ders, which M.
Verduret observed.

"Well," said he, "it is rather hard, I admit, but it is a necessity. Now
listen: you are the invalid, and I am the doctor charged to cure you;
if I cut to the quick, you will have to endure it. It is the only way to
save you."

"Cut away then, monsieur," answered Prosper.

"Well, we will hurry, for time passes. You have a friend, M. de Lagors?"

"Raoul? Yes, monsieur, he is an intimate friend."

"Now tell me, who is this fellow?"

The term "fellow" seemed to offend Prosper.

"M. de Lagors, monsieur," he said, haughtily, "is M. Fauvel's nephew; he
is a wealthy young man, handsome, intelligent, cultivated, and the best
friend I have."

"Hum!" said M. Verduret, "I shall be delighted to make the acquaintance
of one adorned by so many charming qualities. I must let you know that I
wrote him a note in your name asking him to come here, and he sent word
that he would be here directly."

"What! do you suppose--"

"Oh, I suppose nothing! Only I must see this young man. Also, I have
arranged and will submit to you a little plan of conversation--"

A ring at the front door interrupted M. Verduret.

"Sacrebleu! adieu to my plan; here he is! Where can I hide so as to hear
and see?"

"There, in my bedroom; leave the door open and the curtain down."

A second ring was heard.

"Now remember, Prosper," said M. Verduret in a warning tone, "not
one word to this man about your plans, or about me. Pretend to be
discouraged, helpless, and undecided what to do."

And he disappeared behind the curtain, as Prosper ran to open the door.

Prosper's portrait of M. de Lagors had not been an exaggerated one.
So handsome a face and manly a figure could belong only to a noble
character.

Although Raoul said that he was twenty-four, he appeared to be not more
than twenty. He had a superb figure, well knit and supple; a beautiful
white brow, shaded by soft chestnut curly hair, soft blue eyes which
beamed with frankness.

His first impulse was to throw himself into Prosper's arms.

"My poor, dear friend!" he said, "my poor Prosper!"

But beneath these affectionate demonstrations there was a certain
constraint, which, if it escaped the cashier, was noticed by M.
Verduret.

"Your letter, my dear Prosper," said Raoul, "made me almost ill, I was
so frightened by it. I asked myself if you could have lost your mind.
Then I left everything, to fly to your assistance; and here I am."

Prosper did