"That clodhopper, that peasant, will offer her his hand, monsieur, and make her his wife; he will love in her the mother of his children, and will never leave her. Don't you suppose that those things weigh more in the scales than the glances and sighs and pretty speeches of the young man from Paris?" "You are right, Bertrand; sometimes I have no common sense. Let us say no more about Denise. I will go to see her when she's married; but until then I don't propose to go to Montfermeil again; the girl is too enticing." "Bravo! that is acting like an honorable man, lieutenant." Auguste started for his notary's; as he went downstairs he met Madame Saint-Edmond for the first time since the adventure at the Tournebride. At sight of Auguste, Léonie stopped, leaned against the wall, turned her head away, drew her handkerchief, and omitted nothing calculated to give the impression that she was about to faint; but Auguste, paying no heed to his neighbor's expressive pantomime, contented himself with a low bow, and passed without stopping. The notary handed Dalville the funds which he had in his hands belonging to him. Auguste put two hundred and fifty thousand francs in his wallet, and left the balance with Bertrand, urging him to be less economical in his expenditure, because, as their fortune was about to be doubled, he did not see why they should deny themselves anything. The next afternoon, at five, Auguste took his wallet and went to Destival's house, bidding Bertrand enjoy himself while he was away. To obey his master, the ex-corporal went in search of his friend Schtrack, with whom he proposed to take a short promenade. The business agent had taken larger apartments than those he formerly occupied. He had mounted his household with more splendor, and although he could not as yet rival Monsieur de la Thomassinière in magnificence, it was plain that he was doing all that he could to approach him. As a general rule, however, the pains that one takes to deceive the eyes do not have the hoped-for result, and serve only to arouse mockery. One rarely succeeds in art by departing from one's specialty; and in the world he who tries to make himself out what he is not, is a laughing-stock. In vain does the grisette, beneath her big bonnet, strive to copy the simpers of a lady in society; in vain does the tailor's apprentice, newly-clad from head to foot, believe that, because he is dressed in the latest fashion, he has the air and aspect of a stockbroker. The natural characteristics always show through; one may impose on the multitude, and amid the multitude pass for what one is not; but at the slightest examination, "The mask falls, the man remains, The hero vanishes."