ty brows bent in the lamplight. M. Joyeuse never said a word of his
daughters; jealous of their charms as a dragon watching over beautiful
princesses in a tower, and excited by the fantastic imaginings of his
excessive affection for them, he would answer with marked brevity the
inquiries of his pupil regarding the health of "the young ladies," so
that at last the young man ceased to mention them.

He was surprised, however, at not once seeing that Bonne Maman whose
name was constantly recurring in the conversation of M. Joyeuse,
entering into the least details of his existence, hovering over the
household like the emblem of its perfect ordering and of its peace.

So great a reserve on the part of a venerable lady who must assuredly
have passed the age at which the interest of young men is to be feared,
seemed to him exaggerated. The lessons, however, were good ones,
given with great clearness, the teacher having an excellent system
of demonstration, and only one fault, that of becoming absorbed in
silences, broken by sudden starts and exclamations let off like rockets.
Apart from this, he was the best of masters, intelligent, patient, and
conscientious, and Paul learned to know his way through the complex
labyrinth of commercial books and resigned himself to ask nothing
beyond.

One evening, towards nine o'clock, as the young man had risen to go, M.
Joyeuse asked him if he would do him the honour of taking a cup of tea
with his family, a custom dating from the time when Mme. Joyeuse, _nee_
de Saint-Amand, was alive, she having been used to receive her friends
on Thursdays. Since her death and the change in the financial position,
the friends had become dispersed; but his little weekly function had
been kept up.

Paul having accepted, the good old fellow opened the door and called:

"Bonne Maman!"

An alert footstep in the passage, and immediately the face of a girl of
twenty, in a halo of abundant brown hair, made its appearance.

De Gery, stupefied, looked at M. Joyeuse.

"Bonne Maman?"

"Yes, it is a name that we gave her when she was a little girl. With her
frilled cap, her authority as the eldest child, she had a quaint little
air. We thought her like her grandmother. The name has clung to her."

From the honest fellow's tone as he spoke thus, one felt that to him
this grandparent's title applied to such an embodiment of attractive
youth seemed the most natural thing in the world. Every one else thought