"Yes, make fun of me by all means. You know I get carried away, as you tell me. And your Montbreton--but how silly I am, to be sure. He doesn't belong to us, this man, does he? Oh, if it were one of my family who had done such a thing, such a dishonourable thing, such a----" She stopped short for a second, and then began again: "I think," she said, speaking with an effort, as though the tears were coming into her eyes, "I think I could never love him again. Yes, it seems to me as though my heart would be perfectly hard as far as he was concerned." "Good! this is quite touching. We had the young orator just now, and at present it is the little girl's turn. You'd do better to come and look at this caricature album that Davarande has sent your mother." "Ah yes, let's look at that," said Renee, going quickly across to her father and leaning on his shoulder as he turned over the leaves. She glanced at two or three pages and then looked away. "There, I've had enough of them, thank you. Goodness, how can people enjoy making things ugly--uglier than nature? What a queer idea. Now in art, in books, and in everything, I'm for all that is beautiful, and not for what is ugly. Then, too, I don't think caricatures are amusing. It's the same with hunchbacks--it never makes me laugh to see a hunchback. Do you like caricatures, Denoisel?" "Do I? No, they make me want to howl. Yes, it is a kind of comical thing that hurts me," answered Denoisel, picking up a Review that was next the album. "Caricatures are like petrified jokes to me. I can never see one on a table without thinking of a lot of dismal things, such as the wit of the Directory, Carle Vernet's drawings, and the gaiety of middle-class society." "Thank you," said M. Mauperin laughing, "and in addition to that you are cutting my _Revue des Deux Mondes_ with a match. How hopeless he is, to be sure, Denoisel." "Do you want a knife, Denoisel?" asked Renee, plunging her hand into her pockets and pulling out a whole collection of things, which she threw on the table. "By Jove!" exclaimed Denoisel, "why, you have a regular museum in your pockets. You'd have enough for a whole sale at the auction-rooms. What in the world are all those things?" "Presents from a certain person, and they go about with me everywhere. There's the knife for you," and Renee showed it to her father before passing it to Denoisel. "Do you remember where you bought it for me?" she asked. "It was at Langres once when we had stopped for a fresh horse; oh, it's a very old one. This one," she continued, picking up another, "you brought me from Nogent. It has a silver blade, if you please; I gave you a halfpenny for it, do you remember?" "Ah, if we are to begin making inventories!" said M. Mauperin laughing. "And what's in that?" asked Denoisel, pointing to a little worn-out pocket-book stuffed full of papers, the dirty crumpled edges of which could be seen at each end.