ect harmony with their position and
education, why was Bathilde, who seemed their equal in rank, as visibly
distinguished as they were vulgar? Whence came this immense difference
between girls of the same class and age? There must be some secret,
which the chevalier would no doubt know some day or other. A second
pressure of the Abbe Brigaud's foot against his made him understand
that, however true his reflections were, he had chosen a bad moment for
abandoning himself to them. Indeed, Madame Denis took so sovereign an
air of dignity, that D'Harmental saw that he had not an instant to lose
if he wished to efface from her mind the bad impression which his
distraction had caused.

"Madame," said he directly, with the most gracious air he could assume,
"that which I already see of your family fills me with the most lively
desire to know the rest. Is not your son at home, and shall not I have
the pleasure of seeing him?"

"Monsieur," answered Madame Denis, to whom so amiable an address had
restored all her good humor, "my son is with M. Joulu, his master; and,
unless his business brings him this way, it is improbable that he will
make your acquaintance."

"Parbleu! my dear pupil," said the Abbe Brigaud, extending his hand
toward the door; "you are like Aladdin. It is enough for you to express
a wish, and it is fulfilled."

Indeed, at this moment they heard on the staircase the song about
Marlborough, which at this time had all the charm of novelty; the door
was thrown open, and gave entrance to a boy with a laughing face, who
much resembled Mademoiselle Athenais.

"Good, good, good," said the newcomer, crossing his arms, and remarking
the ordinary number of his family increased by the abbe and the
chevalier. "Not bad, Madame Denis; she sends Boniface to his office with
a bit of bread and cheese, saying, 'Beware of indigestion,' and, in his
absence, she gives feasts and suppers. Luckily, poor Boniface has a good
nose. He comes through the Rue Montmartre; he snuffs the wind, and says,
'What is going on there at No. 5, Rue du Temps Perdu?' So he came, and
here he is. Make a place for one."

And, joining the action to the word, Boniface drew a chair to the table,
and sat down between the abbe and the chevalier.

"Monsieur Boniface," said Madame Denis, trying to assume a severe air,
"do you not see that there are strangers here?"

"Strangers!" said Boniface, taking a dish from the table, and setting it
before himself;