come right whenever religion gets the upper hand.  For this reason, you must beg Monsieur Hochon to keep an eye, as well as he can, on the condition of your uncle’s property.  It is necessary to know if the real estate is mortgaged, and if so, where and in whose name the proceeds are invested.  It is so easy to terrify an old man with fears about his life, in case you find him despoiling his own property for the sake of these interlopers, that almost any heir with a little adroitness could stop the spoliation at its outset.  But how should your mother, with her ignorance of the world, her disinterestedness, and her religious ideas, know how to manage such an affair?  However, I am not able to throw any light on the matter.  All that you have done so far has probably given the alarm, and your adversaries may already have secured themselves—­

“That is what I call an opinion in good shape,” exclaimed Monsieur Hochon, proud of being himself appreciated by a Parisian lawyer.

“Oh!  Desroches is a famous fellow,” answered Joseph.

“It would be well to read that letter to the two women,” said the old man.

“There it is,” said Joseph, giving it to him; “as to me, I want to be off to-morrow; and I am now going to say good-by to my uncle.”

“Ah!” said Monsieur Hochon, “I see that Monsieur Desroches tells you in a postscript to burn the letter.”

“You can burn it after showing it to my mother,” said the painter.

Joseph dressed, crossed the little square, and called on his uncle, who was just finishing breakfast.  Max and Flore were at table.

“Don’t disturb yourself, my dear uncle; I have only come to say good-by.”

“You are going?” said Max, exchanging glances with Flore.

“Yes; I have some work to do at the chateau of Monsieur de Serizy, and I am all the more glad of it because his arm is long enough to do a service to my poor brother in the Chamber of Peers.”

“Well, well, go and work”; said old Rouget, with a silly air.  Joseph thought him extraordinarily changed within a few days.  “Men must work —­I am sorry you are going.”

“Oh! my mother will be here some time longer,” remarked Joseph.

Max made a movement with his lips which the Rabouilleuse observed, and which signified:  “They are going to try the plan Baruch warned me of.”

“I am very glad I came,” said Joseph, “for I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance and you have enriched my studio—­”

“Yes,” said Flore, “instead of enlightening your uncle on the value of his pictures, which is now estimated at over one hundred thousand francs, you have packed them off in a hurry to Paris.  Poor dear man! he is no better than a baby!  We have just been told of a little treasure at Bourges,—­what did they call it? a Poussin,—­which was in the choir of the cathedral before the Revolution and is now worth, all by itself, thirty thousand francs.”