Jumeau left the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and Lavenne sat on the bed waiting his return, and glancing about him at the poorly furnished room, dimly lit by a candle tufted with a “letter,” like a miniature cauliflower. In five minutes, Jumeau returned. “Well,” said Lavenne, “what luck?” “The best, Monsieur Lavenne. He is in a good humour. He asked me all sorts of questions as to my mother, spoke of filial duty and gave me leave of absence for three days. He wishes to see you.” Lavenne rose from the bed. “Let us go at once, then,” said he, “before his good-humour changes. Lead the way, introduce me to him, and then say nothing more. I will do the talking.” They left the room. Monsieur Brujon’s office was situated on the same floor, that is to say, the basement. It was a fairly large room, with an old bureau in one corner, where Monsieur Brujon kept his receipted bills, his correspondence, his keys and a hundred odds and ends that had no place in a bureau; old playbills, ballades, wine labels, a questionable book or two, corks, shoe-buckles and so forth. He was a character, Monsieur Brujon. Untidy as his bureau, stout, rubicund, with a fatherly manner and an eye for a pretty girl, he was a fine example of the old French servant that flourished in feudal times, the servant who became a part of the family, drank his master’s wine, knew his master’s secrets, and through other servants of his kind the secrets of half the town or countryside where he lived. “Ah,” said Brujon, “this is the young man who has come to take your place. He has some knowledge of his work, then?” “Yes, monsieur.” “In whose service did you say he was last?” “Monsieur,” said Lavenne, “I was in the service of Monsieur Le Roux, and to expedite matters, I have brought with me the testimonial that he gave me on my leaving him?” “And why did you leave him?” “Oh, monsieur,” said Lavenne, remembering Monsieur Brujon’s instinct for gossip, “it was not that he had any fault to find with me, or I with him; it was on account of madame.” “Eh, madame! Had she a temper, then?” “It was not her temper so much as other things, monsieur.” Monsieur Brujon read the testimonial and expressed himself satisfied, told Jumeau that he might take his departure, and Lavenne that he might remain; then when the door was shut, he turned to the new-comer. “Well,” said he, “what was the matter with madame?” When Lavenne had finished his revelations, M. Brujon, chuckling and gloating, rose to conduct the new-comer round the house, so that he might have the lie of the premises. He took him through the basement, showed him the kitchen, the plate pantry, the room he was to occupy by the pantry, and the other offices. Then upstairs, that the new servant might see the dining-room, to which it was his duty to convey the plate. As they went on their way, Brujon conversed, and Lavenne, who had already taken the measure of his man, led the talk to Camus.