ornaments would have come from it in place of a
brain.

The poor man was thinking sadly of all these things amid the ringing of
hammers and the heavy footsteps of the furniture-movers, when he heard
an interloping, authoritative step behind him, and Monsieur Chebe
appeared, little Monsieur Chebe, flushed and breathless, with flames
darting from his eyes. He assumed, as always, a very high tone with his
son-in-law.

"What does this mean? What is this I hear? Ah! so you're moving, are
you?"

"I am not moving, Monsieur Chebe--I am selling out."

The little man gave a leap like a scalded fish.

"You are selling out? What are you selling, pray?"

"I am selling everything," said Risler in a hollow voice, without even
looking at him.

"Come, come, son-in-law, be reasonable. God knows I don't say that
Sidonie's conduct--But, for my part, I know nothing about it. I never
wanted to know anything. Only I must remind you of your dignity. People
wash their dirty linen in private, deuce take it! They don't make
spectacles of themselves as you've been doing ever since morning. Just
see everybody at the workshop windows; and on the porch, too! Why,
you're the talk of the quarter, my dear fellow."

"So much the better. The dishonor was public, the reparation must be
public, too."

This apparent coolness, this indifference to all his observations,
exasperated Monsieur Chebe. He suddenly changed his tactics, and
adopted, in addressing his son-in-law, the serious, peremptory tone
which one uses with children or lunatics.

"Well, I say that you haven't any right to take anything away from
here. I remonstrate formally, with all my strength as a man, with all
my authority as a father. Do you suppose I am going to let you drive
my child into the street. No, indeed! Oh! no, indeed! Enough of such
nonsense as that! Nothing more shall go out of these rooms."

And Monsieur Chebe, having closed the door, planted himself in front of
it with a heroic gesture. Deuce take it! his own interest was at stake
in the matter. The fact was that when his child was once in the gutter
he ran great risk of not having a feather bed to sleep on himself. He
was superb in that attitude of an indignant father, but he did not keep
it long. Two hands, two vises, seized his wrists, and he found himself
in the middle of the room, leaving the doorway clear for the workmen.

"Chebe, my boy, just listen," said Risler, leaning over him. "I am
at the end of my