offered him
by Madame Paul. This was apparently a trifle, and yet in reality it was
something marvellous, unprecedented, on the part of this poor lad, who,
having neither trade nor profession, was obliged to earn his daily bread
through the medium of those chance opportunities which the lower classes
of Paris are continually seeking. As he returned to the Rue de Flandres,
he muttered: "Take twenty sous from that poor creature, who hasn't had
enough to satisfy her hunger for heaven knows how long! That would be
altogether unworthy of a man."

It is only just to say that money had never given him a feeling of
satisfaction at all comparable with that which he now experienced.
He was impressed, too, with a sense of vastly-increased importance on
thinking that all the faculties, and all the energy he had once employed
in the service of evil, were now consecrated to the service of good. By
becoming the instrument of Pascal Ferailleur's salvation he would, in
some measure, atone for the crime he had committed years before.

Chupin's mind was so busily occupied with these thoughts that he reached
the Rue d'Anjou and M. de Coralth's house almost before he was aware of
it. To his great surprise, the concierge and his wife were not alone.
Florent was there, taking coffee with them. The valet had divested
himself of his borrowed finery, and had donned his red waistcoat again.
He seemed to be in a savage humor; and his anger was not at all strange
under the circumstances. There was but a step from M. de Coralth's house
to the baroness's residence, but fatalities may attend even a step! The
baroness, on receiving the letter from her maid, had sent a message to
Florent requesting him to wait, as she desired to speak with him! and
she had been so inconsiderate as to keep him waiting for more than an
hour, so that he had missed his appointment with the charming ladies he
had spoken of. In his despair he had returned home to seek consolation
in the society of his friend the concierge. "Have you the answer?" he
asked.

"Yes, here it is," replied Chupin, and Florent had just slipped the
letter into his pocket, and was engaged in counting out the thirty
sous which he had promised his messenger, when the familiar cry, "Open,
please," was heard outside.

M. de Coralth had returned. He sprang to the ground as soon as the
carriage entered the courtyard, and on perceiving his servant, he
exclaimed: "Have you executed my commissions?"

"The