needs, for he was quite sure of still leaving behind more than was necessary to pay all his just debts.  All that he has left, sir, is yours; he says so himself in his letter, and I am especially charged to repeat it to you.  That gold is, therefore, legitimately your property, as this house in which we are now.  I can repeat to you the very words your father said to me on embarking:  ’May my son forgive me for leaving him; may he remember that I am still in the world only to love me, and let him use what remains after my debts are paid as though it were his inheritance.’  Those, sir, are his own expressions; so put this back in your pocket, and, since you accept my dinner, pray let us go home.”

The honest joy which shone in Jean’s eyes, left no doubt in the mind of Croisilles.  The words of his father had moved him to such a point that he could not restrain his tears; on the other hand, at such a moment, four thousand francs were no bagatelle.  As to the house, it was not an available resource, for one could realize on it only by selling it, and that was both difficult and slow.  All this, however, could not but make a considerable change in the situation the young man found himself in; so he felt suddenly moved—­shaken in his dismal resolution, and, so to speak, both sad and, at the same time, relieved of much of his distress.  After having closed the shutters of the shop, he left the house with Jean, and as he once more crossed the town, could not help thinking how small a thing our affections are, since they sometimes serve to make us find an unforeseen joy in the faintest ray of hope.  It was with this thought that he sat down to dinner beside his old servant, who did not fail, during the repast, to make every effort to cheer him.

Heedless people have a happy fault.  They are easily cast down, but they have not even the trouble to console themselves, so changeable is their mind.  It would be a mistake to think them, on that account, insensible or selfish; on the contrary they perhaps feel more keenly than others and are but too prone to blow their brains out in a moment of despair; but, this moment once passed, if they are still alive, they must dine, they must eat, they must drink, as usual; only to melt into tears again at bed-time.  Joy and pain do not glide over them but pierce them through like arrows.  Kind, hot-headed natures which know how to suffer, but not how to lie, through which one can clearly read,—­not fragile and empty like glass, but solid and transparent like rock crystal.

After having clinked glasses with Jean, Croisilles, instead of drowning himself, went to the play.  Standing at the back of the pit, he drew from his bosom Mademoiselle Godeau’s bouquet, and, as he breathed the perfume in deep meditation, he began to think in a calmer spirit about his adventure of the morning.  As soon as he had pondered over it for awhile, he saw clearly the truth; that is to say, that the young lady, in leaving the bouquet in his