I. THE WAGES OF PHILOSOPHY.

On the morning of the next day, the Doctor, a mere spectre of himself,
was brought back in the custody of Casimir. They found Anastasie and the
boy sitting together by the fire; and Desprez, who had exchanged his
toilette for a ready-made rig-out of poor materials, waved his hand as he
entered, and sank speechless on the nearest chair. Madame turned direct
to Casimir.

'What is wrong?' she cried.

'Well,' replied Casimir, 'what have I told you all along? It has come.
It is a clean shave, this time; so you may as well bear up and make the
best of it. House down, too, eh? Bad luck, upon my soul.'

'Are we--are we--ruined?' she gasped.

The Doctor stretched out his arms to her. 'Ruined,' he replied, 'you are
ruined by your sinister husband.'

Casimir observed the consequent embrace through his eyeglass; then he
turned to Jean-Marie. 'You hear?' he said. 'They are ruined; no more
pickings, no more house, no more fat cutlets. It strikes me, my friend,
that you had best be packing; the present speculation is about worked
out.' And he nodded to him meaningly.

'Never!' cried Desprez, springing up. 'Jean-Marie, if you prefer to
leave me, now that I am poor, you can go; you shall receive your hundred
francs, if so much remains to me. But if you will consent to stay'--the
Doctor wept a little--'Casimir offers me a place--as clerk,' he resumed.
'The emoluments are slender, but they will be enough for three. It is
too much already to have lost my fortune; must I lose my son?'

Jean-Marie sobbed bitterly, but without a word.

'I don't like boys who cry,' observed Casimir. 'This one is always
crying. Here! you clear out of this for a little; I have business with
your master and mistress, and these domestic feelings may be settled
after I am gone. March!' and he held the door open.

Jean-Marie slunk out, like a detected thief.

By twelve they were all at table but Jean-Marie.

'Hey?' said Casimir. 'Gone, you see. Took the hint at once.'

'I do not, I confess,' said Desprez, 'I do not seek to excuse his
absence. It speaks a want of heart that disappoints me sorely.'

'Want of manners,' corrected Casimir. 'Heart, he never had. Why,
Desprez, for a clever fellow, you are the most gullible mortal in
creation. Your ignorance of human nature and human business is beyond
belief. You are swindled by heathen Turks, swindled by vagabond
children, swindled right and left, upsta