Standing upon a bench, a little short man was exciting transports of indignation by describing the magnificence of the Baron de Thaller’s residence, where he had once had some dealings. He had counted five carriages in the carriage-house, fifteen horses in the stables, and Heaven knows how many servants. He had never been inside the apartments, but he had visited the kitchen; and he declared that he had been dazzled by the number and brightness of the saucepans, ranged in order of size over the furnace. Gathered in a group under the vestibule, the most sensible deplored their rash confidence. “That’s the way,” concluded one, “with all these adventurous affairs.” “That’s a fact. There’s nothing, after all, like government bonds.” “Or a first mortgage on good property, with subrogation of the wife’s rights.” But what exasperated them all was not to be admitted to the presence of M. de Thaller, and to see that servant mounting guard before the door. “What impudence,” they growled, “to leave us on the stairs!--we who are the masters, after all.” “Who knows where M. de Thaller may be?” “He is hiding, of course.” “No matter: I will see him,” clamored a big fat man, with a brick-colored face, “if I shouldn’t stir from here for a week.” “You’ll see nothing at all,” giggled his neighbor. “Do you suppose they don’t have back-stairs and private entrances in this infernal shop?” “Ah! if I believed any thing of the kind,” exclaimed the big man in a voice trembling with passion. “I’d soon break in some of these doors: it isn’t so hard, after all.” Already he was gazing at the servant with an alarming air, when an old gentleman with a discreet look, stepped up to him, and inquired, “Excuse me, sir: how many shares have you?” “Three,” answered the man with the brick-colored face. The other sighed. “I have two hundred and fifty,” he said. “That’s why, being at least as interested as yourself in not losing every thing, I beg of you to indulge in no violent proceedings.” There was no need of further speaking. The door which the servant was guarding flew open. A clerk appeared, and made sign that he wished to speak. “Gentlemen,” he began, “M. de Thaller has just come; but he is just now engaged with the examining judge.” Shouts having drowned his voice, he withdrew precipitately. “If the law gets its finger in,” murmured the discreet gentleman, “good-by!” “That’s a fact,” said another. “But we will have the precious advantage of hearing that dear baron condemned to one year’s imprisonment, and a fine of fifty francs. That’s the regular rate. He wouldn’t get off so cheap, if he had stolen a loaf of bread from a baker.” “Do you believe that story about the judge?” interrupted rudely the big man.