ause
I have need to reflect before definitely binding myself to the legal
profession."

"To reflect! You want to reflect before taking over a family practice,
which has been destined for you since you were an infant, in view of
which you have been working for five years, and which I have nursed for
you, I, your uncle, as if you had been my son?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Don't be a fool! You can reflect at Bourges quite as well as here. Your
object in staying here is to see her again."

"It is not."

"To wander like a troubled spirit up and down her street. By the way,
which is her street?"

"Rue de l'Universite."

My uncle took out his pocketbook and made a note, "Charnot, Rue de
l'Universite." Then all his features expanded. He gave a snort, which
I understood, for I had often heard it in court at Bourges, where it
meant, "There is no escape now. Old Mouillard has cornered his man."

My uncle replaced his pencil in its case, and his notebook in his
pocket, and merely added:

"Fabien, you're not yourself to-night. We'll talk of the matter another
time. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." He was counting on his
fingers. "These return tickets are very convenient; I need not leave
before to-morrow evening. And, what's more, you'll go with me, my boy."

M. Mouillard talked only on indifferent subjects during our brief walk
from the Rue Soufflot to catch the omnibus at the Odeon. There he shook
me by the hand and sprang nimbly into the first bus. A lady in black,
with veil tightly drawn over a little turned up nose, seeing my uncle
burst in like a bomb, and make for the seat beside her, hurriedly drew
in the folds of her dress, which were spread over the seat. My uncle
noticed her action, and, fearing he had been rude, bent over toward her
with an affable expression. "Do not disturb yourself, Madame. I am
not going all the way to Batignolles; no farther, indeed, than the
Boulevards. I shall inconvenience you for a few moments only, a very few
moments, Madame." I had time to remark that the lady, after giving her
neighbor a glance of Juno-like disdain, turned her back upon him, and
proceeded to study the straps hanging from the roof.

The brake was taken off, the conductor whistled, the three horses, their
hoofs hammering the pavement, strained for an instant amid showers of
sparks, and the long vehicle vanished down the Rue de Vaugirard, bearing
with it Brutus and his fortunes.

CHAPTER X. A FAMILY BREACH

M