e at once on something definite. He must consult
Belisaire, whom he heard patiently pacing the corridor, and who
would have waited until nightfall without once knocking to see if the
interview was over.

"Belisaire, my mother has come to live with me; how shall we manage?"

Belisaire started as he thought, "And now the marriage must be
postponed, for Jack will not be one of our little menage!"

But he concealed his disappointment, and exerted himself to suggest
some plan that would relieve his friend of present embarrassment. It
was decided finally that he should relinquish the room to Jack and his
mother and find for himself a closet to sleep in, depositing his stock
of hats and his furniture with Madame Weber.

Jack presented his friend to Belisaire, who remembered very well the
fair lady at Aulnettes, and at once placed himself for the day at the
service of Ida de Barancy; for "Charlotte" was no more heard of. A bed
must be purchased, a couple of chairs, and a dressing-bureau. Jack took
from the drawer where he kept his savings three or four gold pieces
which he gave his mother.

"You know," he said, "that if marketing is disagreeable to you, good
Madame Weber will attend to the dinners."

"Not at all; Belisaire will simply tell me where to go. I intend to do
everything for you; you will see the nice little dinner I shall have
ready for you when you come back to-night."

She had laid aside her shawl, rolled up her sleeves, and was all ready
to begin her work. Jack, delighted to see her so energetic, embraced her
with his whole heart, and left his room in a very joyous frame of mind.
With what courage he toiled all day! The present unfortunate career and
hopeless future of his mother had troubled him for some time, and marred
his joys and his hopes. To what depth of degradation would D'Argenton
compel her to sink! To what end was she destined! Now all was changed.
Ida, tenderly protected by his filial love, would become worthy of her
whom she would some day call "my daughter."

It seemed to Jack, moreover, that this event in some way diminished
the distance between Cecile and himself, and he smiled to himself as
he thought of it. But after his work, as he drew near his home, he was
seized by a panic. Should he find his mother there? He knew with what
promptitude Ida gave wings to her fancies and caprices, and he feared
lest she had felt the temptation to re-tie the knot so hastily broken.
But on the staircase