daughter’s love for Edouard Murville, she made haste to seek information concerning the young man’s moral character, and concerning his family.

She found that he was born of well-to-do parents; that his father had followed the profession of the law with honor, but that several successive failures had reduced the family to the strict necessaries of life. Edouard and Jacques were Monsieur Murville’s only children. Jacques was a year younger than Edouard; but Madame Murville had not divided her affections equally between her two sons. Edouard was the favorite. A circumstance, apparently most trivial, had influenced Madame Murville’s sentiments; she had little intellect and a great deal of vanity; so that she was certain to set great store by all the petty, puerile things which are of such great weight in society. When she first became enceinte, she put her mind on the rack, to think what name she should give to her child. Her desire was to find a name which should be at once graceful, pleasant to the ear and distinguished; after long discussions and profound reflections, she decided upon Edouard for a boy, or Célénie for a girl, Monsieur Murville having left her entirely free to decide that question.

The first-born was a boy, and he received the name of Edouard, with all his mother’s affection. When she became enceinte again, she did not doubt for an instant that she should bring into the world a pretty little Célénie; the birth of a daughter would have filled her cup to overflowing. But after long suffering, she brought into the world a bouncing boy.

It will be understood that this one was not so warmly received as the first. Moreover, they had not had the slightest expectation of a boy, and they had not decided what name he should bear. But this time any previous deliberation upon that subject would have been wasted, for Monsieur Murville informed his wife that a friend of his desired to be his son’s godfather. This friend was very rich and they were under some obligation to him, so that they could not refuse him as godfather. So he held the child at the altar, and to the great scandal of Madame Murville, gave him the name of Jacques.

In truth, although Jacques is as good a name as another, it is not very melodious, and it offended the delicate ear of Madame Murville, who maintained that it was a name fit for a footman, a Savoyard, a messenger, and that it was a shame to call her son by it. In vain did her husband try to make her listen to reason, and recite to her again and again the history of Scotland, where the throne had been occupied by many Jacqueses. Madame Murville could never pronounce that name without a sigh.

However, there was no way to change it, for the godfather, who was naturally called Jacques also, and who came often to see his godson, would have been deeply offended to hear him called by any other name.

So the little fellow remained Jacques, to the great distress of Madame Murville. As for Edouard, whether from a spirit of mischief on his part, or because the name pleased him, he called Brother Jacques every moment during the day; and when he had done anything naughty, he always shifted it to Brother Jacques’s shoulders.

The two brothers were entirely different in disposition; Edouard placid, well-behaved, obliging, was glad to pass his day by his mother’s side; Jacques, noisy, boisterous, quick-tempered, could not keep still, and never went anywhere without turning everything upside down.

Edouard learned readily what was told him; Jacques would throw his books and pens into the fire, and make a hoop or a wooden sword.

Finally, at sixteen, Edouard went into company with his parents; he had already learned to listen to conversation and to smile pleasantly at a pretty woman. At fifteen, Jacques left his parents’ roof, and disappeared, leaving no letter behind, nothing to indicate his plans, or the purpose of his departure. They made all possible investigation and search; they put his description in the newspapers, but they never learned what had become of him; they waited for news of him, but none ever came.

Monsieur Murville was deeply grieved at the flight of the hare-brained young man; even Madame Murville herself realized that she was a mother, and that a boy might be named Jacques and still be her son; she repented of her unjust prejudice, she reproached herself for it, but it was too late. The unfortunate name had had its effect; it had closed to Jacques his mother’s heart; it drew upon him the mockery of his brother; and perhaps all these causes combined had driven the young man from the home of his parents. Who knows? There is so much tossing to and fro in life!

“I caught the measles recently,” said a young man to me yesterday, “because a man who makes shoes for a young lady friend of mine broke his spectacles.”

“What connection is there?” said I, “between your measles and a shoemaker’s spectacles?”

“It was like this, my dear fellow; the lady in question had given me her word to sing with me that evening at the house of one of our acquaintances. But she expected some pretty cherry slippers in the morning, to wear with a dress of that color; the shoemaker in question had broken his spectacles on the day that he took her measure, so that he brought her some slippers, which, though they were lovely, were too small. However, she could not resist the desire to try them on; they hurt a great deal, but the shoemaker assured her that they would be all right after she had worn them a while. Ladies think a great deal about having a small foot. She limped a little when she left the house; when she was on the boulevard, in the presence of some of her acquaintances, she did not wish to seem to be limping, so she exerted herself to walk lightly; but the foot became inflamed and swollen; she suffered horribly, and was obliged to return home. There she threw the infernal slippers aside, and examined her feet; they were raw and swollen, and she could not hope to go out for a week. I, knowing nothing about this, went to our rendezvous, expecting to employ my evening singing. I did not find the lady; the mistress of the house was alone; she is very agreeable, but she is forty years old. The time dragged terribly, I became impatient, and after waiting for an hour, I went out, having no idea where I should go. I passed a theatre, went in mechanically, and solely to kill time, for I knew the plays by heart. I saw a pretty face, and instinctively took a seat beside it; I said a few words and she answered; she seemed fond of talking, and I was very glad to find an opportunity to amuse myself. At last the play came to an end and I offered my pretty talker my arm. After some slight parley she accepted; I escorted my fair conquest to her home and did not leave her until I had obtained permission to call upon her. I did not fail to do so the next day. In a word, I soon became an intimate friend, and in one of my visits I caught the measles, which the lady had, unknown to me. So you see, if the shoemaker hadn’t broken his spectacles, it wouldn’t have happened.”

My young friend was right: the most important events are often caused by the most simple distractions, the most trivial circumstances. As for my hero, there is no doubt that his baptismal name exerted an influence over his whole destiny. How many men have owed to the splendors of a famous name, which their ancestors have transmitted to them, a degree of consideration which would never have been accorded their individuality! Happy is the man who is able to make his own name famous, and to transmit it to posterity with glory. But happier perhaps is he who lives unknown, and whose name will never arouse hatred or envy!

Now you know the Murville family; it remains for me to tell you of the death of Edouard’s father and mother, who followed each other to the tomb after a short interval, carrying with them their regret as to the fate of their son Jacques; and they