old house. From this moment, my father became more ill than ever, he took fever and was confined to his bed, and in his delirium he repeated without end : " Put the horses to, Felix, put the horses to, for I want to go to Alenc,on to get some news of Jean ! " He imagined himself starting out on the road. " Gid up, gid up, Bichette, gid up, come on!... We are going to have some news of Jean this evening. . . . Gid up, gid up, come on ! . . And my poor father gently breathed his last in the arms of the cure Blanchetiere, surrounded by Felix and Marie who were sobbing!... After a six months' stay at the Priory, now sadder than ever, I was weary to death. . . Old Marie, accustomed to manage the house according to her own notions, was unbearable to me ; in spite of her devotion, her whims exasperated me, and there always were long altercations in which I never had the last word. For my only company I had the good cure to whom nothing appealed as much as the profession of a notary. From morning till night he used to lecture to me thus:

" Your grandfather was a notary, so was your father, your uncles, your cousins, in fact your whole family. . . . You owe it to yourself, my dear child, not to desert your post. You shall be Mayor of Saint- Michel, you may even hope to replace your poor father at the general council, in a few years. . . . Why man alive, that's something ! And then take my word for it times are going to be pretty hard for decent people who love the good Lord. . . . You see that rascal Lebecq, he is municipal counsellor. All he thinks of is how to rob and kill people, that brigand there. . . . We need at the head of our country a right-minded man to uphold religion and defend the principles of righteousness. . . . Paris, Paris ! . . . Oh ! these silly heads, those youngsters ! . . . But will you