omnibus."

Mathieu interrupted. "Are Norine and Cecile well?" he asked.

"Yes, Monsieur Froment. Leastways, as far as I know, for, as you can
understand, we don't often see one another. Them and me, that's about
all that's left out of our lot; for Irma won't have anything more to do
with us since she's become one of the toffs. Euphrasie was lucky enough
to die, and that brigand Alfred disappeared, which was real relief, I
assure you; for I feared that I should be seeing him at the galleys. And
I was really pleased when I had some news of Norine and Cecile lately.
Norine is older than I am, you know; she will soon be sixty. But she
was always strong, and her boy, it seems, looks after her. Both she and
Cecile still work; yes, Cecile still lives on, though one used to think
that a fillip would have killed her. It's a pretty home, that one of
theirs; two mothers for a big lad of whom they've made a decent fellow."

Mathieu nodded approvingly, and then remarked: "But you yourself,
Victor, had boys and girls who must now in their turn be fathers and
mothers."

The old workman waved his hand vaguely.

"Yes," said he, "I had eight, one more than my father. They've all
gone off, and they are fathers and mothers in their turn, as you say,
Monsieur Froment. It's all chance, you know; one has to live. There are
some of them who certainly don't eat white bread, ah! that they don't.
And the question is whether, when my arms fail me, I shall find one to
take me in, as Norine and Cecile took my father. But when everything's
said, what can you expect? It's all seed of poverty, it can't grow well,
or yield anything good."

For a moment he remained silent; then resuming his walk towards the
works, with bent, weary back and hanging hands, dented by toil, he said:
"Au revoir, Monsieur Froment."

"Au revoir, Victor," Mathieu answered in a kindly tone.

Having given his orders, Denis now came to join his father, and proposed
to him that they should go on foot to the Avenue d'Antin. On the way he
warned him that they would certainly find Ambroise alone, for his
wife and four children were still at Dieppe, where, indeed, the two
sisters-in-law, Andree and Marthe, had spent the season together.

In a period of ten years, Ambroise's fortune had increased tenfold.
Though he was barely five-and-forty, he reigned over the Paris market.
With his spirit of enterprise, he had greatly enlarged the business
left him by old Du Hordel, transform