fact, however, which has never prevented our dining with her
regularly, and accepting from her all kinds of favours,' hissed Madame
Astier, rearing her little head as to strike. Without bestowing on her a
word or a look, as holding her no judge in a question of honour, the man
went up to his son, and said in earnest tones, the muscles of his big
cheeks twitching with emotion, 'Don't do it, Paul. For the sake of the
name you bear, don't do it, my boy, I beg you.' He grasped his son's
shoulder and shook him, voice and hand quivering together. But the
young fellow moved away, not liking such demonstrations, and objected
generally that 'he didn't see it; it was not his view.' The father
felt the impassable distance between himself and his son, saw the
impenetrable face and the look askance, and instinctively lifted up his
voice in appeal to his rights as head of the family. A smile which he
caught passing between Paul and his mother, a fresh proof of their joint
share in this discreditable business, completed his exasperation. He
shouted and raved, threatening to make a public protest, to write to the
papers, to brand them both, mother and son, 'in his history.' This
last was his most appalling threat. When he had said of some historical
character, 'I have branded him in my history,' he thought no punishment
could be more severe. Madame Astier, almost as familiar with the
threat of branding as with the dragging of his trunk about the passage,
contented herself with saying as she buttoned her gloves: 'You know
every word can be heard in the next room.' In spite of the curtains over
the door, the murmur of conversation was audible from the drawing-room.

Then, repressing and swallowing his wrath, 'Listen to me, Paul,' said
Leonard Astier, shaking his forefinger in the young man's face, 'if ever
this thing you are talking of comes to pass, do not expect to look upon
me again. I will not be present on your wedding day; I will not have you
near me, not even at my death-bed; You are no longer a son of mine;
and you go with my curse upon you.' Moving away instinctively from the
finger which almost touched him, Paul replied with great calmness, 'Oh,
you know, my dear father, that sort of thing is never done now-a-days!
Even on the stage they have given up blessing and cursing.'

'But not punishing, you scoundrel!' growled the old man, lifting his
hand. There was an angry cry of 'Leonard!' from the mother, as with the
prompt parry o