offices.

The merchant remained standing, his hand resting on the greasy arm of
a large cane chair lined with morocco, of which the original hue had
disappeared; he seemed to hesitate as to seating himself. He looked
with affection at the double desk, where his wife's seat, opposite his
own, was fitted into a little niche in the wall. He contemplated the
numbered boxes, the files, the implements, the cash box--objects all
of immemorial origin, and fancied himself in the room with the shade
of Master Chevrel. He even pulled out the high stool on which he had
once sat in the presence of his departed master. This stool, covered
with black leather, the horse-hair showing at every corner--as it had
long done, without, however, coming out--he placed with a shaking hand
on the very spot where his predecessor had put it, and then, with an
emotion difficult to describe, he pulled a bell, which rang at the
head of Joseph Lebas' bed. When this decisive blow had been struck,
the old man, for whom, no doubt, these reminiscences were too much,
took up three or four bills of exchange, and looked at them without
seeing them.

Suddenly Joseph Lebas stood before him.

"Sit down there," said Guillaume, pointing to the stool.

As the old master draper had never yet bid his assistant be seated in
his presence, Joseph Lebas was startled.

"What do you think of these notes?" asked Guillaume.

"They will never be paid."