"I have no doubt of it, my poor Louis," said Saint-Herem sympathizingly, "for to place yourself in the clutches of such a rascal as Porquin, is to sell yourself to the devil! But tell me what has happened? You have always been good and industrious, I know, but you may have contracted some debt or committed some slight folly. What may seem enormous to you, may be only a trifle to me. I shall receive two hundred louis from this Arab to-night; you have but to say the word and they are yours. I can turn to someone else! Two hundred louis ought to cover the debts of a notary clerk---come, must you have more? Then we shall raise more; but in heaven's name don't put yourself in the toils of this scoundrel!"

This generous offer filled Louis' heart with such sweet consolation that for the moment he forgot his sorrows.

"My dear Florestan," he said gratefully, "you cannot imagine how this proof of friendship on your part comforts and consoles me."

"You accept, then?"

"No."

"What?"

"I have no need of your good services. This usurer, who was a total stranger to me, wrote to me requesting an interview; and he offers to lend me more money in one year than I have spent in all my life."

"He offers you that! Why, the rascal never advances a sou without the best securities. People of his stamp consider neither honor, probity, nor industry; and I was not aware that you had expectations."

"You are mistaken, Florestan; my father is worth over two millions."

"Your father!" exclaimed Saint-Herem in amazement. "Your father rich!"

"This usurer discovered his secret; how, I cannot say."

"And so he offered his services. Well, you may be sure his information is correct, for he advances nothing on doubtful security."

"I believe it," rejoined Louis sadly.

"My dear Louis, one might think you had made some unfortunate discovery. What is it? Are you unhappy?--and why, pray?"

"Ah! my friend, don't scoff at me. I love, and have been deceived."

"You have a rival?"

"And that rival is this wretch!"

"Porquin?--nonsense; what makes you imagine such an absurdity?"

"I had some suspicions, and then he a.s.sured me he had been accepted."

"A fine authority, upon my word! He lies, I am sure of it."

"He is rich, Florestan; and the woman I loved and still love in spite of myself, is poor. She has endured the most cruel misery for years."

"The devil!"

"Besides this, she is the only support of a crippled old woman. This man's offers dazzled the poor child; and like so many others, she succ.u.mbed through misery. What good is a fortune now, when my only desire was to share it with Mariette?"

"My dear Louis, I know you too well to believe you could have loved a woman unworthy of your affections."

"For a whole year Mariette gave me abundant proofs of a sincere affection; then yesterday, without warning, a letter came announcing the sudden rupture--"

"A woman who loved a poor man like you for a whole year, does not yield to an old rascal like Porquin in one day. I tell you he lies!" And to Louis' great astonishment, Saint-Herem called aloud, "Hi, there! de la Miraudiere!"

"Florestan! what are you doing?" remonstrated Louis, as the usurer appeared.

"Monsieur de La Miraudiere," observed Saint-Herem, with his habitual supercilious air, "there seems to exist some slight confusion in your mind in regard to a respectable young girl, who, according to you, has been seduced by your wit, your personal charms and excellent manners, still more enchanced by that gold which you so honorably grasp. Now, my worthy commander, will you do me the pleasure to speak the truth?

If not, I shall know how to deal with you."

"I deeply regret having jested on a subject which seems to annoy M.

Richard," responded Porquin, deeming it better policy to sacrifice a fancy which stood little chance of being gratified, than to run the risk of losing so promising a client as Louis.

"You may perhaps be able to explain how the idea of this jest--which, by the way, I should call a base calumny--entered your head?" pursued Florestan.

"Nothing more simple, monsieur: I saw Mademoiselle Mariette Moreau in the workshop, and was struck with her beauty. I then procured her address, visited her home, where I found her G.o.dmother, and proposed--"

"Enough, sir! enough!" cried Louis indignantly.

"Permit me to add, my dear client," resumed Porquin, imperturbably, "that the said G.o.dmother refused my offers point-blank, and that Mademoiselle Mariette indignantly showed me the door. As you see, I am perfectly frank, and hope this sincere avowal will win me the confidence of M. Richard, who will not fail to accept my services. As for you, Monsieur de Saint-Herem, I have examined your securities and will place the two hundred _louis_ in your hands this evening--and now that you have learned the conditions I have proposed to your friend, I am sure you must consider them reasonable."

"I don't want your money," cried Louis. "Do you believe me capable of discounting my father's death?"

"But, my dear client, allow me--"

"Come, Florestan, let us go," interrupted Louis, "this room stifles me."

"My dear Porquin," remarked Saint-Herem, as he followed his friend to the door, "as you see, there are still honest sons and daughters living. I will not say: 'May this serve you as a lesson or an example,' for you are too old a sinner to reform; but I sincerely hope this double disappointment will prove a most disagreeable pill to swallow."

"Ah! my dear friend, you have relieved me of a cruel doubt," said Louis, gratefully, when they had reached the street. "I am now certain that Mariette never lowered herself to this wretch--but the fact still remains that she has broken our engagement."

"Did she tell you so?"

"She has written or, rather, made someone else write."

"Made someone else write?"

"Ah! you will laugh at me--the poor girl I love can neither read nor write."

"What a happy mortal you are! You are spared the lengthy epistles I am forced to endure from a little shop girl whom I have robbed from a jealous banker. I amuse myself by making her the rage, and enjoy the poor creature's ecstasies immensely! It is so delightful to make others happy. Her grammar is outrageous, however. Ah! my friend, what orthography! it is of the antediluvian, innocent style; such as Mother Eve must have used--but if your Mariette cannot write, who knows but her secretary may have misinterpreted her thoughts?"

"With what object?"

"I don't know. But why not have an explanation with her?"

"She has begged me, in the name of her future happiness, not to see her again."

"Well, now that you are a prospective millionaire, I would advise you to see her in the name of that very future happiness."

"You are right, Florestan; I shall see her, and if this cruel mystery can be explained, if I find her as in the past, affectionate and devoted, what bliss shall be mine! Poor child, her life has been one of work and misery; but she will now find comfort and rest, for my father shall consent, and--Ah! my G.o.d!--"

"What is it?" asked Florestan, anxiously.