tudy of the law, and told your mother
that until you had made your name as a musical composer you would give
lessons on the piano; but you could obtain no pupils, and--well, just
look in the glass yourself, and say if you think that your age and
appearance would justify parents in intrusting their daughters to your
tuition?"

Mascarin stopped for a moment and consulted his notes afresh.

"Your departure from Poitiers," he went on, "was your last act of folly.
The very day after your poor mother's death you collected together all
her scanty savings, and took the train to Paris."

"Then, sir, I had hoped----"

"What, to arrive at fortune by the road of talent? Foolish boy! Every
year a thousand poor wretches have been thus intoxicated by their
provincial celebrity, and have started for Paris, buoyed up by similar
hopes. Do you know the end of them? At the end of ten years--I give them
no longer--nine out of ten die of starvation and disappointment, and the
other joins the criminal army."

Paul had often repeated this to himself, and could, therefore, make no
reply.

"But," went on Mascarin, "you did not leave Poitiers alone; you carried
off with you a young girl named Rose Pigoreau."

"Pray, let me explain."

"It would be useless. The fact speaks for itself. In six months your
little store had disappeared; then came poverty and starvation, and at
last, in the Hotel de Perou, your thoughts turned to suicide, and you
were only saved by my old friend Tantaine."

Paul felt his temper rising, for these plain truths were hard to bear;
but fear lest he should lose his protector kept him silent.

"I admit everything, sir," said he calmly. "I was a fool, and almost
mad, but experience has taught me a bitter lesson. I am here to-day,
and this fact should tell you that I have given up all my vain
hallucinations."

"Will you give up Rose Pigoreau?"

As this abrupt question was put to him, Paul turned pale with anger.

"I love Rose," answered he coldly; "she believes in me, and has shared
my troubles with courage, and one day she shall be my wife."

Raising his velvet cap from his head, Mascarin bowed with an ironical
air, saying, "Is that so? Then I beg a thousand pardons. It is urgent
that you should have immediate employment. Pray, what can you do? Not
much of anything, I fancy;--like most college bred boys, you can do a
little of everything, and nothing well. Had I a son, and an enormous
income, I would have him