of Thoul and Bijou.

Victorin Hulot, under the overwhelming disasters of his family, had
received the finishing touch which makes or mars the man. He was
perfection. In the great storms of life we act like the captain of a
ship who, under the stress of a hurricane, lightens the ship of its
heaviest cargo. The young lawyer lost his self-conscious pride, his
too evident assertiveness, his arrogance as an orator and his political
pretensions. He was as a man what his wife was as a woman. He made
up his mind to make the best of his Celestine--who certainly did not
realize his dreams--and was wise enough to estimate life at its true
value by contenting himself in all things with the second best. He
vowed to fulfil his duties, so much had he been shocked by his father's
example.

These feelings were confirmed as he stood by his mother's bed on the day
when she was out of danger. Nor did this happiness come single. Claude
Vignon, who called every day from the Prince de Wissembourg to inquire
as to Madame Hulot's progress, desired the re-elected deputy to go with
him to see the Minister.

"His Excellency," said he, "wants to talk over your family affairs with
you."

The Prince had long known Victorin Hulot, and received him with a
friendliness that promised well.

"My dear fellow," said the old soldier, "I promised your uncle, in this
room, that I would take care of your mother. That saintly woman, I
am told, is getting well again; now is the time to pour oil into your
wounds. I have for you here two hundred thousand francs; I will give
them to you----"

The lawyer's gesture was worthy of his uncle the Marshal.

"Be quite easy," said the Prince, smiling; "it is money in trust. My
days are numbered; I shall not always be here; so take this sum, and
fill my place towards your family. You may use this money to pay off
the mortgage on your house. These two hundred thousand francs are the
property of your mother and your sister. If I gave the money to Madame
Hulot, I fear that, in her devotion to her husband, she would be tempted
to waste it. And the intention of those who restore it to you is, that
it should produce bread for Madame Hulot and her daughter, the Countess
Steinbock. You are a steady man, the worthy son of your noble mother,
the true nephew of my friend the Marshal; you are appreciated here, you
see--and elsewhere. So be the guardian angel of your family, and take
this as a legacy from your uncle and me."