“When the Baron died, for instance, the Shepherdess all but followed him to the tomb, so violent and sincere was her grief, but—­next morning there was green peas at lunch, she was fond of green peas, the delicious green peas calmed the crisis.  Her daughters and her servants loved her so blindly that the whole household rejoiced over a circumstance that enabled them to hide the dolorous spectacle of the funeral from the sorrowing Baroness.  Isaure and Malvina would not allow their idolized mother to see their tears.

“While the Requiem was chanted, they diverted her thoughts to the choice of mourning dresses.  While the coffin was placed in the huge, black and white, wax-besprinkled catafalque that does duty for some three thousand dead in the course of its career—­so I was informed by a philosophically-minded mute whom I once consulted on a point over a couple of glasses of petit blanc—­while an indifferent priest mumbling the office for the dead, do you know what the friends of the departed were saying as, all dressed in black from head to foot, they sat or stood in the church? (Here is the picture you ordered.) Stay, do you see them?

“‘How much do you suppose old d’Aldrigger will leave?’ Desroches asked of Taillefer.—­You remember Taillefer that gave us the finest orgy ever known not long before he died?”

“He was in treaty for practice in 1822,” said Couture.  “It was a bold thing to do, for he was the son of a poor clerk who never made more than eighteen hundred francs a year, and his mother sold stamped paper.  But he worked very hard from 1818 to 1822.  He was Derville’s fourth clerk when he came; and in 1819 he was second!”

“Desroches?”

“Yes.  Desroches, like the rest of us, once groveled in the poverty of Job.  He grew so tired of wearing coats too tight and sleeves too short for him, that he swallowed down the law in desperation and had just bought a bare license.  He was a licensed attorney, without a penny, or a client, or any friends beyond our set; and he was bound to pay interest on the purchase-money and the cautionary deposit besides.”

“He used to make me feel as if I had met a tiger escaped from the Jardin des Plantes,” said Couture.  “He was lean and red-haired, his eyes were the color of Spanish snuff, and his complexion was harsh.  He looked cold and phlegmatic.  He was hard upon the widow, pitiless to the orphan, and a terror to his clerks; they were not allowed to waste a minute.  Learned, crafty, double-faced, honey-tongued, never flying into a passion, rancorous in his judicial way.”

“But there is goodness in him,” cried Finot; “he is devoted to his friends.  The first thing he did was to take Godeschal, Mariette’s brother, as his head-clerk.”