in his little _salon_ on this particular morning,--gloomy, worried, and out of sorts. Monsieur Roulleau noticed the change. Monsieur Roulleau noticed many things for which no one credited his little half-hidden eyes. Somebody once said of him that his face had not the resolution to show its owner's character, you might look at it for so long a time without finding any thing to read. It was answered that he was indeed a blank, his wife ruled and treated him as a cipher. On the whole, he was supposed to be a little, timid, good-natured creature, no one's enemy but his own, and urged on to exertion by his wife. Charville half pitied, half laughed at him. M. Deshoulieres had known the little man for many years, and did him good turns when they lay in his power. He looked upon him as something of a victim with this wife in the background, and her terribly strong will. The doctor pushed away his tumbler of wine, lit a cigar, and leaned back in his chair, thinking and frowning with all his might. He was quite unconscious that M. Roulleau, with his back to the window and the red curtains, was not letting a look or a sign escape him; but he grew a little worried with Veuve Angelin's ostentatious service. "That will do, Marie," he said sharply. "You can leave us and close the door." Veuve Angelin went away in a fume. After enduring the dulness of these men over their food, it was intolerable that she should be excluded from the more sociable condition which cigars were likely to produce. She slammed the door in token of wrath, and stayed close by it, picking up stray words and disconnected sentences which had the effect of adding rather to her bewilderment than her knowledge. "Bear witness," said the doctor at length, abruptly, "bear witness always, Roulleau, that I did my utmost to point out to Monsieur Moreau the absurdities, the inconveniences, of such an arrangement." The notary bowed and spread open his hands. "There can be no occasion for M. Deshoulieres to speak of witnesses when the world will have his own word." "True," replied M. Deshoulieres, simply. "Nevertheless, we both know enough of the world to be aware that it holds no prerogative so dear as that of doubt. You and I understand the matter clearly: there may be a dozen others in Charville who will trust me loyally, some will comprehend the broad fact that, by the law, my quality as the doctor attending M. Moreau in his last illness precludes my receiving any benefit whatever under his will. But for the rest--" "No one would be capable of cherishing thoughts so base, so detestable," exclaimed the notary, with a burst of enthusiasm.