his lessons in despair, and to console the lad promised him a holiday of
indefinite length. As an excuse for his own weakness he repeated that he
had not brought his brother to Paris to distress him. To see him grow up
in happiness became his chief desire. He quite worshipped the boy, was
charmed with his merry laughter, and felt infinite joy in seeing him
about him, healthy and vigorous, and without a care. Florent for his
part remained very slim and lean in his threadbare coat, and his face
began to turn yellow amidst all the drudgery and worry of teaching; but
Quenu grew up plump and merry, a little dense, indeed, and scarce able
to read or write, but endowed with high spirits which nothing could
ruffle, and which filled the big gloomy room in the Rue Royer Collard
with gaiety.

Years, meantime, passed by. Florent, who had inherited all his mother's
spirit of devotion, kept Quenu at home as though he were a big, idle
girl. He did not even suffer him to perform any petty domestic duties,
but always went to buy the provisions himself, and attended to the
cooking and other necessary matters. This kept him, he said, from
indulging in his own bad thoughts. He was given to gloominess, and
fancied that he was disposed to evil. When he returned home in the
evening, splashed with mud, and his head bowed by the annoyances to
which other people's children had subjected him, his heart melted
beneath the embrace of the sturdy lad whom he found spinning his top
on the tiled flooring of the big room. Quenu laughed at his brother's
clumsiness in making omelettes, and at the serious fashion in which he
prepared the soup-beef and vegetables. When the lamp was extinguished,
and Florent lay in bed, he sometimes gave way to feelings of sadness. He
longed to resume his legal studies, and strove to map out his duties in
such wise as to secure time to follow the programme of the faculty.
He succeeded in doing this, and was then perfectly happy. But a slight