cially charged to repeat it to you. That gold is,
therefore, legitimately your property, as this house in which we are now.
I can repeat to you the very words your father said to me on embarking:
'May my son forgive me for leaving him; may he remember that I am still in
the world only to love me, and let him use what remains after my debts are
paid as though it were his inheritance.' Those, sir, are his own
expressions; so put this back in your pocket, and, since you accept my
dinner, pray let us go home."

The honest joy which shone in Jean's eyes, left no doubt in the mind of
Croisilles. The words of his father had moved him to such a point that he
could not restrain his tears; on the other hand, at such a moment, four
thousand francs were no bagatelle. As to the house, it was not an
available resource, for one could realize on it only by selling it, and
that was both difficult and slow. All this, however, could not but make a
considerable change in the situation the young man found himself in; so he
felt suddenly moved--shaken in his dismal resolution, and, so to speak,
both sad and, at the same time, relieved of much of his distress. After
having closed the shutters of the shop, he left the house with Jean, and
as he once more crossed the town, could not help thinking how small a
thing our affections are, since they sometimes serve to make us find an
unforeseen joy in the faintest ray of hope. It was with this thought that
he sat down to dinner beside his old servant, who did not fail, during the
repast, to make every effort to cheer him.

Heedless people have a happy fault. They are easily cast down, but they
have not even the trouble to console themselves, so changeable is their
mind. It would be a mistake to think them, on that account, insensible or
selfish; on the contrary they perhaps feel more keenly than others and are
but too prone to blow their brains out in a moment of despair; but, this
moment once passed, if they are still alive, they must dine, they must
eat, they must drink, as usual; only to melt into tears again at bed-time.
Joy and pain do not glide over them but pierce them through like arrows.
Kind, hot-headed natures which know how to suffer, but not how to lie,
through which one can clearly read,--not fragile and empty like glass, but
solid and transparent like rock crystal.

After having clinked glasses with Jean, Croisilles, instead of drowning
himself, went to the play. Standing at the back