“Well,” said an old footman who had been in the family thirty years, “the count has had another unhappy scene with his son.  The old fellow has been in a dreadful passion.”

“I got wind of it at dinner,” spoke up a valet de chambre:  “the count restrained himself enough not to burst out before me; but he rolled his eyes fiercely.”

“What can be the matter?”

“Pshaw! that’s more than they know themselves.  Why, Denis, before whom they always speak freely, says that they often wrangle for hours together, like dogs, about things which he can never see through.”

“Ah,” cried out a young fellow, who was being trained to service, “if I were in the viscount’s place, I’d settle the old gent pretty effectually!”

“Joseph, my friend,” said the footman pointedly, “you are a fool.  You might give your father his walking ticket very properly, because you never expect five sous from him; and you have already learned how to earn your living without doing any work at all.  But the viscount, pray tell me what he is good for, what he knows how to do?  Put him in the centre of Paris, with only his fine hands for capital, and you will see.”

“Yes, but he has his mother’s property in Normandy,” replied Joseph.

“I can’t for the life of me,” said the valet de chambre, “see what the count finds to complain of; for his son is a perfect model, and I shouldn’t be sorry to have one like him.  There was a very different pair, when I was in the Marquis de Courtivois’s service.  He was one who made it a point never to be in good humor.  His eldest son, who is a friend of the viscount’s, and who comes here occasionally, is a pit without a bottom, as far as money is concerned.  He will fritter away a thousand-franc note quicker than Joseph can smoke a pipe.”

“But the marquis is not rich,” said a little old man, who himself had perhaps the enormous wages of fifteen francs; “he can’t have more than sixty thousand francs’ income at the most.”

“That’s why he gets angry.  Every day there is some new story about his son.  He had an apartment in the house; he went in and out when he pleased; he passed his nights in gaming and drinking; he cut up so with the actresses that the police had to interfere.  Besides all this, I have many a time had to help him up to his room, and put him to bed, when the waiters from the restaurants brought him home in a carriage, so drunk that he could scarcely say a word.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Joseph enthusiastically, “this fellow’s service must be mighty profitable.”

“That was according to circumstances.  When he was at play, he was lavish with his money; but he always lost:  and, when he was drunk, he had a quick temper, and didn’t spare the blows.  I must do him the justice to say, though, that his cigars were splendid.  But he was a ruffian; while the viscount here is a true child of wisdom.  He is severe upon our faults, it is true; but he is never harsh nor brutal to his servants.  Then he is uniformly generous; which in the long run pays us best.  I must say that he is better than the majority, and that the count is very unreasonable.”