ng agreed upon,
Monsieur Rene d'Esparvieu sent for his son to come to him in his study.
To add to the solemnity of the occasion, he had arrayed himself in his
frock-coat. As soon as Maurice saw it he knew there was something
serious in the wind. The head of the family was pale, and his voice
shook a little (for he was a nervous man), as he declared that he would
no longer put up with his son's irregular behaviour, and insisted on an
immediate and absolute reform. No more wild courses, no more running
into debt, no more undesirable companions, but work, steadiness, and
reputable connexions.

Maurice was quite willing to give a respectful reply to his father,
whose complaints, after all, were perfectly justified; but,
unfortunately, Maurice, like his father, was shy, and the frock-coat
which Monsieur d'Esparvieu had donned in order to discharge his
magisterial duty with greater dignity seemed to preclude the possibility
of any open and unconstrained intercourse. Maurice maintained an awkward
silence, which looked very much like insolence, and this silence
compelled Monsieur d'Esparvieu to reiterate his complaints, this time
with additional severity. He opened one of the drawers in his historic
bureau (the bureau on which Alexandre d'Esparvieu had written his "Essay
on the Civil and Religious Institutions of the World"), and produced the
bills which Maurice had signed.

"Do you know, my boy," said he, "that this is nothing more nor less than
forgery? To make up for such grave misconduct as that----"

At this moment Madame d'Esparvieu, as arranged, entered the room attired
in her walking-dress. She was supposed to play the angel of forgiveness,
but neither her appearance nor her disposition was suitable to the part.
She was harsh and unsympathetic. Maurice harboured within him the seeds
of all the ordinary and necessary virtues. He loved his mother and
respected her. His love, however, was more a matter of duty than of
inclination, and his respect arose from habit rather than from feeling.
Madame Rene d'Esparvieu's complexion was blotchy, and having powdered
herself in order to appear to advantage at the domestic tribunal, the
colour of her face suggested raspberries sprinkled over with sugar.
Maurice, being possessed of some taste, could not help realising that
she was ugly and rather repulsively so. He was out of tune with her, and
when she began to go through all the accusations his father had brought
against him, mak