As for Monsieur Gérondif, who passed a large part of his time in sleep, and another large part at the table, and who had adopted the habit of reading Voltaire or Racine to Mademoiselle Turlurette of an evening, telling her that he had composed the lines that morning, when he learned what Monsieur Poterne had done, he exclaimed: “That man never read _Deuteronomy_, where it says: _Non furtum facies_; or else he mistranslated it.” A few days after this adventure, Monfréville, returning from the country, came at once to see Chérubin. When he spied the pack of hounds, the parrots, the turtle, the canes, the gothic vases, and all the alleged rare objects with which his young friend’s house was filled to overflowing, he uttered an exclamation which was not of delight, and said to Chérubin: “Mon Dieu! what on earth induced you to buy all this stuff?” “They are all bargains. I was told that they were very fine.” “Fine! Why, they are all horrible, in wretched taste, and of no value whatever. Your parrots are wretched cockatoos, your dogs are miserable curs that I would not have to guard chickens! Even your canes are common sticks of wood; this rattan is an imitation, it was never what it pretends to be.” “What did I say?” cried Jasmin; “that Poterne is an infernal pickpocket; he has taken us in with everything, just as he did with the jewels.--Tell monsieur the story of our watch, my dear master.” Chérubin told Monfréville what had happened to him. “If it was Monsieur Poterne who sold you all this,” said Monfréville, “I am surprised no longer! But Daréna--do you still see him?” “Yes,” replied Chérubin; “he was indignant at his agent’s conduct, and he has told me since that he had beaten him and dismissed him from his service.” Monfréville smiled faintly; then he took Chérubin’s hand and said: