ust wag his tongue more, must monsieur
your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our
hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for
if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for
feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should
be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!'
But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you
of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I
who shall be Minister!"

"Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor
devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I
shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of
their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a
good action!"

"Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel,
much pleased with his epigram.

"Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse
that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous,
suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven
does not see the charity that costs us nothing--"

"Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that
it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I
fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is
the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man
of my time; I respect money."

"And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view."

She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a
gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she
could see him blowing his brains out.

She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic
sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of
Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that
beautiful look.

"I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you
used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--"

Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of
its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect
for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them
in the most profligate corner of his heart.

"I, madame, am still the same; but a retire