The young girl was embroidering, and her governess or housekeeper knitting, while the young man, with the last issue of the _Journal of the Empire_ held close to his eyes, was reading the latest news aloud, and informing his readers of the Duc de Reggio's departure to take command of the army. The housekeeper, hearing a brisk bubbling sound accompanied with several little jets of steam from the kettle, said to her nephew: "The water is boiling, Onésime. Pour some into the urn, but pray be careful." Onésime laid his paper on the table, rose, and started toward the hearth with dire misgivings which were more than justified. He knew, alas! that his path was full of snares and pitfalls, for there was an armchair standing on his left to be avoided, then a small round table to the right of him, and this Scylla and Charybdis avoided, he had to step over a small footstool near the hearth before he could seize the boiling kettle. Consequently, one can easily understand the extreme prudence with which Onésime started on his mission. One outstretched hand warning him of the close proximity of the armchair on his left, he avoided that obstacle, but he was almost on the point of running against the table before his other hand discovered danger of a second shipwreck, and he was inwardly rejoicing at having reached the fireplace without mishap, when he stumbled over the footstool. In his efforts to regain his equilibrium he took a step or two backwards, and, coming in violent contact with the table, overturned it with a loud crash. For several minutes the young girl had been absorbed in a profound reverie. Rudely awakened from it by the noise made by the falling table, ignorant of the cause of the commotion, and unable to overcome her fear, she uttered a cry of terror and sank back in her chair, trembling like a leaf. "Don't be frightened, my dear," cried the housekeeper. "It is another of Onésime's escapades, that is all. Calm yourself, my child." The young girl, on discovering the cause of the commotion, deeply regretted having increased her unfortunate friend's embarrassment, so, striving to overcome the nervous trembling that had seized her, she said: "Forgive me, my dear friend. How silly I am, but you know I never seem to be able to conquer this absurd nervousness." "Poor child, it is no fault of yours! Are you not the one who suffers most from it? Surely there is no necessity for apologising to us, especially as but for my nephew's awkwardness--" "No, no, I am the culprit," interrupted the young girl. "To be so childish at my age is disgraceful." The unfortunate young man, distressed beyond measure at his mishap, stammered a few incoherent words of apology, then set the table on its feet again, shoved the footstool aside, and, seizing the tea-kettle, started to pour the water into the urn, when his aunt exclaimed: "Don't attempt that, for Heaven's sake! You are so awkward, you will be sure to make a mess of it."