"And so you made a good voyage, my son," observed the old man, his delight over the young man's return somewhat dampened by the uneasiness he felt concerning his cherished projects for the future and the remembrance of the events of the day. "Excellent, father!" returned Louis. "I am glad to hear it, my boy, and--but will you have some dinner? We can talk while eating." "Will I have some dinner? Well, I should say so! I did not share the meals of the other travelers, and for the best of reasons," laughed the young man gaily, slapping his empty wallet. "Upon my word, you lost but little, my son," rejoined the father, cutting the slice of ham into two unequal pieces and giving the largest to the young man, "those hotel dinners are expensive and not worth much!" Having offered Louis a formidable piece of bread, the old man helped himself to a crust, and both father and son bravely attacked the meager meal, with robust appetites, sprinkling it plentifully with glorious draughts of clear water. "Tell me all about your journey now, my boy," resumed the old man, when he had satisfied the first pangs of hunger. "Really, father, there is not much to tell," remarked Louis. "The notary had given me copies of several deeds, which M. Ramon was to read. Well, he read and studied them most leisurely, taking five whole days! after which the said papers were given back to me, profusely annotated by that wary parsonage, and--thank heaven--here I am at last!" "Thank heaven?--can it be that you were lonely at Dreux?" queried the old man, looking up anxiously. "I was bored to death, my dear father." "What kind of a man must this M. Ramon be, that you were so displeased?" "The very worst kind in the world--a miser." "Hum! hum!" coughed the old man, as if swallowing a disagreeable dose. "So he is a miser? He must be rich then?" "I don't know, but one may be as avaricious with a small fortune as with a great one; and if we are to measure M. Ramon's wealth by his parsimony, he must be a triple millionaire--such a wretched old miser!" continued Louis, contemptuously, biting into his bread with a sort of frenzy. "Had you been brought up in luxury and abundance, I might understand your recriminations against this old miser--as you call him," rejoined old Richard, testily, "but we have always lived in such poverty that, however miserly M. Ramon may be, you must have found but little difference between his manner of existence and our own." "But you don't understand me, father. M. Ramon keeps two servants, and we have none; he occupies a whole house and we live in one attic room; he has three or four dishes for his dinner, while we eat anything we may chance to have. And yet, we live a hundred times better than this greedy personage!" "I really don't understand you, my child," returned the father, more and more annoyed at his son's opinion of his late host. "There can certainly be no comparison between that gentleman's luxury and our poverty."