others," she added, catching herself up, "you are one of the most
fortunate fathers I have ever known. Under your virtuous son-in-law
and your amiable daughter, the Cocon d'Or continues to be the greatest
establishment of its kind in Paris. And here's your eldest son, for
the last ten years at the head of a fine practice and married to
wealth. And you have such charming little granddaughters! You are, as
it were, the head of four great families. Leave us, Oscar; go and look
at the garden, but don't touch the flowers."

"Why, he's eighteen years old!" said uncle Cardot, smiling at this
injunction, which made an infant of Oscar.

"Alas, yes, he is eighteen, my good Monsieur Cardot; and after
bringing him so far, sound and healthy in mind and body, neither
bow-legged nor crooked, after sacrificing everything to give him an
education, it would be hard if I could not see him on the road to
fortune."

"That Monsieur Moreau who got him the scholarship will be sure to look
after his career," said uncle Cardot, concealing his hypocrisy under
an air of friendly good-humor.

"Monsieur Moreau may die," she said. "And besides, he has quarrelled
irrevocably with the Comte de Serizy, his patron."

"The deuce he has! Listen, madame; I see you are about to--"

"No, monsieur," said Oscar's mother, interrupting the old man, who,
out of courtesy to the "fair lady," repressed his annoyance at being
interrupted. "Alas, you do not know the miseries of a mother who, for