ded idiot!" he cried to the young man just
ready to lay the archangel in the shavings. "You almost broke the
dragon's tail."

Then, noticing Amedee and M. Violette who had just entered:

"Ah! It is you, Violate! Good-day! Good-day, Amedee! You come at an
unlucky time. It is shipping-day with us. I am in a great hurry--Eh!
Monsieur Combier, by your leave, Monsieur Combier! Do not forget the
three dozen of the Apparition de la Salette in stucco for Grenoble, with
twenty-five per cent. reduction upon the bill. Are you working hard,
Amedee? What do you say? He was first and assisted at the feast of St.
Charlemagne! So much the better!--Jules, did you send the six chandeliers
and the plated pyx and the Stations of the Cross, Number Two, to the
Dames du Sacre-Coeur d'Alencons? What, not yet? But the order came three
days ago! You must hurry, I tell you!--You can see, Violette, I am
overflowing with work--but come in here a moment."

And once more ordering his bookkeeper, a captive in his glass case, to
send the officers the notes that the cure of Sourdeval had allowed to go
to protest, Uncle Isidore ushered M. Violette and his son into his
office.

It was an ancient room, and M. Gaufre, who aimed at the austere, had made
it gloomier still by a safe, and black haircloth furniture, which looked
as if taken from a vestryroom. The pretty, high, and oval apartment, with
its large window, opening upon a garden, its ceiling painted in light
rosy clouds, its woodwork ornamented with wreaths and quivers, still
preserved some of the charm and elegance of former days. Amedee would
have been amused there, had not Uncle Isidore, who had seated himself
before his desk, launched at once an unkind question at M. Violette.

"By the way, have you obtained the promotion that you counted so much
upon last year?"

"Unfortunately, no, Monsieur Gaufre. You know what the Administration
is."

"Yes, it is slow; but you are not overwhelmed with work, however. While
in a business like this--what cares, what annoyances! I sometimes envy
you. You can take an hour to cut your pens. Well, what is wanted of me
now?"

The head of a clerk with a pencil behind his ear, appeared through the
half-open door.

"Monsieur le Superieur of Foreign Missions wishes to speak with
Monsieur."

"You can see! Not one minute to myself. Another time, my dear Violette.
Adieu, my little man--it is astonishing how much he grows to look like
Lucie! You must come and d