"And so from one thing to another the two drifted wrecks of the Empire
struck up an acquaintance. Little Croizeau was attached to the Empire
through his connection with Napoleon's sisters. He had been their
coach-builder, and had frequently dunned them for money; so he gave
out that he 'had had relations with the Imperial family.' Maxime, duly
informed by Antonia of the 'nice old man's' proposals (for so the aunt
called Croizeau), wished to see him. Cerizet's declaration of war had
so far taken effect that he of the yellow kid gloves was studying the
position of every piece, however insignificant, upon the board; and it
so happened that at the mention of that 'nice old man,' an ominous
tinkling sounded in his ears. One evening, therefore, Maxime seated
himself among the book-shelves in the dimly lighted back room,
reconnoitred the seven or eight customers through the chink between
the green curtains, and took the little coach-builder's measure. He
gauged the man's infatuation, and was very well satisfied to find that
the varnished doors of a tolerably sumptuous future were ready to turn
at a word from Antonia so soon as his own fancy had passed off.

"'And that other one yonder?' asked he, pointing out the stout
fine-looking elderly man with the Cross of the Legion of Honor. 'Who
is he?'

"'A retired custom-house officer.'

"'The cut of his countenance is not reassuring,' said Maxime,
beholding the Sieur Denisart.

"And indeed the old soldier held himself upright as a steeple. His
head was remarkable for the amount of powder and pomatum bestowed upon