head, had become
silvery white; that wonderful white which, like a tardy recompense to
red-faced persons, becomes their full-blooded faces so well. The good man
felt the weight of years, as did his wife, whose flesh increased in such
a troublesome way that she was forced to pant heavily when she seated
herself after climbing the five flights. Father Gerard grew old, like
everything that surrounded him; like the house opposite, that he had seen
built, and that no longer had the air of a new building; like his curious
old furniture, his mended crockery, and his engravings, yellow with age,
the frames of which had turned red; like the old Erard piano, upon which
Louise, an accomplished performer, now was playing a set of Beethoven's
waltzes and Mendelssohn's "Songs Without Words." This poor old servant
now had only the shrill, trembling tones of a harmonica.

The poor artist grew old, and he was uneasy as to the future; for he had
not known how to manage like his school-friend, the intriguing
Damourette, who had formerly cheated him out of the 'prix de Rome' by a
favor, and who now played the gentleman at the Institute, in his
embroidered coat, and received all the good orders. He, the simpleton,
had saddled himself with a family, and although he had drudged like a
slave he had laid nothing aside. One day he might be stricken with
apoplexy and leave his widow without resources, and his two daughters
without a dowry. He sometimes thought of all this as he filled his pipe,
and it was not pleasant.

If M. Gerard grew gloomy as he grew older, M. Violette became mournful.
He was more than forty years old now. What a decline! Does grief make the
years count double? The widower was a mere wreck. His rebellious lock of
hair had become a dirty gray, and always hung over his right eye, and he
no longer took the trouble to toss it behind his ear. His hands trembled
and he felt his memory leaving him. He grew more taciturn and silent than
ever, and seemed interested in nothing, not even in his son's studies. He
returned home late, ate little at dinner, and then went out again with a
tottering step to pace the dark, gloomy streets. At the office, where he
still did his work mechanically, he was a doomed man; he never would be
elected chief assistant. "What depravity!" said one of his fellow clerks,
a young man with a bright future, protected by the head of the
department, who went to the races and had not his equal in imitating the
"