every Saturday, for many years, M. and Mme. Favoral receive a few
of their friends: M. and Mme. Desclavettes, retired dealers in
bronzes, Rue Turenne; M. Chapelain, the old lawyer from the Rue St.
Antoine, whose daughter is Mlle. Gilberte's particular friend; M.
Desormeaux, head clerk in the Department of Justice; and three or
four others; and as this just happens to be Saturday--"

But here he stopped short, and pointing towards the street:

"Quick," said he, "look! Speaking of the--you know--It is twenty
minutes past five, there is M. Favoral coming home."

It was, in fact, the cashier of the Mutual Credit Society, looking
very much indeed as the shop-keeper had described him. Walking with
his head down, he seemed to be seeking upon the pavement the very
spot upon which he had set his foot in the morning, that he might set
it back again there in the evening.

With the same methodical step, he reached his house, walked up the
two pairs of stairs, and, taking out his pass-key, opened the door
of his apartment.

The dwelling was fit for the man; and every thing from the very hall,
betrayed his peculiarities. There, evidently, every piece of
furniture must have its invariable place, every object its irrevocable
shelf or hook. All around were evidences, if not exactly of poverty,
at least of small means, and of the artifices of a respectable
economy. Cleanliness was carried to its utmost limits: every thing
shone. Not a detail but betrayed the industrious hand of the
housekeeper, struggling to defend her furniture against the ravages