But when he didn't know where to
find a crust he remembered us; he sought us out, and found us.
Once I lent him a hundred sous; the next day he came for forty
more, and the next for three francs; then for five francs again.
And so it was every day: 'Give me this, or give me that!' At last
I said, 'Enough of this, the bank's closed!' Then, what do you
think he did? He watched the house until he saw me go out; then he
came in with a second-hand furniture-dealer, and tried to sell
everything, pretending that he was the master. And my poor, dear
mother would have allowed him to do it. Fortunately, I happened
to come in again. Let him sell my furniture? Not I. I would
sooner have been chopped in pieces! I went and complained to the
commissary of police, who made my father leave the house, and
since then we've lived in peace."
Certainly this was more than sufficient to explain and excuse
Victor Chupin's indignation. And yet he had prudently withheld
the most serious and important cause of his dislike. What he
refrained from telling was that years before, when he was still a
mere child, without will or discernment, his father had taken him
from his mother, and had started him down that terrible descent,
which inevitably leads one to prison or the gallows, unless there
be an almost miraculous interposition on one's behalf. This
miracle had occurred in Chupin's case; but he did not boast of it.
"Come, come!" said M.
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