hand, his elbow resting on a table, looking abstractedly into space. In
a corner of the room two small children were playing languidly with a set
of bone tablets, inscribed with the letters of the alphabet. But
whatever the children were doing with the alphabet, they were certainly
not learning to read from it.

The room was of fair size and height, and by no means barely or shabbily
furnished. There was a pretty clock on the mantelpiece. On the wall
were hung designs for the decoration of apartments, and shelves on which
were ranged a few books.

The window was open, and on the sill were placed flowerpots; you could
scent the odour they wafted into the room. Altogether it was an
apartment suited to a skilled artisan earning high wages. From the room
we are now in, branched on one side a small but commodious kitchen; on
the other side, on which the door was screened by a portiere, with a
border prettily worked by female hands--some years ago, for it was faded
now--was a bedroom, communicating with one of less size in which the
children slept. We do not enter those additional rooms, but it may be
well here to mention them as indications of the comfortable state of an
intelligent skilled artisan of Paris, who thinks he can better that state
by some revolution which may ruin his employer.

Monnier started up at the entrance of Lebeau, and his face showed that he
did not share the dislike to the visit which that of the female partner
of his life had evinced. On the contrary, his smile was cordial, and
there was a hearty ring in the voice which cried out--

"I am glad to see you--something to do? Eh!"