Granoux muttered that he was a brigand, and Roudier would three or four times a week repeat to Felicite: "Your son is writing some fine articles.

Only yesterday he attacked our friend Vuillet with revolting scurrility." The whole room joined in the chorus, and Commander Sicardot spoke of boxing his son-in-law's ears, while Pierre flatly disowned him.

The poor mother hung her head, restraining her tears.

For an instant she felt an inclination to burst forth, to tell Roudier that her dear child, in spite of his faults, was worth more than he and all the others put together.

But she was tied down, and did not wish to compromise the position they had so laboriously attained.