If I'm a botcher in life, it's cos I'm the same as others--no less," he says, straightening up.

And standing still more erect, he adds, "_Nor_ no more, neither!" When we are not chatting we read aloud.

There is a very fine library at the factory, selected by Madame Valentine Gozlan from works of an educational or moral kind, for the use of the staff.

Marie, whose imagination goes further afield than mine, and who has not my anxieties, directs the reading.

She opens a book and reads aloud while I take my ease, looking at the pastel portrait which hangs just opposite the window.