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A PORTRAIT FROM LIFE.
From the manner with which the Latournelles entered the Chalet a stranger would readily have guessed that they came there every evening.
"Ah, you are here already," said the notary, perceiving the young banker Gobenheim, a connection of Gobenheim-Keller, the head of the great banking house in Paris.
This young man with a livid face--a blonde of the type with black eyes, whose immovable glance has an indescribable fascination, sober in speech as in conduct, dressed in black, lean as a consumptive, but nevertheless vigorously framed--visited the family of his former master and the house of his cashier less from affection than from self-interest.

Here they played whist at two sous a point; a dress-coat was not required; he accepted no refreshment except "eau sucree," and consequently had no civilities to return.

This apparent devotion to the Mignon family allowed it to be supposed that Gobenheim had a heart; it also released him from the necessity of going into the society of Havre and incurring useless expenses, thus upsetting the orderly economy of his domestic life.

This disciple of the golden calf went to bed at half-past ten o'clock and got up at five in the morning.