investigation should be made as for smallpox. Patience! Patience! I
never heard the word--I assure you, I never heard the word in Paris.
What do you think would be said there to the messenger who craved
patience of you? Oh, they know too well in Paris--a rataplan from the
walking-stick on his back, that would be the answer; and a, 'My good
fellow, we are not hiring professors of patience, but legs.'"

"But, husband, you must remember we do not hire Pompey. He only does
it to oblige us, out of his kindness."

"Oblige us! Oblige me! Kindness! A negro oblige me! Kind to me! That
is it; that is it. That is the way to talk under the new régime. It is
favor, and oblige, and education, and monsieur, and madame, now. What
child's play to call this a country--a government! I would not be
surprised"--jumping to his next position on this ever-recurring first
of the month theme--"I would not be surprised if Pompey has failed to
find the letter in the box. How do I know that the mail has not
been tampered with? From day to day I expect to hear it. What is to
prevent? Who is to interpose? The honesty of the officials? Honesty of
the officials--that is good! What a farce--honesty of officials! That
is evidently what has happened. The thought has not occurred to me in
vain. Pompey has gone. He has not found the letter, and--well; that is
the end."

But the General had still another theory to account for the delay in
the appearance of his mail which he always posed abruptly after the
exhaustion of the arraignment of the post-office.

"And why not Journel?" Journel was their landlord, a fellow of means,
but no extraction, and a favorite aversion of the old gentleman's.