checking a witty saying, he would scarify his two neighbors before a
dinner was half over. In spite of his skin-deep gayety, a secret
dissatisfaction with his social position could be detected in his
speech; he aspired to something better, but the fatal demon hiding in
his wit hindered him from acquiring the gravity which imposes on
fools. He lived on the second floor of a house in the rue de Ponthieu,
where he had three rooms delivered over to the untidiness of a
bachelor's establishment, in fact, a regular bivouac. He often talked
of leaving France and seeking his fortune in America. No wizard could
foretell the future of this young man in whom all talents were
incomplete; who was incapable of perseverance, intoxicated with
pleasure, and who acted on the belief that the world ended on the
morrow.

In the matter of dress Bixiou had the merit of never being ridiculous;
he was perhaps the only official of the ministry whose dress did not
lead outsiders to say, "That man is a government clerk!" He wore
elegant boots with black trousers strapped under them, a fancy
waistcoat, a becoming blue coat, collars that were the never-ending
gift of grisettes, one of Bandoni's hats, and a pair of dark-colored
kid gloves. His walk and bearing, cavalier and simple both, were not
without grace. He knew all this, and when des Lupeaulx summoned him
for a piece of impertinence said and done about Monsieur de la
Billardiere and threatened him with dismissal, Bixiou replied, "You
will take me back because my clothes do credit to the ministry"; and
des Lupeaulx, unable to keep from laughing, let the matter pass. The
most harmless of Bixiou's jokes perpetrated among the clerks was the
one he played off upon Godard, presenting him with a butterfly just
brought from China, which the worthy man keeps in his collection and
exhibits to this day, blissfully unconscious that it is only painted