As he got into the coach, Oscar’s blue woollen stockings became visible, through the action of his trousers which drew up suddenly, also the new patch in the said trousers was seen, through the parting of his coat-tails.  The smiles of the two young men, on whom these signs of an honorable indigence were not lost, were so many fresh wounds to the lad’s vanity.

“The first place was engaged for Oscar,” said the mother to Pierrotin.  “Take the back seat,” she said to the boy, looking fondly at him with a loving smile.

Oh! how Oscar regretted that trouble and sorrow had destroyed his mother’s beauty, and that poverty and self-sacrifice prevented her from being better dressed!  One of the young men, the one who wore top-boots and spurs, nudged the other to make him take notice of Oscar’s mother, and the other twirled his moustache with a gesture which signified,—­

“Rather pretty figure!”

“How shall I ever get rid of mamma?” thought Oscar.

“What’s the matter?” asked Madame Clapart.

Oscar pretended not to hear, the monster!  Perhaps Madame Clapart was lacking in tact under the circumstances; but all absorbing sentiments have so much egotism!

“Georges, do you like children when travelling?” asked one young man of the other.

“Yes, my good Amaury, if they are weaned, and are named Oscar, and have chocolate.”

These speeches were uttered in half-tones to allow Oscar to hear them or not hear them as he chose; his countenance was to be the weather-gauge by which the other young traveller could judge how much fun he might be able to get out of the lad during the journey.  Oscar chose not to hear.  He looked to see if his mother, who weighed upon him like a nightmare, was still there, for he felt that she loved him too well to leave him so quickly.  Not only did he involuntarily compare the dress of his travelling companion with his own, but he felt that his mother’s toilet counted for much in the smiles of the two young men.

“If they would only take themselves off!” he said to himself.

Instead of that, Amaury remarked to Georges, giving a tap with his cane to the heavy wheel of the coucou: 

“And so, my friend, you are really going to trust your future to this fragile bark?”

“I must,” replied Georges, in a tone of fatalism.

Oscar gave a sigh as he remarked the jaunty manner in which his companion’s hat was stuck on one ear for the purpose of showing a magnificent head of blond hair beautifully brushed and curled; while he, by order of his step-father, had his black hair cut like a clothes-brush across the forehead, and clipped, like a soldier’s, close to the head.  The face of the vain lad was round and chubby and bright with the hues of health, while that of his fellow-traveller was long, and delicate, and pale.  The forehead of the latter was broad, and his chest filled out a waistcoat of cashmere pattern.  As Oscar admired