“No, sir; on the contrary, I have been assured that he is remarkably robust.”
“Remarkably,” repeated Labassandre, coming forward, and, in reply to the astonished glance of the Director, proceeded to say that he left the manufactory six years before to join the opera in Paris.
“Ah, yes, I remember,” answered the Director, coldly enough, rising at the same time as if to indicate that the conversation was at an end. “Take away your apprentice, Rondic, and try and make a good workman of him. Under you he must turn out well.”
The opera-singer, vexed at having produced no effect, went away somewhat crestfallen. Rondic lingered and said a few words to his master, and then the two men and the child descended the stairs together, each with a different impression. Jack thought of the words “he does not look very strong,” while Labassandre digested his own mortification as he best might. “Has anything gone wrong?” he suddenly asked his brother,—“the Director seems even more surly now than in my day.”
“No; he spoke to me of Chariot, our poor sister’s son, who is giving us a great deal of trouble.”
“In what way?” asked the artist.
“Since his mother’s death he drinks and gambles, and has contracted debts. He is a wonderful draughtsman, and has high wages, but spends them before he has them. He has promised us all to reform, but he breaks his promises as fast as he makes them. I have paid his debts for him several times, but I can never do it again. I have my own family, you see, and Zénaïde is growing up, and she must be established. Poor girl! Women have more sense than we. I wanted her to marry her cousin, but she would not consent. Now we are trying to separate him from his bad acquaintances here, and the Director has found a situation at Nantes; but I dare say the obstinate fellow will object. You will reason with him to-night, can’t you? He will, perhaps, listen to you.”
“I will see what I can do,” answered Labassandre, pompously.
As they talked they reached the main street, crowded at this hour with all classes of people, some in mechanics’ blouses, others wearing coats. Jack was struck with the contrast presented by a crowd like this to one in Paris, composed of similar classes.
Labassandre was greeted with enthusiasm. The whisper went about that he received a hundred thousand francs per year for merely singing. His theatrical costume won universal admiration, and his bland smile shone first on one side and then on the other, as he nodded patronizingly to first one and then another of his old friends.