“Quite so.”
“We will put our Fabien into one of those nests, where he will be protected against idleness by the little he will do, and against revolutions by the little he will be. It’s a charming profession; the very smell of books is improving; merely by breathing it you live an intellectual life.”
“An intellectual life!” exclaimed my uncle with enthusiasm. “Yes, an intellectual life!”
“And cataloguing books, Monsieur Mouillard, looking through them, preserving them as far as possible from worms and readers. Don’t you think that’s an enviable lot?”
“Yes, more so than mine has been, or my successor’s will be.”
“By the way, uncle, you haven’t told us who your successor is to be.”
“Haven’t I, really? Why, you know him; it’s your friend Larive.”
“Oh! That explains a great deal.”
“He is a young man who takes life seriously.”
“Very seriously, uncle. Isn’t he about to be married?”