“Come, Oscar, thank Monsieur Moreau for his kindness; you stand there like a mummy. It is not every youth who blunders that is lucky enough to find friends to take an interest in him after being injured by him—”
“The best way to make matters up with me,” said Moreau, taking Oscar’s hand, “is to work steadily and behave well.”
Ten days after this Oscar was introduced by Monsieur Moreau to Maître Desroches, attorney, lately established in the Rue de Béthisy, in spacious rooms at the end of a narrow court, at a relatively low rent. Desroches, a young man of six-and-twenty, the son of poor parents, austerely brought up by an excessively severe father, had himself known what it was to be in Oscar’s position; he therefore took an interest in him, but only in the way of which he was himself capable, with all the hardness of his character. The manner of this tall, lean young lawyer, with a dull complexion, and his hair cut short all over his head, sharp in his speech, keen-eyed, and gloomy though hasty, terrified poor Oscar.
“We work day and night here,” said the lawyer from the depths of his chair, and from behind a long table, on which papers were piled in alps. “Monsieur Moreau, we will not kill him, but he will have to go our pace.—Monsieur Godeschal!” he called out.
Although it was Sunday, the head-clerk appeared with a pen in his hand.
“Monsieur Godeschal, this is the articled pupil of whom I spoke, and in whom Monsieur Moreau takes the greatest interest; he will dine with us, and sleep in the little attic next to your room. You must allow him exactly time enough to get to the law-schools and back, so that he has not five minutes to lose; see that he learns the Code, and does well at lecture; that is to say, give him law books to read up when he has done his school work. In short, he is to be under your immediate direction, and I will keep an eye on him. We want to turn him out what you are yourself—a capital head-clerk by the time he is ready to be sworn in as an attorney.—Go with Godeschal, my little friend; he will show you your room, and you can move into it.”
“You see Godeschal?” Desroches went on, addressing Moreau. “He is a youngster without a sou, like myself; he is Mariette’s brother, and she is saving for him, so that he may buy a connection ten years hence.—All my clerks are youngsters, who have nothing to depend on but their ten fingers to make their fortune. And my five clerks and I work like any dozen of other men. In ten years I shall have the finest practice in Paris. We take a passionate interest here in our business and our clients, and that is beginning to be known. I got Godeschal from my greater brother in law, Derville; with him he was second clerk, and only for a fortnight; but we had made friends in that huge office.
“I give Godeschal a thousand francs a year, with board and lodging. The fellow is worth it to me; he is indefatigable! I like that boy! He managed to live on six hundred francs a year, as I did when I was a clerk. What I absolutely insist on is stainless honesty, and the man who can practice it in poverty is a man. The slightest failing on that score, and a clerk of mine goes!”
“Come, the boy is in a good school,” said Moreau.
For two whole years Oscar lived in the Rue de Béthisy, in a den of the law; for if ever this old-fashioned term could be applied to a lawyer’s office, it was to this of Desroches. Under his minute and strict supervision, he was kept so rigidly to hours and to work, that his life in the heart of Paris was like that of a monk.
At five in the morning, in all weathers, Godeschal woke. He went down to the office with Oscar, to save a fire, and they always found the “chief” up and at work. Oscar did the errands and prepared his schoolwork—studies on an enormous scale. Godeschal, and often the chief himself, showed their pupil what authors to compare, and the difficulties to be met. Oscar never was allowed to pass from one chapter of the Code to the next till he had thoroughly mastered it, and had satisfied both Desroches and Godeschal, who put him through preliminary examinations, far longer and harder than those of the law schools.
On his return from the schools, where he did not spend much time, he resumed his seat in the office and worked again; sometimes he went into the Courts, and he was at the bidding of the merciless Godeschal till dinnertime. Dinner, which he shared with his masters, consisted of a large dish of meat, a dish of vegetables, and a salad; for dessert there was a bit of Gruyere cheese. After dinner, Godeschal and Oscar went back to the office, and worked there till the evening.
Once a month Oscar went to breakfast with his Uncle Cardot, and he spent the Sundays with his mother. Moreau from time to time, if he came to the office on business, would take the boy to dine at the Palais-Royal, and treat him to the play. Oscar had been so thoroughly snubbed by Godeschal and Desroches on the subject of his craving after fashion, that he had ceased to think about dress.
“A good clerk,” said Godeschal, “should have two black coats—one old and one new—black trousers, black
