"Mother," said Joseph hastily, "you had better write to Desroches
about all this. As for me, I ask nothing more than what my uncle has
already given me."

After fully recognizing the great value of his thirty-nine pictures,
Joseph had carefully unnailed the canvases and fastened paper over
them, gumming it at the edges with ordinary glue; he then laid them
one above another in an enormous wooden box, which he sent to
Desroches by the carrier's waggon, proposing to write him a letter
about it by post. The precious freight had been sent off the night
before.

"You are satisfied with a pretty poor bargain," said Monsieur Hochon.

"I can easily get a hundred and fifty thousand francs for those
pictures," replied Joseph.

"Painter's nonsense!" exclaimed old Hochon, giving Joseph a peculiar
look.

"Mother," said Joseph, "I am going to write to Desroches and explain
to him the state of things here. If he advises you to remain, you had
better do so. As for your situation, we can always find you another
like it."

"My dear Joseph," said Madame Hochon, following him as he left the
table, "I don't know anything about your uncle's pictures, but they
ought to be good, judging by the places from which they came. If they
are worth only forty thousand francs,--a thousand francs apiece,--tell