e there by these vagabonds from the city;" and, so saying,
she took up the dead lap-dog and carried it tenderly in upon her
arm, viewing it with a wistful expression of grief and pity, whilst
Amanda stooped to caress the wounded mastiff, then followed with
an air of pensive majesty, not without looking in the direction in
which the gallant stranger, had disappeared.

CHAPTER V.

"An ill-favored thing, sir, but mine own."

_As You Like It._

It was near mid-day, and the advocate was engaged in his office,
when the notary with whom Narcisse had been placed, suddenly
entering, angrily demanded:

"Where is Narcisse, where is your son, sir? Here I am wanting his
assistance, now, and he is missing, he is gone, no one knows where,
nor where he has stowed those papers. Where is he, sir; where is
the boy, I say; where is your son?"

The advocate looked up at this sudden disturbance, and, drawing a
deep sigh, exclaimed with bitter emphasis:

"I would he were nowhere; that he were erased from the book of
being; I would he were in heaven,--or else--in your office, Monsieur
Veuillot. Is that a bad wish for either?"

"But he is not in my office," said Veuillot.

"Nor in heaven neither, I fear," rejoined the advocate.

"Where is he, then?" demanded the excited notary: "where is your
son?"

"Such a son!" murmured the advocate, shrugging his shoulders. "Do
you wish to be pleasant with me, Monsieur Veuillot? my evil genius
call him. Son! I own I feed him, as I do other vermin that infest
my house."

"But where is he?" reiterated the notary with growing impatience,
and seeming resolved to take no denial.

"Where is he?" echoed the advocate: "ask his mother; yes, sir, ask
his dam. Oh, Monsieur Veuillot, is there not deep damnation in thus
having an idiot for one's child? Here is your purgatory:--purgatory?
no: for purgatory is a kind of half-way house to heaven, but this
son of mine is to me a slippery stepping-stone to perdition. Sir,
a child should be a cherub to lift its parents' spirit to the skies;
but mine, oh!"--and a spasm of agony passed over the old man's
visage, succeeded by a forced expression of calmness, as he continued:

"Veuillot, you have heard of Solomon. He speaks of the foolish son
of a wise father. He was himself the father of a fool, that rent
the kingdom,--Rehoboam I mean,--and he kept concubines, too; so
I suppose he waxed fruitful in fools. I have but one fool, therefore
I am thankfu