all night: but above all, above all, of the chances of education for my 
   darlings. Nothing should give way to that?? nothing!" On this a long and 
   delightful conversation and calculation took place. Bunch produced his bills at 
   the Baroness de Smolensk's. The two gentlemen jotted up accounts, and made 
   calculations all through the evening. It was hard even for Mrs. Baynes to force 
   the figures into such a shape as to make them accord with the general's income; 
   but, driven away by one calculation after another, she returned again and again 
   to the charge, until she overcame the stubborn arithmetical difficulties, and 
   the pounds, shillings, and pence lay prostrate before her. They could save upon 
   this point; they could screw upon that; they must make a sacrifice to educate 
   the children. "Sarah Bunch and her girls go to Court, indeed! Why shouldn't mine 
   go?" she asked. On which her general said, "By George, Eliza, that's the point 
   you are thinking of." On which Eliza said, "No," and repeated "No" a score of 
   times, growing more angry as she uttered each denial. And she declared before 
   heaven she did not want to go to any Court. Had she not refused to be presented 
   at home, though Mrs. Colonel Flack went, because she did not choose to go to the 
   wicked expense of a train? And it was base of the general, base and mean of him 
   to say so. And there was a fine scene, as I am given to understand; not that I 
   was present at this family fight: but my informant was Mr. Firmin; and Mr. 
   Firmin had his information from a little person who, about this time, had got to 
   prattle out all the secrets of her young heart to him; who would have jumped off 
   the pier-head with her hand in his if he had said "Come;" without his hand if he 
   had said "Go:" a little person whose whole life had been changed??changed for a 
   month past ??changed in one minute, that minute when she saw Philip's fiery 
   whiskers and heard his great big voice saluting her father amongst the 
   commissioners on the quai before the custom-house. 
   Tours was, at any rate, a hundred and fifty miles farther off than Paris 
   from??from a city where a young gentleman lived in whom Miss Charlotte Baynes 
   felt an interest; hence, I suppose, arose her delight that her parents had 
   determined upon taking up their residence in the larger and nearer city. 
   Besides, she owned, in the course of her artless confidences to my wife, that, 
   when together, mamma and aunt MacWhirter quarrelled unceasingly; and had once 
   caused he old boys, the major and the general, to call each other out. She 
   preferred, then, to live away from aunt Mac. She had never had such a friend as 
   Laura, never. She had never been so happy as at Boulogne, never. She should 
   always love everybody in our house, that she should, for ever and ever??and so 
   forth, and so forth. The ladies meet; cling together; osculations are carried 
   round the whole family circle, from our wondering eldest boy, who cries, "I say, 
   hullo! what are you kissing me so about?" to darling baby, crowing and 
   sputtering unconscious in the rapturous young girl's embraces. I tell you, these 
   two women were making fools of themselves, and they were burning with enthusiasm 
   for the "preserver" of the Baynes family, as they called that big fellow yonder, 
   whose biographer I have aspired to be. The lazy rogue lay basking in the 
   glorious warmth and sunshine of early love. He would stretch his big limbs out 
   in our garden; pour out his feelings with endless volubility; call upon hominum 
   divumque voluptas, alma Venus; vow that he had never lived or been happy until 
   now; declare that he laughed poverty to scorn and all her ills; and fume against 
   his masters of the Pall Mall Gazette, because they declined to insert certain 
   love verses which Mr. Philip now composed almost every day. Poor little 
   Charlotte! And didst thou receive those treasures of song; and wonder over them, 
   not perhaps comprehending them altogether; and lock them up in they heart's 
   inmost casket as well as in thy little desk; and take them out in quiet hours, 
   and kiss them, and bless heaven for giving thee such jewels? I daresay. I can 
   fancy all this without seeing it. I can read the little letters in the little 
   desk, without picking lock or breaking seal. Poor little letters! Sometimes they 
   are not spelt right, quite; but I don't know that the style is worse for that. 
   Poor little letters! You are flung to the winds sometimes and forgotten with all 
   your sweet secrets and loving artless confessions; but not always?? no, not 
   always. As for Philip, who was the most careless creature alive, and left all 
   his clothes and haberdashery sprawling on his bed-room floor, he had at this 
   time a breast-pocket stuffed out with papers which crackled in the most 
   ridiculous way. He was always looking down at this precious pocket, and putting 
   one of his great hands over it as though he would guard it. The pocket did not 
   contain bank-notes, you may be sure of that. It contained documents stating that 
   mamma's cold is better; the Joneses came to tea, and Julia sang, Ah, friend, 
   however old you are now, however cold you are now, however tough, I hope you, 
   too, remember how Julia sang, and the Joneses came to tea. 
   Mr. Philip stayed on week after week, declaring to my wife that she was a 
   perfect angel for keeping him so long. Bunch wrote from his boarding-house more 
   and more enthusiastic reports about the comforts of the establishment. For his 
   sake, Madame la Baronne de Smolensk would make unheard-of sacrifices, in order 
   to accommodate the general and his distinguished party. The balls were going to 
   be perfectly splendid that winter. There were several old Indians living near; 
   in fact, they could form a regular little club. It was agreed that Baynes should 
   go and reconnoitre the ground. He did go. Madame de Smolensk, a most elegant 
   woman, had a magnificent dinner for him??quite splendid, I give you my word, but 
   only what they have every day. Soup, of course, my love; fish, capital wine, 
   and, I should say, some five or six and thirty made dishes. The general was 
   quite enraptured. Bunch had put his boys to a famous school, where they might 
   "whop" the French boys, and learn all the modern languages. The little ones 
   would dine early; the baroness would take the whole family at an astonishingly 
   cheap rate. In a word, the Baynes' column got the route for Paris shortly before 
   our family-party was crossing the seas to return to London fogs and duty. 
   You have, no doubt, remarked how, under certain tender circumstances, women will 
   help one another. They help where they ought not to help. When Mr. Darby ought 
   to be separated from Miss Joan, and the best thing that could happen for both 
   would be a lettre de cachet to whip off Mons. Darby to the Bastille for five 
   years, and an order from her parents to lock up Mademoiselle Jeanne in a 
   convent, some aunt, some relative, some pitying female friend is sure to be 
   found, who will give the pair a chance of meeting, and turn her head away whilst 
   those unhappy lovers are warbling endless good-byes close up to each other's 
   ears. My wife, I have said, chose to feel this absurd sympathy for the young 
   people about whom we have been  
					     					 			just talking. As the days for Charlotte's 
   departure drew near, this wretched, misguiding matron would take the girl out 
   walking into I know not what unfrequented bye-lanes, quiet streets, 
   rampart-nooks, and the like; and la! by the most singular coincidence, Mr. 
   Philip's hulking boots would assuredly come tramping after the women's little 
   feet. What will you say, when I tell you, that I myself, the father of the 
   family, the renter of the oldfashioned house, Rue Roucoule, Haute Ville, 
   Boulognesur-Mer??as I am going into my own study??am met at the threshold by 
   Helen, my eldest daughter, who puts her little arms before the glass-door at 
   which I was about to enter, and says, "You must not go in there, papa! Mamma 
   says we none of us are to go in there." 
   "And why, pray?" I ask. 
   "Because uncle Philip and Charlotte are talking secrets there; and nobody is to 
   disturb them??nobody!" 
   Upon my word, wasn't this too monstrous? Am I Sir Pandarus of Troy become? Am I 
   going to allow a penniless young man to steal away the heart of a young girl who 
   has not twopence half-penny to her fortune? Shall I, I say, lend myself to this 
   most unjustifiable intrigue? 
   "Sir," says my wife (we happened to have been bred up from childhood together, 
   and I own to have had one or two foolish initiatory flirtations before I settled 
   down to matrimonial fidelity)??"Sir," says she, "when you were so wild??so 
   spoony, I think is your elegant word??about Blanche, and used to put letters 
   into a hollow tree for her at home, I used to see the letters, and I never 
   disturbed them. These two people have much warmer hearts, and are a great deal 
   fonder of each other, than you and Blanche used to be. I should not like to 
   separate Charlotte from Philip now. It is too late, sir. She can never like 
   anybody else as she likes him. If she lives to be a hundred, she will never 
   forget him. Why should not the poor thing be happy a little, while she may?" 
   An old house, with a green old courtyard and an ancient mossy wall, through 
   breaks of which I can see the roofs and gables of the quaint old town, the city 
   below, the shining sea, and the white English cliffs beyond; a green old 
   courtyard, and a tall old stone house rising up in it, grown over with many a 
   creeper on which the sun casts flickering shadows; and under the shadows, and 
   through the glass of a tall grey window, I can just peep into a brown twilight 
   parlour, and there I see two hazy figures by a table. One slim figure has brown 
   hair, and one has flame-coloured whiskers. Look! a ray of sunshine has just 
   peered into the room, and is lighting the whiskers up! 
   "Poor little thing," whispers my wife, very gently. "They are going away 
   to-morrow. Let them have their talk out. She is crying her little eyes out, I am 
   sure. Poor little Charlotte!" 
   Whilst my wife was pitying Miss Charlotte in this pathetic way, and was going, I 
   daresay, to have recourse to her own pocket-handkerchief, as I live, there came 
   a burst of laughter from the darkling chamber where the two lovers were billing 
   and cooing. First came Mr. Philip's great boom (such a roar??such a haw-haw, or 
   hee-haw, I never heard any other two-legged animal perform). Then follows Miss 
   Charlotte's tinkling peal; and presently that young person comes out into the 
   garden, with her round face not bedewed with tears at all, but perfectly rosy, 
   fresh, dimpled, and good-humoured. Charlotte gives me a little curtsey, and my 
   wife a hand and a kind glance. They retreat through the open casement, twining 
   round each other, as the vine does round the window; though which is the vine 
   and which is the window in this simile, I pretend not to say??I can't see 
   through either of them, that is the truth. They pass through the parlour, and 
   into the street beyond, doubtless: and as for Mr. Philip, I presently see his 
   head popped out of his window in the upper floor with his great pipe in his 
   mouth. He can't "work" without his pipe, he says; and my wife believes him. 
   Work, indeed! 
   Miss Charlotte paid us another little visit that evening, when we happened to be 
   alone. The children were gone to bed. The darlings! Charlotte must go up and 
   kiss them. Mr. Philip Firmin was out. She did not seem to miss him in the least, 
   nor did she make a single inquiry for him. We had been so good to her??so kind. 
   How should she ever forget our great kindness? She had been so happy??oh! so 
   happy! She had never been so happy before. She would write often and often, and 
   Laura would write constantly??wouldn't she? "Yes, dear child!" says my wife. And 
   now a little more kissing, and it is time to go home to the Tintelleries. What a 
   lovely night! Indeed, the moon was blazing in full round in the purple heavens, 
   and the stars were twinkling by myriads. 
   "Good-by, dear Charlotte; happiness go with you!" I seize her hand. I feel a 
   paternal desire to kiss her fair, round face. Her sweetness, her happiness, her 
   artless good-humour, and gentleness have endeared her to us all. As for me, I 
   love her with a fatherly affection. "Stay, my dear!" I cry, with a happy 
   gallantry. "I'll go home with you to the Tintelleries." 
   You should have seen the fair round face then! Such a piteous expression came 
   over it! She looked at my wife; and as for that Mrs. Laura she pulled the tail 
   of my coat. 
   "What do you mean, my dear?" I ask. 
   "Don't go out on such a dreadful night. You'll catch cold!" says Laura. 
   "Cold, my love!" I say. "Why, it's as fine a night as ever??" 
   "Oh! you??you stoopid!" says Laura, and begins to laugh. And there goes Miss 
   Charlotte tripping away from us without a word more! 
   Philip came in about half an hour afterwards. And do you know, I very strongly 
   suspect that he had been waiting round the corner. Few things escape me, you 
   see, when I have a mind to be observant. And, certainly, if I had thought of 
   that possibility and that I might be spoiling sport, I should not have proposed 
   to Miss Charlotte to walk home with her. 
   At a very early hour on the next morning my wife arose, and spent, in my 
   opinion, a great deal of unprofitable time, bread, butter, cold beef, mustard 
   and salt, in compiling a heap of sandwiches, which were tied up in a copy of the 
   Pall Mall Gazette. That persistence in making sandwiches, in provding cakes and 
   other refreshments for a journey, is a strange infatuation in women; as if there 
   was not always enough to eat to be had at road inns and railway stations! What a 
   good dinner we used to have at Montreuil in the old days, before railways were, 
   and when the diligence spent four or six and twenty cheerful hours on its way to 
   Paris! I think the finest dishes are not to be compared to that well-remembered 
   fricandeau of youth, nor do wines of the most dainty vintage surpass the rough, 
   honest, blue ordinaire which was served at the plenteous inn-table. I took our 
   bale of sandwiches down to the office of the Messageries, whence our friends 
   were to start. We saw six of the Baynes family packed into the interior of the 
   diligence; and the boys climb cheerily into the rotonde. Charlotte's pretty lips 
   and han 
					     					 			ds wafted kisses to us from her corner. Mrs. General Baynes commanded the 
   column, pushed the little ones into their places in the ark, ordered the general 
   and young ones hither and thither with her parasol, declined to give the 
   grumbling porters any but the smallest gratuity, and talked a shrieking jargon 
   of French and Hindustanee to the people assembled round the carriage. My wife 
   has that command over me that she actually made me demean myself so far as to 
   deliver the sandwich parcel to one of the Baynes boys. I said, "Take this," and 
   the poor wretch held out his hand eagerly, evidently expecting that I was about 
   to tip him with a five-franc piece or some such coin. Fouette, cocher! The 
   horses squeal. The huge machine jingles over the road, and rattles down the 
   street. Farewell, pretty Charlotte, with your sweet face, and sweet voice, and 
   kind eyes! But why, pray, is Mr. Philip Firmin not here to say farewell too? 
   Before the diligence got under way, the Baynes boys had fought, and quarrelled, 
   and wanted to mount on the imperial or cabriolet of the carriage, where there 
   was only one passenger as yet. But the conductor called the lads off, saying 
   that the remaining place was engaged by a gentleman, whom they were to take up 
   on the road. And who should this turn out to be? Just outside the town a man 
   springs up to the imperial; his light luggage, it appears, was on the coach 
   already, and that luggage belonged to Philip Firmin. Ah, monsieur! and that was 
   the reason, was it, why they were so merry yesterday??the parting day? Because, 
   when they were not going to part just then. Because, when the time of execution 
   drew near, they had managed to smuggle a little reprieve! Upon my conscience, I 
   never heard of such imprudence in the whole course of my life! Why, it is 
   starvation??certain misery to one and the other. "I don't like to meddle in 
   other people's affairs," I say to my wife; "but I have no patience with such 
   folly, or with myself for not speaking to General Baynes on the subject. I shall 
   write to the general." 
   "My dear, the general knows all about it," says Charlotte's, Philip's (in my 
   opinion) most injudicious friend. "We have talked about it, and, like a man of 
   sense, the general makes light of it. 'Young folks will be young folks,' he 
   says; 'and, by George! ma'am, when I married??I should say, when Mrs. B. ordered 
   me to marry her??she had nothing, and I but my captain's pay. People get on, 
   somehow. Better for a young man to marry, and keep out of idleness and mischief; 
   and, I promise you, the chap who marries my girl gets a treasure. I like the boy 
   for the sake of my old friend Phil Ringwood. I don't see that the fellows with 
   the rich wives are much the happier, or that men should wait to marry until they 
   are gouty old rakes.' And, it appears, the general instanced several officers of 
   his own acquaintance; some of whom had married when they were young and poor; 
   some who had married when they were old and sulky; some who had never married at 
   all. And he mentioned his comrade, my own uncle, the late Major Pendennis, whom 
   he called a selfish old creature, and hinted that the major had jilted some lady 
   in early life, whom he would have done much better to marry." 
   And so Philip is actually gone after his charmer, and is pursuing her summ? 
   diligenti?? The Baynes family has allowed this penniless young law student to 
   make love to their daughter, to accompany them to Paris, to appear as the almost 
   recognized son of the house. "Other people, when they were young, wanted to make 
   imprudent marriages," says my wife (as if that wretched tu quoque were any 
   answer to my remark!) "This penniless law student might have a good sum of money 
   if he choose to press the Baynes family to pay him what, after all, they owe 
   him." And so poor little Charlotte was to be her father's ransom! To be sure,