his own age, a countrywoman, used to work, and well put together, as you
might say!"

"Mademoiselle Planus, my sister," to whose physical structure he alluded,
had a magnificent opportunity to exclaim, "Oh! the men, the men!" but
she was silent. It was a very delicate question, and perhaps, if Risler
had chosen in time, he might have been the only one.

Old Sigismond continued:

"And this is what we have come to. For three months the leading wall-
paper factory in Paris has been tied to the petticoats of that good-for-
nothing. You should see how the money flies. All day long I do nothing
but open my wicket to meet Monsieur Georges's calls. He always applies
to me, because at his banker's too much notice would be taken of it,
whereas in our office money comes and goes, comes in and goes out. But
look out for the inventory! We shall have some pretty figures to show at
the end of the year. The worst part of the whole business is that Risler
won't listen to anything. I have warned him several times: 'Look out,
Monsieur Georges is making a fool of himself for some woman.' He either
turns away with a shrug, or else he tells me that it is none of his
business and that Fromont Jeune is the master. Upon my word, one would
almost think--one would almost think--"

The cashier did not finish his sentence; but his silence was pregnant
with unspoken thoughts.

The old maid was appalled; but, like most women under such circumstances,
instead of seeking a remedy for the evil, she wandered off into a maze of
regrets, conjectures, and retrospective lamentations. What a misfortune