corner was the only one kept in order.

When Pascal, mounted on the chair, had found the package he was
looking for, one of the bulkiest of the envelopes, on which was
written the name "Saccard," he added to it the new document, and then
replaced the whole under its corresponding alphabetical letter. A
moment later he had forgotten the subject, and was complacently
straightening a pile of papers that were falling down. And when he at
last jumped down off the chair, he said:

"When you are arranging the press, Clotilde, don't touch the packages
at the top; do you hear?"

"Very well, master," she responded, for the third time, docilely.

He laughed again, with the gaiety that was natural to him.

"That is forbidden."

"I know it, master."

And he closed the press with a vigorous turn of the key, which he then
threw into a drawer of his writing table. The young girl was
sufficiently acquainted with his researches to keep his manuscripts in
some degree of order; and he gladly employed her as his secretary; he
made her copy his notes when some _confrere_ and friend, like Dr.
Ramond asked him to send him some document. But she was not a
_savante_; he simply forbade her to read what he deemed it useless
that she should know.