"Is Monsieur Marechal in?" "Yes, sir, certainly. If you will allow me I will announce you." "It is unnecessary." And, stepping forward, he entered the office adjoining that of Madame Desvarennes. Seated at a large table of black wood, covered with bundles of papers and notes, a young man was working. He was thirty years of age, but appeared much older. His prematurely bald forehead, and wrinkled brow, betokened a life of severe struggles and privations, or a life of excesses and pleasures. Still those clear and pure eyes were not those of a libertine, and the straight nose solidly joined to the face was that of a searcher. Whatever the cause, the man was old before his time. On hearing the door of his office open, he raised his eyes, put down his pen, and was making a movement toward his visitor, when the latter interrupted him quickly with these words: "Don't stir, Marechal, or I shall be off! I only came in until Aunt Desvarennes is at liberty; but if I disturb you I will go and take a turn, smoke a cigar, and come back in three quarters of an hour." "You do not disturb me, Monsieur Savinien; at least not often enough, for be it said, without reproaching you, it is more than three months since we have seen anything of you. There, the post is finished. I was writing the last addresses." And taking a heavy bundle of papers off the desk, Marechal showed them to Savinien. "Gracious! It seems that business is going on well here." "Better and better." "You are making mountains of flour." "Yes; high as Mont Blanc; and then, we now have a fleet." "What! a fleet?" cried Savinien, whose face expressed doubt and surprise at the same time. "Yes, a steam fleet. Last year Madame Desvarennes was not satisfied with the state in which her corn came from the East. The corn was damaged owing to defective stowage; the firm claimed compensation from the steamship company. The claim was only moderately satisfied, Madame Desvarennes got vexed, and now we import our own. We have branches at Smyrna and Odessa." "It is fabulous! If it goes on, my aunt will have an administration as important as that of a European state. Oh! you are happy here, you people; you are busy. I amuse myself! And if you knew how it wearies me! I am withering, consuming myself, I am longing for business." And saying these words, young Monsieur Desvarennes allowed a sorrowful moan to escape him. "It seems to me," said Marechal, "that it only depends upon yourself to do as much and more business than any one?" "You know well enough that it is not so," sighed Savinien; "my aunt is opposed to it." "What a mistake!" cried Marechal, quickly. "I have heard Madame Desvarennes say more than twenty times how she regretted your being unemployed. Come into the firm, you will have a good berth in the counting-house."