earer view, very like him. When clear of
the small crowd, De Courval moved away slowly, vexed with himself and
disturbed by one of those abrupt self-revelations which prove to a man
how near he may be to emotional insurrection.

"If it had been he," he murmured, "I should have strangled him, ah,
there at once." He had been imprudent, lacking in intelligence. He felt,
too, how slightly impressed he had been by his mother's desire that he
should dismiss from his life the dark hour of Avignon. More than a
little dissatisfied, he put it all resolutely aside and began to
reconsider the mercantile career before him. He was about to give up the
social creed and ways in which he had been educated. He had never earned
a sou, and was now to become a part of the life of trade, a thing which
at one time would have seemed to him impossible. Would his mother like
it? No; but for that there was no help, and some of it he would keep to
himself. Thirty dollars would pay his own board, and he must draw on
his small reserve until he made more. But there were clothes to get and
he knew not what besides; nor did he altogether like it himself. He had
served in the army two years, and had then been called home, where he
was sorely needed. It would have been strange if, with his training and
traditions, he had felt no repugnance at this prospect of a trader's
life. But it was this or nothing, and having made his choice, he meant
to abide by it. And thus, having settled the matter, he went on his way,
taking in with observant eyes the wonders of this new country.

He made for his mother a neat little tale of how he was to oblige Mr.
Wynne by translating or writing French letters. Yes, the hours were
long, but he was sure he should like it, and Mrs. Swanwick would, she
had said, give him breakfast in time for him to be at his work by half
after eight o'clock; and where was the letter which should be sent, and
Mrs. Wynne would call. The vicomtesse wished for no company, and least
of all for even the most respectable bourgeois society; but she supposed
there was no help for it, and the boarding-house was very well, indeed,
restful, and the people quiet. Would she be expected to say thou to
them? Her son thought not, and after a rather silent noon dinner went
out for a pull on the river with Schmidt, and bobbed for crabs to his
satisfaction, while Schmidt at intervals let fall his queer phrases as
the crabs let go the bait and slid off sideways.