d francs a month, but he arranged the number and the price of his
lessons so that each day brought him only ten francs in order that he
might not be a slave to money; living with a woman whom he loved, he had
always insisted, although he had two daughters, on living with her 'en
union libre', and in not acknowledging his children legally, because the
law debased the ties which attached him to them and lessened his duties;
it was conscience that sanctioned these duties; and nature, like
conscience, made him the most faithful of lovers, the best, the most
affectionate, the most tender of fathers. Tall, proud, carrying in his
person and manners the native elegance of his race, he dressed like the
porter at the corner, only replacing the blue velvet by chestnut velvet,
a less frivolous color. Living in Clamart for twenty years, he always
came to Paris on foot, and the only concessions that he made to
conventionality or to his comfort were to wear sabots in winter, and to
carry his vest on his arm in summer.

Thus organized, he must have disciples, and he sought them everywhere--in
the streets, where he buttonholed those he was able to snatch under the
trees of the Luxembourg Gardens, and on Wednesday at the house of his old
comrade Crozat. How many he had had! But, unfortunately, the greater
number turned out badly. Several became ministers; others accepted high
government positions for life; some handled millions of francs; two were
at Noumea; one preached in the pulpit of Notre Dame.

One afternoon in October the little parlor was full; the end of the
summer vacation had brought back the habitues, and for the first time the
number was nearly large enough to open a profitable discussion. Crozat,
near the door, smiled at the arrivals on shaking hands, and Brigard, his
soft felt hat on his head, presided, assisted by his two favorite
disciples of the moment, the advocate Nougarede and the poet Glady,
neither of whom would turn out badly, he was certain.

To tell the truth, for those who knew how to look and to see, the pale
face of Nougarede, his thin lips, restless eyes, and an austerity of
dress and manners which clashed with his twenty-six years, gave him more
the appearance of a man of ambition than of an apostle. And when one knew
that Glady was the owner of a beautiful house in Paris, and of real
estate in the country that brought him a hundred thousand francs a year,
it was difficult to imagine that he would long fol