"Joyeuse, you have allowed yourself to criticise in the office our last
operations in the Tunis market. Useless to defend yourself. Your remarks
have been reported to me word for word. And as I am unable to admit them
from the mouth of one in my service, I give you notice that dating from
the end of this month you cease to be a member of my establishment."

A wave of blood mounted to the accountant's face, fell back, returned
again, bringing each time a confused whizzing into his ears, into his
brain a tumult of thoughts and images.

His daughters!

What was to become of them?

Employment is so hard to find at that period of the year.

Poverty appeared before his eyes and also the vision of an unfortunate
man falling at Hemerlingue's feet, supplicating him, threatening him,
springing at his throat in an access of despairing rage. All this
agitation passed over his features like a gust of wind which throws the
surface of a lake into ripples, fashioning there all manner of mobile
whirlpools; but he remained mute, standing in the same place, and upon
the master's intimation that he could withdraw, went down with tottering
step to resume his work in the counting-house.

In the evening when he went home to the Rue Saint-Ferdinand, M. Joyeuse
told his daughters nothing. He did not dare. The idea of darkening that
radiant gaiety which was the life of the house, of making dull with
heavy tears those pretty bright eyes, was insupportable to him.
Timorous, too, and weak, he was of those who always say, "Let us wait