lside and the road to Saintes.

"If the walk is any pleasure to you, I am delighted; for I owe you an
evening, I think, when you have given up yours for me. When you refused
to go to Mme. de Bargeton's, you were quite as generous as Lucien when
he made the demand at the risk of vexing her."

"No, not generous, only wise," said David. "And now that we are quite
alone under the sky, with no listeners except the bushes and the reeds
by the edge of the Charente, let me tell you about my anxiety as to
Lucien's present step, dear Eve. After all that I have just said, I hope
that you will look on my fears as a refinement of friendship. You and
your mother have done all that you could to put him above his social
position; but when you stimulated his ambition, did you not unthinkingly
condemn him to a hard struggle? How can he maintain himself in the
society to which his tastes incline him? I know Lucien; he likes to
reap, he does not like toil; it is his nature. Social claims will take
up the whole of his time, and for a man who has nothing but his brains,
time is capital. He likes to shine; society will stimulate his desires
until no money will satisfy them; instead of earning money, he will
spend it. You have accustomed him to believe in his great powers, in
fact, but the world at large declines to believe in any man's superior
intellect until he has achieved some signal success. Now success in
literature is only won in solitude and by dogged work. What will Mme. de
Bargeton give your brother in return for so many days spent at her
feet? Lucien has too much spirit to accept help from her; and he cannot
afford, as we know, to cultivate her society, twice ruinous as it is
for him. Sooner or later that woman will throw over this dear brother of
ours, but not before she has spoiled him for hard work, and given him a
taste for luxury and a contempt for our humdrum life. She will develop
his love of enjoyment, his inclination for idleness, that debauches a
poetic soul. Yes, it makes me tremble to think that this great lady
may make a plaything of Lucien. If she cares for him sincerely, he will
forget everything else for her; or if she does not love him, she will
make him unhappy, for he is wild about her."

"You have sent a chill of dread through my heart," said Eve, stopping as
they reached the weir. "But so long as mother is strong enough for her
tiring life, so long as I live, we shall earn enough, perhaps, between
us to keep