There, my poor boy, is all that I have been able to do to reward your good intentions and to prove to you that I am no longer angry.  I think the relations are going to pull a long face.  Come and talk about it to-day at four o’clock,—­for I don’t dine after bedtime, as I saw some people doing last night in a house where I had occasion to mention your talents in a manner that was very advantageous to you.  Madame Lambert, who does better with a saucepan than with pen and ink, shall distinguish herself, though it is Friday, and she never lets me off a fast day.  But she has promised us a fish dinner worthy of an archbishop, with a fine half-bottle of champagne (doubled if need be) to wash it down.

Your old professor and friend,
Picot (Nepomucene),
Chevalier of the Legion of honor.

P.S.—­Do you think you could obtain from your respectable mother a little flask of that old and excellent cognac you once gave me?  Not a drop remains, and yesterday I was forced to drink some stuff only fit to bathe horses’ feet, as I did not hesitate to say to the beautiful Hebe who served it to me.

“Of course he shall have some,” said Madame Phellion; “not a flask, but a gallon.”

“And I,” said Minard, “who pique myself on mine, which didn’t come from Brigitte’s grocer either, I’ll send him several bottles; but don’t tell him who sent them, Monsieur le chevalier, for you never can tell how that singular being will take things.”

“Wife,” said Phellion, suddenly, “get me my black coat and a white cravat.”

“Where are you going?” asked Madame Phellion.  “To the minister, to thank him?”

“Bring me, I say, those articles of habiliment.  I have an important visit to make; and Monsieur le maire will, I know, excuse me.”

“I myself must be off,” said Minard.  “I, too, have important business, though it isn’t about a star.”

Questioned in vain by Felix and his wife, Phellion completed his attire with a pair of white gloves, sent for a carriage, and, at the end of half an hour, entered the presence of Brigitte, whom he found presiding over the careful putting away of the china, glass, and silver which had performed their several functions the night before.  Leaving these housekeeping details, she received her visitor.

“Well, papa Phellion,” she said, when they were both seated in the salon, “you broke your word yesterday; you were luckier than the rest.  Do you know what a trick that notary played us?”

“I know all,” said Phellion; “and it is the check thus unexpectedly given to the execution of your plans that I shall take for the text of an important conversation which I desire to have with you.  Sometimes Providence would seem to take pleasure in counteracting our best-laid schemes; sometimes, also, by means of the obstacles it raises in our path, it seems to intend to indicate that we are bearing too far to the right or to the left, and should pause to reflect upon our way.”