"Eh, by God's thunder! it is precisely because he paid with his own person that you did not need to make yourself so generous at my expense, and pay out of my purse," cried the booby, interrupting his wife. "How," replied Marie, confounded by this reproach, "did you know that Frederick--" "Had gone, like so many others, to the aid of the inundated families? Zounds! I was bored with that talk in Pont Brillant. That is a fine affair indeed. Who forced him to do it? If he did it, it was because it suited him to do it. Oh, well, so much the better for him. Besides, the newspapers are full of such tricks. And yet, if the name of my son had at least been put in the journal betimes, that would have pleased me." "Perhaps he would have had the cross of honour," added the bailiff, with a bantering, sarcastic air. "Besides, we must have a talk about my son, and a serious one," continued Jacques Bastien. "My companion, Bridou, will also have a say in that." "I do not understand you," answered Marie, stammering. "What relation can M. Bridou possibly have with Frederick?" "You will know, because we will have a talk to-morrow, and with you, and about a good deal. Do not think you understand that this affair of my thousand fir-trees will pass like a letter by the post. But it is six o'clock, let us have dinner." And he rang. At these words, Marie remembered the silver plate carried to the city and sold in the absence and without the knowledge of her husband. Had she been alone with Jacques, she would have endured his threats and injuries and anger, but when she thought of the transports of rage he would yield to before her son and David, she was frightened at the possible consequences of such a scene, and with reason. Jacques Bastien went on talking: "Have you had a good fire made in Bridou's chamber? I wrote to you that he would spend several days here." "I thought you would share your chamber with M. Bridou," replied Madame Bastien. "Unless you do, I do not see how I can lodge the gentleman." "What! there is a chamber up-stairs." "But that is occupied by my son's preceptor." "You are very fine, you are, with your preceptor. Ah, well, 'tis easy to take him by the shoulders and put him out, your Latin spitter, and there's the room." "I should be distressed to put him out," said the bailiff. "I would prefer to go back." "Come, come, Bridou, evidently we are going to quarrel," replied Jacques. Then, turning to his wife, he said, angrily: "What! I warned you this morning that Bridou would spend several days here, and nothing is prepared?" "But, monsieur, I ask again, where do you wish me to put the preceptor of my son if M. Bridou occupies his chamber?" "The preceptor of my son," repeated Jacques, puffing up his cheeks and shrugging his shoulders; "you have only that in your mouth, playing the duchess. Ah well! the preceptor of your son can sleep with André, it won't kill him." "But surely, monsieur," said Marie, "you do not think that--"