hesitatingly, that it occasionally almost seemed as if he stammered; he
was Monsieur Caravan, chief clerk in the Admiralty. The other, who had
formerly been surgeon on board a merchant ship, had set up in practice
in Courbevoie, where he applied the vague remnants of medical knowledge
which he had retained after an adventurous life, to the wretched
population of that district. His name was Chenet, and strange rumors
were current as to his morality.

Monsieur Caravan had always led the normal life of a man in a Government
office. For the last thirty years he had invariably gone the same way to
his office every morning, and had met the same men going to business at
the same time and nearly on the same spot, and he returned home every
evening the same way, and again met the same faces which he had seen
growing old. Every morning, after buying his halfpenny paper at the
corner of the _Faubourg Saint Honore_, he bought his two rolls, and then
he went into his office, like a culprit who is giving himself up to
justice, and he got to his desk as quickly as possible, always feeling
uneasy, as he was expecting a rebuke for some neglect of duty of which he
might have been guilty.

Nothing had ever occurred to change the monotonous order of his
existence, for no event affected him except the work of his office,
perquisites, gratuities, and promotion. He never spoke of anything but of
his duties, either at the Admiralty or at home, for he had married the
portionless daughter of one of his colleagues. His mind, which was in a
state of atrophy from his depressing daily work, had no other thoughts,
hopes or dreams than such as related to the office, and there was a
constant source of bitterness that spoilt every pleasure that he might
have had, and that was the employment of so many commissioners of the
navy, _tinmen_, as they were called, because of their silver-lace, as
first-class clerks; and every evening at dinner he discussed the matter
hotly with his wife, who shared his angry feelings, and proved to their
own satisfaction that it was in every way unjust to give places in Paris,
to men who ought to be employed in the navy.

He was old now, and had scarcely noticed how his life was passing, for
school had merely been exchanged, without any transition, for the office,
and the ushers, at whom he had formerly trembled, were replaced by his
chiefs, whom he was terribly afraid of. When he had to go into the rooms
of these official