"That's right—my good old grandfather loves to pull at his little pipe in his bed, do you not?"
"What shall I say, George? You turn me into a Pacha; aye, a Pacha!" answered the old man, while his grandson went for the pipe that lay on a table, filled it with tobacco, lighted it, and presented it to old father Morin. The old man was thereupon propped up well in his bed, and began to smoke his delicious pipe.
George sat down at the foot of the bed, and said:
"What do you propose to do to-day?"
"I shall take my little stroll on the boulevard, where, if the weather is good, I shall sit down for a while on a bench."
"Hem! Grandfather, I think you would better postpone your promenade. You must have noticed yesterday how large the crowds were that gathered at several places. They almost came to blows with the municipalists and city sergeants. It may be even worse to-day."
"I know it, my boy. Are you taking a hand in these tussles? I know full well how tempting it is to do so when one's rights are invaded. It is unworthy of the government to forbid the banquets. But I shall feel very uneasy on your score."
"You need not feel uneasy about me, grandfather. There is nothing to fear, as far as I am concerned. But take my advice. Do not go out to-day."
"Very well, my boy, I shall stay indoors. I shall entertain myself a little reading your books, and shall look at the passers-by from the window, smoking my pipe the while."
"Poor grandfather," observed George with a smile. "From our high floor you see hardly more than moving hats."