"Upon my word, monseigneur," said Murphy, "it is, perhaps, fortunate that the Chourineur returns to us, his services may be useful."
"You are right; and now I am impatient to see my brave preserver arrive in Paris, for I never can forget that I owe my life to him."
CHAPTER III.
THE CLERK'S OFFICE.
Several days had elapsed since Jacques Ferrand had taken Cecily into his service. We will conduct the reader (who already knows the place) into the notary's office, whilst his clerks are at breakfast. Unheard of, extravagant, wonderful thing! Instead of the meagre and repulsive broth brought each morning to these young men by the late Madame Séraphin, an enormous cold roast turkey, placed in a large box, was enthroned in the centre of one of the office-tables, flanked by two new loaves, a Dutch cheese, and three bottles of wine; an ancient leaden inkstand served to hold a mixture of pepper and salt. Each clerk, provided with a knife and a strong appetite, awaited the arrival of the head clerk with hungry impatience, without whom they could not, without a breach of etiquette, begin to breakfast. A revolution so radical in Jacques Ferrand's office bespoke some extraordinary domestic mutation. The following conversation may throw some light on this phenomenon:
"Here is a turkey who did not expect when he was ushered into life ever to appear on the breakfast-table of our governor's clerks."
"No more than the governor, when he was ushered into the life of a notary, expected to give his clerks a turkey for breakfast."
"But, at least, the turkey is ours!" said the junior fag of the office, with a greedy grin.