'Yes, yes,' said he, 'he has the very voice and look of Pithou; his gestures, his walk. No doubt this Peter Pithou junior will turn out a rogue, like his father.' 'But only one word,' said Durand; 'take my advice; marry Gustavus, who is not to blame in this matter, and buy this beautiful cameo. You will never get another such a chance.' 'I beg you, Sir, to hold your tongue about that cursed cameo!' said d'Herbois, sternly, to his friend. 'But remember, my good Sir, you are a philosopher, and have defied the whole world to disturb the serenity of your soul, or the tranquillity of your spirit.' 'Philosopher! when I have lost my only child!' 'You have lost nothing. Gustavus is in good health. As for the one that died twenty years ago, you have never known him; in fact, have scarcely seen him. Beside, where is the merit and advantage of philosophy, if it is not able to console you under afflictions; to moderate grief, and impart to the mind the calmness requisite to diminish evil, and enable you to arrive at truth?' Instead of making answer, the philosopher burst into tears; two briny streams flowed down his cheeks, attesting the vanity of his stoicism, and the superiority of Thales of Melitus over Thales of Paris. 'Ah ha!' exclaimed M. Durand, on witnessing the deep humiliation of his friend, 'have I then conquered your philosophy? But cheer up! Lapierre! Lapierre! come this way.' Lapierre entered; he had laid aside his livery, and had on still the farmer's large coat. 'Here is Pithou, and there is no other; it is Lapierre, my valet. The claim he sets up for your son is all a matter of moonshine. I was acquainted with all the circumstances, and laid my plans accordingly. The true Pithou is still at Pontoise, employed in fattening calves. He has married a second time, has a score of children, and has no thoughts of coming here to claim a son who is none of his. And now, Monsieur Philosopher, is it thus you put in practice the professions you are daily preaching? Is it thus you exemplify the maxims of the great Thales? Let but misfortune touch your little finger, and you are beside yourself: you examine nothing, neither the truth, nor even the probability of a thing; and before the slightest proofs are laid before you, you withdraw your affections, almost discard your child, and are eager to send a man off to the galleys! And yet one of the maxims of Thales was, 'Never decide any thing rashly.'