urn. His parents hardly saw him once a month, and then he only
stayed a few moments with them.

"I have been punished where I had hoped to be rewarded," Michael said to
me just now. "I had wished for a saving and industrious son, and God has
given me an ambitious and avaricious one! I had always said to myself
that when once he was grown up we should have him always with us, to
recall our youth and to enliven our hearts. His mother was always
thinking of getting him married, and having children again to care for.
You know women always will busy themselves about others. As for me, I
thought of him working near my bench, and singing his new songs; for he
has learnt music, and is one of the best singers at the Orpheon.

"A dream, sir, truly! Directly the bird was fledged, he took to flight,
and remembers neither father nor mother. Yesterday, for instance, was the
day we expected him; he should have come to supper with us. No Robert
to-day, either! He has had some plan to finish, or some bargain to
arrange, and his old parents are put down last in the accounts, after the
customers and the joiner's work. Ah! if I could have guessed how it would
have turned out! Fool! to have sacrificed my likings and my money, for
nearly twenty years, to the education of a thankless son! Was it for this
I took the trouble to cure myself of drinking, to break with my friends,
to become an example to the neighborhood? The jovial good fellow has made
a goose of himself. Oh! if I had to begin again! No, no! you see women
and children are our bane. They soften our hearts; they lead us a life of
hope and affection; we pass a quarter of our lives in fostering the
growth of a grain of corn which is to be everything to us in our old age,
and when the harvest-time comes--good-night, the ear is empty!"

While he was speaking, Michael's voice became hoarse, his eyes fierce,
and his lips quivered. I wished to answer him, but I could only think of
commonplace consolations, and I remained silent. The joiner pretended he
needed a tool, and left me.

Poor father! Ah! I know those moments of temptation when virtue has
failed to reward us, and we regret having obeyed her! Who has not felt
this weakness in hours of trial, and who has not uttered, at least once,
the mournful exclamation of Brutus?

But if virtue is only a word, what is there then in life that is true and
real? No, I will not believe that goodness is in vain! It does not always
give the happi