forgotten, matches used as tapers for a minute when something had to
be found, drawers or boxes half-turned out and left unfinished; in
short, all the confusion and vacancies resulting from plans for order
never carried out. The lawyer's private room, especially disordered by
this incessant rummage, bore witness to his unresting pace, the hurry
of a man overwhelmed with business, hunted by contradictory
necessities. The bookcase looked as if it had been sacked; there were
books scattered over everything, some piled up open, one on another,
others on the floor face downwards; registers of proceedings laid on
the floor in rows, lengthwise, in front of the shelves; and that floor
had not been polished for two years.

The tables and shelves were covered with ex votos, the offerings of
the grateful poor. On a pair of blue glass jars which ornamented the
chimney-shelf there were two glass balls, of which the core was made
up of many-colored fragments, giving them the appearance of some
singular natural product. Against the wall hung frames of artificial
flowers, and decorations in which Popinot's initials were surrounded
by hearts and everlasting flowers. Here were boxes of elaborate and
useless cabinet work; there letter-weights carved in the style of work
done by convicts in penal servitude. These masterpieces of patience,
enigmas of gratitude, and withered bouquets gave the lawyer's room the
appearance of a toyshop. The good man used these works of art as
hiding-places which he filled with bills, worn-out pens, and scraps of
paper. All these pathetic witnesses to his divine charity were thick
with dust, dingy, and faded.

Some birds, beautifully stuffed, but eaten by moth, perched in this
wilderness of trumpery, presided over by an Angora cat, Madame
Popinot's pet, restored to her no doubt with all the graces of life by