With his lively eye and ready ear listening to everything and noting it, gliding everywhere with his ferret-like air, Massot was not there in the capacity of a gallery man, but had simply scented a stormy debate, and come to see if he could not pick up material for some occasional "copy." And this priest lost in the midst of the throng doubtless interested him.
"Have a little patience, Monsieur l'Abbe," said he, with the amiable gaiety of a young gentleman who makes fun of everything.

"The governor will certainly come, for he knows well enough that they are going to heat the oven here.

You are not one of his constituents from La Correze, are you ?" "No, no! I belong to Paris; I've come on account of a poor fellow whom I wish to get admitted into the Asylum of the Invalids of Labour." "Oh! all right.

Well, I'm a child of Paris, too." Then Massot laughed.

And indeed he was a child of Paris, son of a chemist of the St.Denis district, and an ex-dunce of the Lycee Charlemagne, where he had not even finished his studies.