In his youth he had thought of the army, then of a diplomatic career; for a time, too, of the stage. But he had been too poor to enter either of the first two professions, and for the stage he was unfitted by temperament. Now, in his imagination a brilliant career stretched before him, combining both glory and love. Up to the present he had not lived; his life was about to begin. The world seemed to open out to him! He would travel from one end of the earth to the other in an unbroken march of triumph. Even Paris lost attractiveness for him and seemed uninteresting and petty; he pitied the poor _boulevardiers_ who were bound to a wretched routine of existence, who loved it simply because they knew of no other. He would not only visit America again--this time not in a sordid capacity, friendless and lonely, but surrounded by a retinue--he would go also to Russia, to India, to Australia, perhaps to Japan and the other countries of the remote East. The night when he was first enchanted by this vision, he could not sleep for excitement till nearly four o'clock. Then he saw the vision realized, only to be shattered by Madeleine's cracked voice, and her injunction that it was time for him to get up and go to his work. In the evening, when he saw his friends again, he found them very unhappy; they had just received news from Jeanne that Aunt Sophie was very ill, threatened with pneumonia. Madame Perrault was in tears, and Mademoiselle Blanche's eyes showed that she, too, had been crying. The next day, they said, Jeanne had promised to write, and the next night Jules learned that bad news had been received. The doctor pronounced the case pneumonia, and said the patient was in great danger. Mamma must come on, Jeanne wrote. But Madame explained to Jules with sobs that she could not leave Blanche. "And my poor Jeanne, what will she do, a child of fourteen with only the little Louise to help her." Then Jules became inspired. His faithful Madeleine--she would save the situation. Madame Perrault might go to Boulogne by the first train, and Madeleine would take her place, would be a second mother to Mademoiselle Blanche, accompany her to the theatre, help her to dress, come back with her, keep her from being lonely. Jules wanted to rush off at once, and bring Madeleine to the _rue St. Honoré_, for inspection and approval. Then the girl's quiet wisdom asserted itself. Jeanne had said there was no immediate danger; so if Mamma took the train in the morning, that would be in quite time enough. After their _petit déjeuner_ they might call on Madeleine, or Monsieur Jules might tell them if she would come. Then Jules burst into a eulogy of Madeleine's qualities: he had never before realized what a good soul she was. He would bring her with him, he said, in the morning, on his way to the office; he knew she would be glad to come.