trophe.

He was reassured by the opening lines; but as he read on, and took in
the meaning of Elizabeth's words, Fandor felt as though his heart were
bursting with grief.

Elizabeth Dollon had written:

"I seem to be going mad ... yes, I love you!... Yesterday, I should have
been glad to become your wife; but there came by the same post as your
letter, another, which contained terrible revelations, proofs of their
truth were given me!... I have not the right to curse you--or rather I
have not the strength to do it; but never will I marry you, Jerome
Fandor, you, Charles Rambert!..."[11]

[Footnote 11: See _Fantomas_ and _The Exploits of Juve_.]

It seemed to Fandor that everything was turning round about him.... He
took a few steps, staggering. The weight of this terrible past, a past
in which he was the innocent victim, but of which he could not clear
himself, overwhelmed him!

Fandor cried, in a voice of despair:

"Fantomas! Fantomas has taken his revenge!"

And before the astounded portress, the unhappy young man turned about
and fell in a heap on the ground.

On the other hand, shortly after the extraordinary flight of the
banker--Nanteuil to the world in general--but Fantomas to him and
Fandor--Juve had received from Monsieur Annion, the supreme head of the
police detective department, who only manifested himself on sensational
occasions, a note sent by pneumatic post:

"_Regret keenly that you revealed your personality in such
ridiculous circumstances, and that you failed to arrest a great
criminal._"

As Juve read these observations, he clinched his fists: he grew livid
with rage!

Dinner was a mere farce to the two friends: they did not dine: they had
no appetite! Juve and Fandor went over and over in their minds the
deplorable events of which, all said and done, they were the victims.
They gazed at each other full of self-pity. They felt they were two
derelicts afloat on the immense sea of indifferent humanity.

"The worst suffering," said Fandor, with tears of misery in his voice,
"is the pain of love."

"The most painful of wounds," said Juve bitterly, "is a wound to
self-respect!..."

These two, men every inch of them, might have their moments of
discouragement, but they were a sporting pair of the finest quality.

"Fandor!"

"Juve?"

"You are courageous?"

"I have courage, Juve!"

"Very well, my lad, let us sponge out the past, and start off afresh in
pursuit of F