e my friends, and that you will
be so entirely some day. Well, tell me if I am right in supposing that
should false and absurd stories be told about me you will help me to
contradict them."

"Yes!" replied Jean, "you are right in believing that."

"Well, then, it is to you that I address myself. You are a soldier, and
courage is part of your profession. Promise me to be brave. Will you
promise me?"

"What do you understand by being brave?"

"Promise, promise--without explanations, without conditions."

"Well, I promise."

"You will then reply frankly, 'Yes' or 'No,' to questions?"

"I will."

"Did they say that I had begged in the streets of New York?"

"Yes, they said so."

"Did they say I had been a rider in a travelling circus?"

"Yes; they said that, too."

"Very well; that is plain speaking. Now remark first that in all this
there is nothing that one might not acknowledge if it were true; but it
is not true, and have I not the right of denying it? My history--I will
tell it you in a few words. I am going to pass a part of my life in this
place, and I desire that all should know who I am and whence I come. To
begin, then. Poor! Yes, I have been, and very poor. Eight years ago my
father died, and was soon followed by my mother. I was then eighteen,
and Bettina nine. We were alone in the world, encumbered with heavy
debts and a great lawsuit. My father's last words had been, 'Susie,
never, never compromise. Millions, my children, you will have millions.'
He embraced us both; soon delirium seized him, and he died repeating,
'Millions; millions!' The next morning a lawyer appeared, who offered
to pay all our debts, and to give us besides ten thousand dollars, if
we would give up all our claims. I refused. It was then that for several
months we were very poor."

"And it was then," said Bettina, "that I used to lay the cloth."

"I spent my life among the solicitors of New York, but no one would take
up my case; everywhere I received the same reply: 'Your cause is very
doubtful; you have rich and formidable adversaries; you need money,
large sums of money, to bring such a case to a conclusion, and you have
nothing. They offer to pay your debts, and to give you ten thousand
dollars besides. Accept it, and sell your case.' But my father's last
words rang in my ears, and I would not. Poverty, however, might soon
have forced me to, when one day I made another attempt on one of my
father's old friends, a banke