and the
name of Zoe Mirilton, and, seized with some scruples, he asked himself
whether he ought to introduce his friend to the young Gerard girls. At
first this idea made him uneasy, then he thought that it was ridiculous.
Was not Maurice a good-hearted young man and well brought up? Had he not
seen him conduct himself with tact and reserve before Colonel Lantz's
daughters?

Some days later Maurice reminded him of the promised visit to the
Gerards, and Amedee presented him to his old friends.

Louise was not at home; she had been going about teaching for some time
to increase the family's resources, for the engraver was more red-faced
than ever, and obliged to change the number of his spectacles every
year, and could not do as much work as formerly.

But the agreeable young man made a conquest of the rest of the family
by his exquisite good-nature and cordial, easy manner. Respectful and
simple with Madame Gerard, whom he intimidated a little, he paid very
little attention to Maria and did not appear to notice that he was
exciting her curiosity to the highest pitch. He modestly asked Father
Gerard's advice upon his project of painting, amusing himself with
the knickknacks about the apartments, picking out by instinct the
best engravings and canvases of value. The good man was enchanted with
Maurice and hastened to show him his private museum, forgetting all
about his pipe--he was smoking at present a Garibaldi--and presented
him his last engraving, where one saw--it certainly was a fatality
that pursued the old republican!--the Emperor Napoleon III, at Magenta,
motionless upon his horse in the centre of a square of grenadiers, cut
down by grape and canister.

Maurice's visit was short, and as Amedee had thought a great deal about
little Maria for several days, he asked his friend, as he conducted him
a part of the way:

"What did you think of her?"

Maurice simply replied, "Delicious!" and changed the conversation.

CHAPTER VI. DREAMS OF LOVE

Solemn moment approached for the two friends. They were to take their
examinations for graduation. Upon the days when M. Violette--they now
called him at the office "Father Violette," he had grown so aged and
decrepit--was not too much "consoled" in the cafe in the Rue du Four,
and when he was less silent and gloomy than usual, he would say to his
son, after the soup:

"Do you know, Amedee, I shall not be easy in my mind until you have
received your degree. Say w