The young provincial was absorbed and abstracted, and only caught the last words of the garrulous merchant. Seeing that it was absolutely necessary to make some sort of response, Eusebe repeated, mechanically, some of the phrases which constituted the staple of his father’s philosophical observations:-- “In the first place, before responding, it is necessary to clear up certain points which have been left involved in obscurity. Who can tell where to find the false and where the true, since the greatest minds have differed concerning them? Who can tell where progress commences, and where it ends? Who will venture to affirm that in an extreme degree of civilization the people are more or less happy, when men of profound and enlightened judgment have confessed that the last word of civilization is the first of barbarism?” Bonnaud was stupefied. He had nothing to say. Like all persons who have no opinions of their own about men and things, and who, from ignorance or lack of judgment, accept those of others, the merchant was not tenacious of the views he had expressed. At length he recovered his balance so far as to murmur,-- “Certainly. Concerning every thing there is a pro and a con.” Paul, thinking that Eusebe had penetrated his intention to quiz the merchant, continued to gratify his humor:-- “Assuredly: M. Martin is right. He has told the precise truth, and I can prove it. He belongs to a race who have been at the head of civilization, and who have fallen back into their primitive condition. When were they happiest? I cannot tell; nor can you. You must admit that it would be impertinent to the last degree to assert that the residents of Versailles are to-day happier than were those of Salente under the wise and far-sighted administration of Idomeneus.” “I do not say so,” rejoined Bonnaud. “But their condition must depend, in a great measure, upon the character of their prefects.” They had now reached the end of their journey, and the young men alighted, laughing immoderately at the simplicity of their companion, who, for his part, looked to the right and the left, as if trying to discover what excited their mirth. CHAPTER XX. The house that Lansade had purchased for his retirement was one of those ordinary country mansions which are so dear to the _petits bourgeois_ of Paris. Situated on the summit of a small eminence, it could be seen at a considerable distance. This modest elevation had been preferred by the merchant to sites of a more commanding description, and which could have been obtained at a more advantageous price. The fortunate purchaser was persuaded that all persons who journeyed from Paris to Versailles, and from Versailles to Paris, would eagerly inquire,-- “To whom does that pretty piece of property belong? Who resides in that charming cottage on the hill yonder?” And then some well-informed traveller would respond,-- “It is the chateau of M. Lansade, a very rich merchant, who has retired from business.”