On reaching Viroflay, the young man had great difficulty in recognizing the house he went to seek. The garden was no longer there,--the space being filled with boxes and packages. The house, formerly so white and neat, had become gray, and the walls were nearly covered by the gigantic letters of a sign, reading as follows:-- F. B. LANSADE, Formerly of the Boulevard Saint-Denis, at Paris. DEPOT OF PORCELAIN AND CRYSTAL, THE BEST IN FRANCE. MANUFACTURED FOR EXPORT. A man, wearing a blue blouse, his brow dropping perspiration, appeared before the astonished provincial. “Ah! M. Martin,” he exclaimed, “is this indeed you? I did not expect to see you again. I thought you had left Paris. I have often intended to inquire for you, but I am so busy when I go to the city that I have not a minute to spare.” “You have then resumed business?” asked Eusebe. “Oh, no; far from it. I was so fortunate as to acquire enough to satisfy my modest desires; I live now quite at my ease. Now and then, ’tis true, I do a little something in the way of trade, just to kill time.” “One would suppose to see your house that it had been turned into a factory.” “Would you not? But such is by no means the case. I furnish a few of the merchants in the neighborhood: indeed, I sell almost as much as I did in Paris. This is the only pastime I have. Formerly I employed a salesman and a porter; now I am entirely alone. To tell the truth, I do the work of four; but, you know, it is necessary for a man to be occupied.” Without taking any further notice of his visitor, Lansade resumed his work among the glass and porcelain. After a few moments he said,-- “_Sans cérémonie_, M. Martin. Of course you remain to breakfast.” “Thank you,” said Eusebe: “it is absolutely necessary that I should be at Versailles before noon. I came to ask a favor.” A sudden change of expression was visible in Lansade’s features, and it was evident that he felt uncomfortable. “I should be glad,” continued the young man, “if you would tell me in what, in your opinion, duty consists.” “That is very easy, M. Martin,” replied the porcelain-merchant, his features resuming their usual expression. “Duty consists in working when one is young, in always honoring one’s signature, and in giving way to others when one has acquired a sufficiency.” Eusebe then took leave of the merchant. “I hope to see you again, M. Martin,” said Lansade. “Come breakfast with me one of these days. Let it be some Sunday.” The weather was fine; the shrubbery along the road was in bloom. Eusebe, who had not seen the country for a long time, felt, in spite of his preoccupation, the reviving influence of natural beauty, and resolved to pursue his journey afoot.