ney entrusted to him, and we are not certain of it. And we only
surmise that he has been arrested, and thrown the blame on you. Before
giving up the game, would it not be best to be satisfied on these
points?"

Paul felt a little reassured.

"I say nothing," continued Mascarin, "of the influence I exercise over
Tantaine, and which may enable me to compel him to confess the truth."

Weak natures like Paul's are raised in a moment from the lowest depths
of depression to the highest pitch of exultation, and he already
considered that he was saved.

"Shall I ever be able to prove my gratitude to you?" said he
impulsively.

Mascarin's face assumed a paternal expression.

"Perhaps you may," answered he; "and as a commencement you must entirely
forget the past. Daylight dispels the hideous visions of the night. I
offer you a fresh lease of life; will you become a new man?"

Paul heaved a deep sigh. "Rose," he murmured; "I cannot forget her."

Mascarin frowned. "What," said he, "do you still let your thoughts dwell
on that woman? There are people who cringe to the hand that strikes
them, and the more they are duped and deceived, the more they love. If
you are made of this kind of stuff, we shall never get on. Go and
find your faithless mistress, and beg her to come back and share your
poverty, and see what she will say."

These sarcasms roused Paul. "I will be even with her some day," muttered
he.

"Forget her; that is the easiest thing for you to do."

Even now Paul seemed to hesitate. "What," said his patron reproachfully,
"have you no pride?"

"I have, sir."

"You have not, or you would never wish to hamper yourself with a woman
like Rose. You should keep your hands free, if you want to fight your
way through the battle of life."

"I will follow your advice, sir," said Paul hurriedly.

"Very soon you will thank Rose deeply for having left you. You will
climb high, I can tell you, if you will work as I bid you."

"Then," stammered Paul, "this situation at twelve thousand francs a
year----"

"There never has been such a situation."

A ghastly pallor overspread Paul's countenance, as he saw himself again
reduced to beggary.

"But, sir," he murmured, "will you not permit me to hope--"

"For twelve thousand francs! Be at ease, you shall have that and much
more. I am getting old. I have no ties in the world--you shall be my
adopted son."

A cloud settled on Paul's brow, for the idea that his life was to