This direction was not remarkable for its precision, but it was more than sufficient for a pure-blooded Parisian like Victor Chupin. “Many thanks for your kindness,” he said to the porter. “A blind man, perhaps, might not be able to go straight to M. de Coralth’s house from your directions, but I have eyes and a tongue as well. And, believe me, if there’s any reward, you shall see that I know how to repay a good turn.” “And if you don’t find the viscount,” added the waiters, “bring the money here, and it will be returned to him.” “Naturally!” replied Chupin. And he strode hurriedly away. “Return!” he muttered; “not I! I thought for a moment they had their hands on my precious bank-note.” But he had already recovered from his fright, and as he turned his steps homeward he congratulated himself on the success of his stratagem. “For my viscount is caught,” he said to himself. “The Rue d’Anjou Saint Honore hasn’t a hundred numbers in it, and even if I’m compelled to go from door to door, my task will soon be accomplished.” On reaching home he found his mother engaged in knitting, as usual. This was the only avocation that her almost complete blindness allowed her to pursue; and she followed it constantly. “Ah! here you are, Toto,” she exclaimed, joyously. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Don’t you scent a savory smell? As you must be greatly tired after being up all night, I’m making you a stew.” As customary when he returned, Chupin embraced the good woman with the respectful tenderness which had so surprised M. Fortunat. “You are always kind,” said he, “but, unfortunately, I can’t remain to dine with you.” “But you promised me.” “That’s true, mamma; but business, you see--business.” The worthy woman shook her head. “Always business!” she exclaimed. “Yes--when a fellow hasn’t ten thousand francs a year.” “You have become a worker, Toto, and that makes me very happy; but you are too eager for money, and that frightens me.” “That’s to say, you fear I shall do something dishonest. Ah! mother! do you think I can forget you and Monsieur Andre?” His mother said no more, and he entered the tiny nook which he so pompously styled his chamber, and quickly changed the clothes he was wearing (his Sunday toggery) for an old pair of checked trousers, a black blouse, and a glazed cap. And when he had finished, and given a peculiar turn to his hair, no one would have recognized him. In place of M. Fortunat’s respectable clerk, there appeared one of those vagabonds who hang about cafes and theatres from six in the evening till midnight, and spend the rest of their time playing cards in the low drinking dens near the barrieres. It was the old Chupin come to life once more--Toto Chupin as he had appeared before his conversion. And as he took a last look in the little glass hanging over the table, he was himself astonished at the transformation. “Ah!” he muttered, “I was a sorry looking devil in those days.”