Suddenly, in the midst of a powerful elucubration on the Wagnerian school, at the moment when thought was vanishing, dismayed, with no hope of returning to its true path, when sounds gradually gave way to noises whose musical value was no longer appreciable—suddenly a simple, melodic piece, of gentle character and perfectly apt feeling, began to sing beneath the pianist's fingers. This was the calm after the storm, the heart's true note after so much wailing and roaring.

"Ah!" Jacques smiled.

"My friends, " Quinsonnas resumed, "there is still one great unknown artist who alone epitomized the genius of all music. This piece dates from 1947, and it is the last sigh of expiring art. "

"And it's by... ?" Michel asked.

"It's by your father, who was my beloved master. "

"My father!" the young man exclaimed, nearly in tears.

"Yes. Listen. " And Quinsonnas, reproducing melodies which Beethoven or Weber would have been proud to sign, rose to the sublime heights of interpretation.

"My father!" Michel repeated.

"Yes!" Quinsonnas replied, closing his piano with contained fury. "After him, nothing! Who would understand his music now? Enough, my sons—enough of this return to the past! Let us remember the present, our present, when industrialism has come into its own, its empire, its triumph!" And with these words he touched the instrument, whereupon the keyboard folded up and in its place revealed a bed entirely made up, with a well-stocked night table attached to one side. "Now this, " he said, "is what our epoch was worthy of inventing! A piano-bed-dresser-commode!"

"And night table as well, " Jacques added.

"Just as you say, my dear fellow. That puts the lid on it!"

Chapter IX:     A Visit to Uncle Huguenin

Since that memorable evening, the three young men had become close friends; they constituted a little world of their own in the vast capital of France.

Michel spent his days on the Ledger, apparently resigned to his work, though his happiness was spoiled by not having time to visit Uncle Huguenin, with whom he would have felt in the bosom of a veritable family, having his uncle for father and his two friends for elder brothers. He wrote frequently to the old librarian, who replied almost as often.

Four months passed in this fashion; Michel evidently gave satisfaction in the offices; his cousin treated him a little less scornfully; Quinsonnas praised him to the skies. The young man had apparently found his way—he was born to dictate.

Winter passed, stoves and gas heaters mustered to combat it with success. And spring arrived. Michel obtained a whole day's freedom, a Sunday, and resolved to spend it with Uncle Huguenin. At eight in the morning he gaily left the bank building, delighted to breathe more oxygen away from the central business district. The weather was splendid. April was awakening and preparing its new flowers, with which the florists waged advantageous combat; Michel felt very much alive.

His uncle lived far away, having had to transport his Penates where it did not cost too much to shelter them. Young Dufrénoy proceeded to the Madeleine station, took his ticket, and hoisted himself onto an upper-level seat; the signal for departure sounded, and the train moved up the Boulevard Malesherbes, soon leaving on its right the heavily ornamented church of Saint-Augustin and on its left the Parc Monceau, surrounded by splendid edifices; it crossed the two Metropolitan rings and stopped at the Porte d'Asniéres station, near the old fortifications. The first part of the journey was over: Michel leaped down and followed the Rue d'Asniéres as far as the Rue de la Révolte, turned left, passing under the Versailles Railway, and finally reached the corner of the Rue du Caillou. Here stood an apartment house of modest appearance, high and densely inhabited; he asked the concierge for Monsieur Huguenin.

"Ninth floor, first door to your right, " responded this important personage, a government employee directly appointed to this confidential position. Michel thanked him, took his place in the elevator, and in a few seconds was standing on the ninth-floor landing. He rang. Monsieur Huguenin himself came to the door.

"Uncle!" exclaimed Michel.

"My dear boy!" the old man replied, throwing wide his arms. "Here you are at last. "

"Yes, Uncle, and my first free day is for you!"

"Thank you, my boy, " replied Monsieur Huguenin, leading the young man into his apartment. "What a pleasure to see you! But sit down, let me have your hat, make yourself comfortable—you'll stay awhile, won't you?"

"All day, Uncle, if it's no trouble for you. "

"Trouble! My dear boy, I've been waiting for you all this time!"

"Waiting! But I really haven't had time to let you know in advance—I'd have got here before my letter. "

"I expected you each Sunday, Michel, and your place has always been set at the table, as it is now. "

"Can this be possible?"

"I knew perfectly well you'd be coming to see your uncle one day or another. Till now, it's always been another.