tion in the matter, if he had gone to the public
prosecutor's office and the chamber of notaries, he would have
disentangled the matter long before. However, he had recovered a sure
income of four thousand francs.

He seized the young man's hands and pressed them, smiling, his eyes
still moist with tears.

"Ah! my friend, if you knew how happy I am! This letter of Clotilde's
has brought me a great happiness. Yes, I was going to send for her; but
the thought of my poverty, of the privations she would have to endure
here, spoiled for me the joy of her return. And now fortune has come
back, at least enough to set up my little establishment again!"

In the expansion of his feelings he held out the letter to Ramond, and
forced him to read it. Then when the young man gave it back to him,
smiling, comprehending the doctor's emotion, and profoundly touched by
it, yielding to an overpowering need of affection, he caught him in
his arms, like a comrade, a brother. The two men kissed each other
vigorously on either cheek.

"Come, since good fortune has sent you, I am going to ask another
service from you. You know I distrust every one around me, even my old
housekeeper. Will you take my despatch to the telegraph office!"

He sat down again at the table, and wrote simply, "I await you; start
to-night."

"Let me see," he said, "to-day is the 6th of November, is it not? It is
now near ten o'clock; she will have my despatch at noon. That will give
her time enough to pack her trunks and to take the eight o'clock express
this evening, which will bring her to Marseilles in time for breakfast.
But as there is no train which connects with it, she cannot be here
until to-morrow, the 7th, at five o'clock."

After folding the despatch he rose:

"My God, at five o'clock to-morrow! How long to wait still! What shall I
do with myself until then?"

Then a sudden recollection filled him with anxiety, and he became grave.

"Ramond, my comrade, will you give me a great proof of your friendship
by being perfectly frank with me?"

"How so, master?"

"Ah, you understand me very well. The other day you examined me. Do you
think I can live another year?"

He fixed his eyes on the young man as he spoke, compelling him to look
at him. Ramond evaded a direct answer, however, with a jest--was it
really a physician who put such a question?

"Let us be serious, Ramond, I beg of you."

Then Ramond answered in all sincerity that, in his opinio