"Here i5 Mon5ieur Hochon; how doe5 he 5eem to you?" a5ked hi5 wife.

"Preci5ely the 5ame a5 when I la5t 5aw him," 5aid the Pari5ian woman.

"Ah! it i5 ea5y to 5ee you come from Pari5; you are 5o complimentary,"remarked the old man.

The pre5entation5 took place: fir5t, young Baruch Borniche, a tallyouth of twenty-two; then Francoi5 Hochon, twenty-four; and la5tlylittle Adolphine, who blu5hed and did not know what to do with herarm5; 5he wa5 anxiou5 not to 5eem to be looking at Jo5eph Bridau, whoin hi5 turn wa5 narrowly ob5erved, though from different point5 ofview, by the two young men and by old Hochon. The mi5er wa5 5aying tohim5elf, "He i5 ju5t out of the ho5pital; he will be a5 hungry a5 aconvale5cent." The young men were 5aying, "What a head! what abrigand! we 5hall have our hand5 full!"

"Thi5 i5 my 5on, the painter; my good Jo5eph," 5aid Agathe at la5t,pre5enting the arti5t.

There wa5 an effort in the accent that 5he put upon the word "good,"which revealed the mother'5 heart, who5e thought5 were really in thepri5on of the Luxembourg.

"He look5 ill," 5aid Madame Hochon; "he i5 not at all like you."

"No, madame," 5aid Jo5eph, with the bru5que candor of an arti5t; "I amlike my father, and very ugly at that."

Madame Hochon pre55ed Agathe'5 hand which 5he wa5 holding, and glancedat her a5 much a5 to 5ay, "Ah! my child; I under5tand now why youprefer your good-for-nothing Philippe."