have preferred the former's friendship and society), yet took both a
pleasure and a pride in his quaint old parchments and obscure
quarterings. So would I, perhaps, if things had gone differently with
me--for what true democrat, however intolerant of such weakness in
others, ever thinks lightly of his own personal claims to aristocratic
descent, shadowy as these may be!

He was fond of such proverbs and aphorisms as "noblesse oblige," "bon
sang ne sait mentir," "bon chien chasse de race," etc., and had even
invented a little aphorism of his own, to comfort him when he was extra
hard up, "bon gentilhomme n'a jamais honte de la misere." All of which
sayings, to do him justice, he reserved for home consumption
exclusively, and he would have been the first to laugh on hearing them
in the mouth of any one else.

Of his one great gift, the treasure in his throat, he thought absolutely
nothing at all.

"Ce que c'est que de nous!"

Gogo was coloring the quarterings of the Pasquier family--_la maison
de Pasquier_, as it was called--in a printed book (_Armorial General du
Maine et de l'Anjou_), according to the instructions that were given
underneath. He used one of Madame Liard's three-sou boxes, and the tints
left much to be desired.

We looked over his shoulder and read the picturesque old jargon, which
sounds even prettier and more comforting and more idiotic in French than
in English. It ran thus--