“We shall see about this,” answered Croisilles, as he hurried to the street where his home was.  He was eager to see the paternal roof again.  But when he arrived there so sad a spectacle met his gaze, that he had scarcely the courage to enter.  The shop was in utter disorder, the rooms deserted, his father’s alcove empty.  Everything presented to his eyes the wretchedness of utter ruin.  Not a chair remained; all the drawers had been ransacked, the till broken open, the chest taken away; nothing had escaped the greedy search of creditors and lawyers; who, after having pillaged the house, had gone, leaving the doors open, as though to testify to all passers-by how neatly their work was done.

“This, then,” exclaimed Croisilles, “is all that remains after thirty years of work and a respectable life,—­and all through the failure to have ready, on a given day, money enough to honor a signature imprudently given!”

While the young man walked up and down given over to the saddest thoughts, Jean seemed very much embarrassed.  He supposed that his master was without ready money, and that he might perhaps not even have dined.  He was therefore trying to think of some way to question him on the subject, and to offer him, in case of need, some part of his savings.  After having tortured his mind for a quarter of an hour to try and hit upon some way of leading up to the subject, he could find nothing better than to come up to Croisilles, and ask him, in a kindly voice: 

“Sir, do you still like roast partridges?”

The poor man uttered this question in a tone at once so comical and so touching, that Croisilles, in spite of his sadness, could not refrain from laughing.

“And why do you ask me that?” said he.

“My wife,” replied Jean, “is cooking me some for dinner, sir, and if by chance you still liked them—­”

Croisilles had completely forgotten till now the money which he was bringing back to his father.  Jean’s proposal reminded him that his pockets were full of gold.

“I thank you with all my heart,” said he to the old man, “and I accept your dinner with pleasure; but, if you are anxious about my fortune, be reassured.  I have more money than I need to have a good supper this evening, which you, in your turn, will share with me.”

Saying this, he laid upon the mantel four well-filled purses, which he emptied, each containing fifty louis.

“Although this sum does not belong to me,” he added, “I can use it for a day or two.  To whom must I go to have it forwarded to my father?”

“Sir,” replied Jean, eagerly, “your father especially charged me to tell you that this money belongs to you, and, if I did not speak of it before, it was because I did not know how your affairs in Paris had turned out.  Where he has gone your father will want for nothing; he will lodge with one of your correspondents, who will receive him most gladly; he has moreover taken with him enough for his immediate