“What luck,” said Oscar to Godeschal, as they were getting up in the morning, “that I had just ordered a new coat and trousers and waistcoat, and that my dear mother had made me that fine outfit!  I have six frilled shirts of fine linen in the dozen she made for me.  We shall make an appearance!  Ha! ha! suppose one of us were to carry off the Creole marchioness from that Georges Marest!”

“Fine occupation that, for a clerk in our office!” cried Godeschal.  “Will you never control your vanity, popinjay?”

“Ah! monsieur,” said Madame Clapart, who entered the room at that moment to bring her son some cravats, and overhead the last words of the head-clerk, “would to God that my Oscar might always follow your advice.  It is what I tell him all the time:  ’Imitate Monsieur Godeschal; listen to what he tells you.’”

“He’ll go all right, madame,” interposed Godeschal, “but he mustn’t commit any more blunders like one he was guilty of last night, or he’ll lose the confidence of the master.  Monsieur Desroches won’t stand any one not succeeding in what he tells them to do.  He ordered your son, for a first employment in his new clerkship, to get a copy of a judgment which ought to have been served last evening, and Oscar, instead of doing so, allowed himself to be fooled.  The master was furious.  It’s a chance if I have been able to repair the mischief by going this morning, at six o’clock, to see the head-clerk at the Palais, who has promised me to have a copy ready by seven o’clock to-morrow morning.”

“Ah, Godeschal!” cried Oscar, going up to him and pressing his hand.  “You are, indeed, a true friend.”

“Ah, monsieur!” said Madame Clapart, “a mother is happy, indeed, in knowing that her son has a friend like you; you may rely upon a gratitude which can end only with my life.  Oscar, one thing I want to say to you now.  Distrust that Georges Marest.  I wish you had never met him again, for he was the cause of your first great misfortune in life.”

“Was he?  How so?” asked Godeschal.

The too devoted mother explained succinctly the adventure of her poor Oscar in Pierrotin’s coucou.

“I am certain,” said Godeschal, “that that blagueur is preparing some trick against us for this evening.  As for me, I can’t go to the Marquise de las Florentinas’ party, for my sister wants me to draw up the terms of her new engagement; I shall have to leave after the dessert.  But, Oscar, be on your guard.  They will ask you to play, and, of course, the Desroches office mustn’t draw back; but be careful.  You shall play for both of us; here’s a hundred francs,” said the good fellow, knowing that Oscar’s purse was dry from the demands of his tailor and bootmaker.  “Be prudent; remember not to play beyond that sum; and don’t let yourself get tipsy, either with play or libations.  Saperlotte! a second clerk is already a man of weight, and shouldn’t gamble on notes, or go beyond a certain limit in anything.  His business is to get himself admitted to the bar.  Therefore don’t drink too much, don’t play too long, and maintain a proper dignity,—­that’s your rule of conduct.  Above all, get home by midnight; for, remember, you must be at the Palais to-morrow morning by seven to get that judgment.  A man is not forbidden to amuse himself, but business first, my boy.”