He left the Abbe speechless, ran down the broad oaken stairs, and through a yard and a garden out into the Place Notre Dame. It was a calm, beautiful night, overhead the stars were shining, before him rose the Cathedral in silent, grave repose. "This night's work will be the making of Pinot," he thought to himself, as he walked under the dark houses. "All Charville will know of it to-morrow. He is a painstaking little man, without originality of conception, but able to benefit by what he sees practised, which is more than one can say of all one's trade. I am glad he should have this lift, though I shall miss the old Bishop's good-natured face." The next morning, when M. Deshoulieres went out early, Veuve Angelin devoutly hoped he was going to the Eveche. At his _dejeuner_, however, she waited upon him with so lugubrious a face, that he felt himself obliged to inquire into the cause. "It cannot be true. Monsieur would not look so unconcerned. Otherwise it is reported that monsieur was refused permission to see Monseigneur last evening." "It is quite true, Marie. A terrible fact." "And that creature, Victoire, was boasting through the market that her master was in attendance all night." "I am sorry to hear that Monseigneur required it." "But, monsieur--" "Well?" "You are ruined!" "I? Not at all." "Monsieur Pinot at the Eveche!" "We will get him an introduction to the Prefecture." "Monsieur should not jest. I shall never be able to hold up my head at the market again." "That is a very lamentable consequence. At all events, Marie, you will have the comfort of reflecting that a Bishop is at the bottom of your misfortunes." M. Deshoulieres sat smiling and unimpressed; Veuve Angelin was almost crying over the mortifications she foresaw to be in store for her, when a step sounded on the stairs. She went out and came running in again, radiant. "From the Eveche," she said, giving him a note. M. Deshoulieres, who was human, could not himself resist a little twinkle of satisfaction as he read. The Abbe, after making his compliments to M. Deshoulieres, begged him to call at the Eveche as soon as his other engagements would admit. The note was pointedly civil. "Poor man!" thought the doctor, folding it up with a smile. "Such a concession ought to serve for penance." "Monsieur is sent for?" asked Veuve Angelin, eagerly. "I am going to assist M. Pinot," answered the doctor, gravely. "Don't you know, Marie, that a great man has generally a second in command? After this, if Madame Victoire usurps the honours of the market, you may decidedly claim the privilege of following close behind."