Among the articles with which his truck was loaded, an easel occupied a conspicuous position.
"Sir! Sir!!" shrieked old Durance, pointing out the easel to his landlord, "it's a painter!" "I was sure he was an artist!" exclaimed the landlord in his turn, the hair of his wig standing up in affright, "a painter!! And you never inquired after this person," he continued to his porter, "you didn't know what he did!" "He gave me five francs _arrest_," answered the poor fellow, "how could I suspect--" "When you have finished," put in the stranger-- "Sir," replied Monsieur Bernard, mounting his spectacles with great decision, "since you have no furniture, you can't come in.

The law authorizes me to refuse a tenant who brings no security." "And my word, then ?" "Your word is not furniture, you must go somewhere else.

Durance will give you back your earnest money." "Oh dear!" exclaimed the porter, in consternation, "I've put it in the Savings' Bank." "But consider sir," objected the young man.

"I can't find another lodging in a moment! At least grant me hospitality for a day." "Go to a hotel!" replied Monsieur Bernard.

"By the way," added he, struck with a sudden idea, "if you like, I can let you a furnished room, the one you were to occupy, which has the furniture of my defaulting tenant in it.