as an old usurer--Chupin, as grasping as
avarice itself, refuse money! This was something which he had never seen
before, and which he would no doubt never see again.

Victor had become very much excited; his usually pale cheeks were
crimson, and in a harsh voice, he continued: "It's a fancy of
mine--that's all. I have eight hundred francs hidden in my room, the
fruit of years of work. I'll spend the last penny of it if need be; and
if I can see Coralth in the mire, I shall say, 'My money has been well
expended.' I'd rather see that day dawn than be the possessor of a
hundred thousand francs. If a horrible vision haunted you every night,
and prevented you from sleeping, wouldn't you give something to get rid
of it? Very well! that brigand's my nightmare. There must be an end to
it."

M. de Coralth, who was a man of wide experience, would certainly have
felt alarmed if he had seen his unknown enemy at the present moment, for
Victor's eyes, usually a pale and undecided blue, were glittering like
steel, and his hands were clinched most threateningly. "For he was the
cause of all my trouble," he continued, gloomily. "I've told you, sir,
that I was guilty of an infamous deed once upon a time. If it hadn't
been for a miracle I should have killed a man--the king of men.
Ah, well! if Monsieur Andre had broken his back by falling from a
fifth-floor window, my Coralth would be the Duc de Champdoce to-day. And
shall he be allowed to ride about in his carriage, and deceive and ruin
honest people? No--there are too many such villains at large for public
safety. Wait a little, Coralth--I owe you something, and I always pay
my debts. When M. Andre saved me, though I richly deserved to have
my throat cut, he made no conditions. He only said, 'If you are not
irredeemably bad you will be honest after this.' And he said these words
as he was lying there as pale as death with his shoulder broken, and
his body mangled from his fall. Great heavens! I felt smaller
than--than nothing before him. But I swore that I would do honor to
his teachings--and when evil thoughts enter my mind, and when I feel a
thirst for liquor, I say to myself, 'Wait a bit, and--and M. Andre will
take a glass with you.' And that quenches my thirst instantly. I have
his portrait at home, and every night, before going to bed, I tell him
the history of the day--and sometimes I fancy that he smiles at me. All
this is very absurd, perhaps, but I'm not ashamed of it. M. A