les represented the solid, confidence-inspiring element,
while the handsome and elegant Alphonse imparted to the firm a certain
lustre which was far from being without value.

Every one who came into the counting-house at once remarked his handsome
figure, and thus it seemed quite natural that all should address
themselves to him.

Charles meanwhile bent over his work and let Alphonse be spokesman.
When Alphonse asked him about anything, he answered shortly and quietly
without looking up.

Thus most people thought that Charles was a confidential clerk, while
Alphonse was the real head of the house.

As Frenchmen, they thought little about marrying, but as young Parisians
they led a life into which erotics entered largely.

Alphonse was never really in his element except when in female society.
Then all his exhilarating amiability came into play, and when he leaned
back at supper and held out his shallow champagne-glass to be refilled,
he was as beautiful as a happy god.

He had a neck of the kind which women long to caress, and his soft,
half-curling hair looked as if it were negligently arranged, or
carefully disarranged, by a woman's coquettish hand.

Indeed, many slim white fingers had passed through those locks; for
Alphonse had not only the gift of being loved by women, but also the yet
rarer gift of being forgiven by them.

When the friends were together at gay supper-parties, Alphonse paid no
particular heed to Charles. He kept no account of his own love-affairs,
far less of those of his friend. So it might easily happen that a beauty
on whom Charles had cast a longing eye fell into the hands of Alphonse.

Charles was used to seeing his friend preferred in life; but there are
certain things to which men can scarcely accustom themselves. He seldom
went with Alphonse to his suppers, and it was always long before the
wine and the general exhilaration could bring him into a convivial
humor.

But then, when the champagne and the bright eyes had gone to his head,
he would often be the wildest of all; he would sing loudly with his
harsh voice, laugh and gesticulate so that his stiff black hair fell
over his forehead; and then the merry ladies shrank from him, and
called him the "chimney-sweep."--As the sentry paces up and down in the
beleaguered fortress, he sometimes hears a strange sound in the silent
night, as if something were rustling under his feet. It is the enemy,
who has undermined the outworks, and