their uncle, "What cheek he has!"

"Though I make two sous by all his breakfasts," muttered Antoine, as
he heard Monsieur Dutocq close the office door, "I'd give them up to
get that man out of our division."

"Ah, Monsieur Sebastien, you are not the first here to-day," said
Antoine, a quarter of an hour later, to the supernumerary.

"Who is here?" asked the poor lad, turning pale.

"Monsieur Dutocq," answered Laurent.

Virgin natures have, beyond all others, the inexplicable gift of
second-sight, the reason of which lies perhaps in the purity of their
nervous systems, which are, as it were, brand-new. Sebastien had long
guessed Dutocq's hatred to his revered Rabourdin. So that when Laurent
uttered his name a dreadful presentiment took possession of the lad's
mind, and crying out, "I feared it!" he flew like an arrow into the
corridor.

"There is going to be a row in the division," said Antoine, shaking
his white head as he put on his livery. "It is very certain that
Monsieur le baron is off to his account. Yes, Madame Gruget, the
nurse, told me he couldn't live through the day. What a stir there'll
be! oh! won't there! Go along, you fellows, and see if the stoves are
drawing properly. Heavens and earth! our world is coming down about
our ears."

"That poor young one," said Laurent, "had a sort of sunstroke when he