“Listen to me, madame,” said the little old man, “and don’t weep; it is most painful to me to see a fair lady cry.  After all, your son bears the name of Husson, and if my dear deceased wife were living she would wish to do something for the name of her father and of her brother—­”

“She loved her brother,” said Oscar’s mother.

“But all my fortune is given to my children, who expect nothing from me at my death,” continued the old man.  “I have divided among them the millions that I had, because I wanted to see them happy and enjoying their wealth during my lifetime.  I have nothing now except an annuity; and at my age one clings to old habits.  Do you know the path on which you ought to start this young fellow?” he went on, after calling to Oscar and taking him by the arm.  “Let him study law; I’ll pay the costs.  Put him in a lawyer’s office and let him learn the business of pettifogging; if he does well, if he distinguishes himself, if he likes his profession and I am still alive, each of my children shall, when the proper time comes, lend him a quarter of the cost of a practice; and I will be security for him.  You will only have to feed and clothe him.  Of course he’ll sow a few wild oats, but he’ll learn life.  Look at me:  I left Lyon with two double louis which my grandmother gave me, and walked to Paris; and what am I now?  Fasting is good for the health.  Discretion, honesty, and work, young man, and you’ll succeed.  There’s a great deal of pleasure in earning one’s fortune; and if a man keeps his teeth he eats what he likes in his old age, and sings, as I do, ‘La Mere Godichon.’  Remember my words:  Honesty, work, discretion.”

“Do you hear that, Oscar?” said his mother.  “Your uncle sums up in three words all that I have been saying to you.  You ought to carve the last word in letters of fire on your memory.”

“Oh, I have,” said Oscar.

“Very good,—­then thank your uncle; didn’t you hear him say he would take charge of your future?  You will be a lawyer in Paris.”

“He doesn’t see the grandeur of his destiny,” said the little old man, observing Oscar’s apathetic air.  “Well, he’s just out of school.  Listen, I’m no talker,” he continued; “but I have this to say:  Remember that at your age honesty and uprightness are maintained only by resisting temptations; of which, in a great city like Paris, there are many at every step.  Live in your mother’s home, in the garret; go straight to the law-school; from there to your lawyer’s office; drudge night and day, and study at home.  Become, by the time you are twenty-two, a second clerk; by the time you are twenty-four, head-clerk; be steady, and you will win all.  If, moreover, you shouldn’t like the profession, you might enter the office of my son the notary, and eventually succeed him.  Therefore, work, patience, discretion, honesty,—­those are your landmarks.”

“God grant that you may live thirty years longer to see your fifth child realizing all we expect from him,” cried Madame Clapart, seizing uncle Cardot’s hand and pressing it with a gesture that recalled her youth.