for our Felix?"

"My dear," replied Phellion, "the great men of antiquity, Brutus and
others, were never fathers when called upon to be citizens. The
bourgeoisie has, even more than the aristocracy whose place it has
been called upon to take, the obligations of the highest virtues.
Monsieur de Saint-Hilaire did not think of his lost arm in presence of
the dead Turenne. We must give proof of our worthiness; let us give it
at every state of the social hierarchy. Shall I instruct my family in
the highest civic principles only to ignore them myself at the moment
for applying them? No, my dear; weep, if you must, to-day, but
to-morrow you will respect me," he added, seeing tears in the eyes of
his starched better half.

These noble words were said on the sill of the door, above which was
written, "Aurea mediocritas."

"I ought to have put, 'et digna,'" added Phellion, pointing to the
tablet, "but those two words would imply self-praise."

"Father," said Marie-Theodore Phellion, the future engineer of "ponts
et chaussees," when the family were once more seated in the salon, "it
seems to me that there is nothing dishonorable in changing one's
determination about a choice which is of no real consequence to public
welfare."

"No consequence, my son!" cried Phellion. "Between ourselves I will
say, and Felix shares my opinion, Monsieur Thuillier is absolutely
without capacity; he knows nothing. Monsieur Horace Bianchon is an
able man; he will obtain a thousand things for our arrondissement, and