rue du Roi-Dore in the Marais. He talked of his mamma, and dared not
raise his eyes to Madame Rabourdin, whose house appeared to him as
gorgeous as the Louvre. He was careful to show his gloves, well
cleaned with india-rubber, as little as he could. His poor mother had
put five francs in his pocket in case it became absolutely necessary
that he should play cards; but she enjoined him to take nothing, to
remain standing, and to be very careful not to knock over a lamp or
the bric-a-brac from an etagere. His dress was all of the strictest
black. His fair face, his eyes, of a fine shade of green with golden
reflections, were in keeping with a handsome head of auburn hair. The
poor lad looked furtively at Madame Rabourdin, whispering to himself,
"How beautiful!" and was likely to dream of that fairy when he went to
bed.

Rabourdin had noted a vocation for his work in the lad, and as he
himself took the whole service seriously, he felt a lively interest in
him. He guessed the poverty of his mother's home, kept together on a
widow's pension of seven hundred francs a year--for the education of
the son, who was just out of college, had absorbed all her savings. He
therefore treated the youth almost paternally; often endeavoured to
get him some fee from the Council, or paid it from his own pocket. He
overwhelmed Sebastien with work, trained him, and allowed him to do
the work of du Bruel's place, for which that vaudevillist, otherwise
known as Cursy, paid him three hundred francs out of his salary. In
the minds of Madame de la Roche and her son, Rabourdin was at once a
great man, a tyrant, and an angel. On him all the poor fellow's hopes
of getting an appointment depended, and the lad's devotion to his
chief was boundless. He dined once a fortnight in the rue Duphot; but
always at a family dinner, invited by Rabourdin himself; Madame asked
him to evening parties only when she wanted partners.