“First, the fact that he is a natural child. You don’t suppose that a boy of his age runs away from home without having touched the lowest depths?... And then I have an idea that Profitendieu was seized with some suspicions, for his zeal suddenly cooled down; more than that, he seemed to be backing out, and the last time I asked him how the affair was going on he seemed embarrassed: ‘I think, after all that nothing will come of it,’ he said and hastily changed the subject. Poor Profitendieu! I must say he doesn’t deserve it. He’s an honest man, and what’s rarer perhaps, a good fellow. By the way, his daughter has just married exceedingly well. I wasn’t able to go to the wedding because I was in Holland, but Pauline and George came back on purpose. Did I tell you that before? It’s time I went and had my nap.... What! really? You want to pay it all? No, no! You mustn’t. Bachelors--old friends--go shares.... No use? Well! well! Good-bye! Don’t forget that Pauline is coming back in two days. Come and see us. And don’t call me Molinier. Won’t you say Oscar?... I’ve been meaning to ask you for a long time.” This evening a note from Rachel, Laura’s sister: “I have something very serious to say to you. Could you, without inconvenience, look in at the school to-morrow afternoon? It would be doing me a great service.” If she had wanted to speak about Laura, she wouldn’t have waited so long. This is the first time she has written to me. II EDOUARD’S JOURNAL: AT THE VEDELS’ _Sept. 28th._--I found Rachel standing at the door of the big class-room on the ground floor. Two servants were washing the boards. She herself had a servant’s apron on and was holding a duster in her hand. “I knew I could count on you,” she said, holding out her hand with a look on her face of tender, resigned sadness, and yet a look that was smiling too, and more touching than beauty itself. “If you aren’t in too great a hurry, the best thing would be for you first to go up and pay grandfather a little visit, and then Mamma. If they heard you had been here without seeing them, they would be hurt. But keep a little time for me; I simply must speak to you. You will find me here; you see, I am superintending the maids’ work.” Out of a kind of modesty, she never says “my work.” Rachel has effaced herself all her life and nothing could be more discreet, more retiring than her virtue. Abnegation is so natural to her, that not one of her family is grateful to her for her perpetual self-sacrifice. She has the most beautiful woman’s nature that I know. I went up to the second floor to see old Azaïs. He hardly ever leaves his arm-chair nowadays. He made me sit down beside him and began talking about La Pérouse almost at once.