ing them out to be blacker than ever, the prodigal
turned away his head to conceal his irritation.

"Your Aunt de Saint-Fain," she went on, "met you in the street in such
disgraceful company that she was really thankful that you forbore to
greet her."

"Aunt de Saint-Fain!" Maurice broke out. "I like to hear her talking
about scandals! Everyone knows the sort of life she has led, and now the
old hypocrite wants to----"

He stopped. He had caught sight of his father, whose face was even more
eloquent of sorrow than of anger. Maurice began to feel as though he had
committed murder, and could not imagine how he had allowed such words to
escape him. He was on the point of bursting into tears, falling on his
knees, and imploring his father to forgive him, when his mother, looking
up at the ceiling, said with a sigh:

"What offence can I have committed against God, to have brought such a
wicked son into the world?"

This speech struck Maurice as a piece of ridiculous affectation, and it
pulled him up with a jerk. The bitterness of contrition suddenly gave
place to the delicious arrogance of wrong-doing. He plunged wildly into
a torrent of insolence and revolt, and breathlessly delivered himself of
utterances quite unfit for a mother's ear.

"If you will have it, mamma, rather than forbid me to continue my
friendship with a talented lyrical artist, you would be better employed
in preventing my elder sister, Madame de Margy, from appearing, night
after night, in society and at the theatres with a contemptible and
disgusting individual that everybody knows is her lover. You should also
keep an eye on my little sister Jeanne, who writes objectionable letters
to herself in a disguised hand, and then, pretending she has found them
in her prayer-book, shows them to you with assumed innocence, to worry
and alarm you. It would be just as well, too, if you prevented my little
brother Leon, a child of seven, from being quite so much with
Mademoiselle Caporal, and you might tell your maid...."

"Get out, sir, I will not have you in the house!" cried Monsieur Rene
d'Esparvieu, white with anger, pointing a trembling finger at the door.

CHAPTER XXIX

WHEREIN WE SEE HOW THE ANGEL, HAVING BECOME A MAN, BEHAVES
LIKE A MAN, COVETING ANOTHER'S WIFE AND BETRAYING HIS
FRIEND. IN THIS CHAPTER THE CORRECTNESS OF YOUNG
D'ESPARVIEU'S CONDUCT WILL BE MADE MANIFEST

The angel was pleased with his lodging. He work