green salon for their game of cards. The ministry of the interior,
though purged of its former _employes_ in 1816, had retained Claparon,
one of those cautious men, who whisper the news of the "Moniteur,"
adding invariably, "Don't quote me." Desroches, who had retired from
active service some time after old Du Bruel, was still battling for
his pension. The three friends, who were witnesses of Agathe's
distress, advised her to send the colonel to travel in foreign
countries.

"They talk about conspiracies, and your son, with his disposition,
will be certain to fall a victim in some of them; there is plenty of
treachery in these days."

"Philippe is cut from the wood the Emperor made into marshals," said
Du Bruel, in a low voice, looking cautiously about him; "and he
mustn't give up his profession. Let him serve in the East, in India--"

"Think of his health," said Agathe.

"Why doesn't he get some place, or business?" said old Desroches;
"there are plenty of private offices to be had. I am going as head of
a bureau in an insurance company, as soon as I have got my pension."

"Philippe is a soldier; he would not like to be any thing else," said
the warlike Agathe.

"Then he ought to have the sense to ask for employment--"

"And serve _these others_!" cried the widow. "Oh! I will never give
him that advice."