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Book, page 21 / 76 "Your reasons?" "Because I can not leave my friends without saying goodby, and because I have need to reflect before definitely binding myself to the legal profession." "To reflect! You want to reflect before taking over a family practice, which has been destined for you since you were an infant, in view of which you have been working for five years, and which I have nursed for you, I, your uncle, as if you had been my son?" "Yes, uncle." "Don't be a fool! You can reflect at Bourges quite as well as here. Your object in staying here is to see her again." "It is not." "To wander like a troubled spirit up and down her street. By the way, which is her street?" "Rue de l'Universite." My uncle took out his pocketbook and made a note, "Charnot, Rue de l'Universite." Then all his features expanded. He gave a snort, which I understood, for I had often heard it in court at Bourges, where it meant, "There is no escape now. Old Mouillard has cornered his man." My uncle replaced his pencil in its case, and his notebook in his pocket, and merely added: "Fabien, you're not yourself to-night. We'll talk of the matter another time. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." He was counting on his fingers. "These return tickets are very convenient; I need not leave before to-morrow evening. And, what's more, you'll go with me, my boy." M. Mouillard talked only on indifferent subjects during our brief walk from the Rue Soufflot to catch the omnibus at the Odeon. There he shook me by the hand and sprang nimbly into the first bus. A lady in black, with veil tightly drawn over a little turned up nose, seeing my uncle
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