ness, and his cousin was
perfecting herself in shop management. In a year or eighteen months they
would be married, and then they would set up on their own account in
some populous corner of Paris, at Plaisance most likely. They were in no
great hurry, he added, for the bacon trade was very bad that year.
Then he proceeded to tell Florent that he and his cousin had been
photographed together at the fair of St. Ouen, and he entered the attic
to have another look at the photograph, which Augustine had left on
the mantelpiece, in her desire that Madame Quenu's cousin should have a
pretty room. Auguste lingered there for a moment, looking quite livid
in the dim yellow light of his candle, and casting his eyes around the
little chamber which was still full of memorials of the young girl.
Next, stepping up to the bed, he asked Florent if it was comfortable.
His cousin slept below now, said he, and would be better there in the
winter, for the attics were very cold. Then at last he went off, leaving
Florent alone with the bed, and standing in front of the photograph.
As shown on the latter Auguste looked like a sort of pale Quenu, and
Augustine like an immature Lisa.

Florent, although on friendly terms with the assistants, petted by his
brother, and cordially treated by Lisa, presently began to feel very
bored. He had tried, but without success, to obtain some pupils;
moreover, he purposely avoided the students' quarter for fear of being
recognised. Lisa gently suggested to him that he had better try to
obtain a situation in some commercial house, where he could take charge
of the correspondence and keep the books. She returned to this subject
again and again, and at last offered to find a berth for him herself.
She was gradually becoming impatient at finding him so often in her way,
idle, and not knowing what to do with himself. At first this impatience
was merely due to the dislike she felt of people who do nothing but
cross their arms and eat, and she had no thought of reproaching him for
consuming her substance.

"For my own part," she would say to him, "I could never spend the whole
day in dreamy lounging. You can't have any appetite for your meals. You
ought to tire yourself."

Gavard, also, was seeking a situation for Florent, but in a very
extraordinary and most mysterious fashion. He would have liked to find
some employment of a dramatic character, or in which there should be a
touch of bitter irony, as was suitabl