“I have done what she wished.  She was no longer with us, Jean, and when a voice comes back to you from the grave and bids you do a thing ‘that a blessing may come,’ why, one must needs obey.  I did my best; and no doubt God was with me, for I have succeeded.  You have your education; so far so good, but we must not have a blessing turn into a curse.  And idleness is a curse.  I have worked like a packhorse, and given many a hard pull at the collar, in harness from morning to night.  I remember in particular one lot of cloth covers for the firm of Pigoreau that kept me on the job for thirty-six hours running.  And then there was the year when your examination fees had to be paid and I accepted an order in the English style; it was a terrible bit of work, for it’s not in my way at all, and at my time of life a man is not good at new methods.  They wanted a light sort of binding, with flexible boards as flimsy as paper almost.  I shed tears over it, but I learned the trick!  Ah! it is a famous tool, is a workman’s hand!  But an educated man’s brain is a far more wonderful thing still, and that tool you have, thanks to God in the first place, and to your mother in the second.  It was she had the notion of educating you, I only followed her lead.  Your work will be lighter than mine, but you must do it.  I am a poor man, as you know; but, were I rich, I would not give you the means to lead an idle life, because that would be tempting you to vices and shaming you.  Ah! if I thought your education had given you a taste for idleness, I should be sorry not to have made you a working man like myself.  But then, I know you have a good heart; you have not got into your stride yet, that’s all!  The first steps will be uphill work; Monsieur Bargemont said so.  The State services are overcrowded; there are over many graduates—­though it is well enough to be one.  Besides, I shall be at your back; I will help you, I will work for you; I have a pair of stout arms still.  You shall have pocket-money, never fear; you will want it among the folks you will live with.  We will save and pinch.  But you must help yourself, lad; never be afraid of hard work, hit out from the shoulder and strike home.  Good work never spoiled play yet.  Your job done, laugh and sing and amuse yourself to your heart’s content; you won’t find me interfere.  And, when you are a great man, if I am still in this world, don’t you be afraid; I shall not get in your way.  I am not a fellow to make a noise.  We will hide away in some quiet hole, your aunt and I, and nobody will hear one word said of the old father.”

Aunt Servien, who had slipped into the shop and been listening for the last few moments, broke into sobs; she was quite ready to follow her brother and hide away in a corner; but when her nephew had risen to greatness, she would insist on going every day to keep things straight in his grand house.  She was not going to leave “the little lad” to be a prey to housekeepers—­housekeepers, indeed, she called them housebreakers!