stretching out his hand, "was enthusiastic? He is, furthermore, a
clever boy, who might have made something uncommon out of himself
as a lawyer, perhaps. But--"

"But, father dear, he will make a fine lawyer; he will have an
influence in the theatre that will be more direct, more beneficial,
more far-reaching, than at the Bar. Oh! but yes! You remember, don't
you, mama, how disturbed you were by M. Dubare's plea on behalf of the
assassin of Jeanne Verdier? Well, is it not noble to defend the poets,
and introduce to the public all the new scientific and political
ideas?"

"Often wrong ideas," remarked Darbois.

"That is perhaps true, but what of it? Have you not said a thousand
times that discussion is the necessary soil for the development of new
ideas?"

The professor of philosophy looked at his daughter, realizing that
every word he had spoken in her hearing, all the seed that he had cast
to the wind, had taken root in her young mind.

"But," inquired Madame Darbois, "where did you see M. Perliez?"

The professor began to smile. "Outside the Conservatoire. Perliez and
I ran into each other, both impelled by the same extreme anxiety
towards the scene of our sacrifice. It is not really necessary to
consult all the philosophical authorities on this subject of inanition
of will," he added, wearily.