cet that all was not desperate; that his situation offered resources that he himself knew not, and that the question alone was to disentangle them. The master-workman was like all those who affect to scorn writing and figures; at the bottom he believed they held a secret power to which everything must give way. We succeeded then in bringing him back to our house, if not consoled, at least strengthened.

In truth, the peril was only delayed. I knew that by the next day the bad thoughts would return to him. I feared, above all, the kind of shame which these would-be suicides have. Lest others believe that they have been cowardly they return to their first intention with obstinacy; they regard death as the sole means of proving their courage, and out of self-esteem they kill themselves! I warned Geneviève, who promised to watch without intermission. In fact, she alone could do it without irritating Mauricet. The brave hearts are powerless against women and children.

In regard to myself, I had to see what could be done to avoid a breakdown. I passed a part of the night verifying the balance of the master-mason, but, however I figured and repeated the calculations, the deficit remained always the same. In continuing the business already engaged he had a good chance of recovering himself and "clearing up," as they say in the jargon of the trade. But for that it was necessary to have money or credit, and where could they be found? I had very much puzzled my brain without any means presenting itself. I tried everywhere the next day, but all my attempts were useless. I was sent from one to another

with rude rebuffs. Seeing me take so much heart in the affairs of Mauricet, they believed me interested, and I injured him without serving him.

However, I persisted, decided to do my duty to the end. The master-mason had fallen into a mute discouragement. One could not expect from him any effort to help himself. When I attempted to send him out he said to me simply, "The cords to my legs are cut; leave me where I am!"

I was at my wits' end, when I recalled the rich contractor who had formerly encouraged me to instruct myself. I had often thought of him in my own embarrassment, but without wishing to ask aid from him. I always recalled our first interview, in which he had proved to me that success was the recompense of zeal and of talent. Confessing to him that I had failed was to admit that I had shown neglect or incapacity. Right or wrong, I had always recoiled from exposing myself to this confusion. For Mauricet I had less scruple.

I feared that the millionaire had forgotten my face, but at the first glance of the eye he recognized me. That was something; yet I was troubled when it was necessary for me to tell him the motive of my visit. I had well prepared my story; at the moment of uttering it I became confused. The contractor comprehended that I was in business trouble and that I came to him asking money. I saw him raise his eyebrows and tighten his lips like a man who would express defiance. This suddenly gave me back my courage.

"Pray notice that I do not come for myself," I exclaimed, "but for a brave companion who has been to

me almost a father and whom you know-my friend Mauricet. What he asks of you is neither an advance nor a sacrifice, but only to save him from the shame of a failure without doing you any harm. It is the question of a good action which perhaps will bring you nothing, but which should not cost you anything."

"Let me see," said the contractor, who continued to regard me.

I then explained to him rapidly all the affair without making words, but without losing the thread of my discourse, and like one capitalist who converses with his equal. By force of will I had risen above myself. He listened to all, asked me many questions, demanded the papers in the case, and told me to come back the next day.

I went away hopeless. The thing seemed so clear that he could not put off responding if he had wished to accept. This adjournment had certainly no other end than of giving to the refusal an appearance of reflection. I returned, however, upon the hour agreed. "I have examined everything," the contractor said to "Your calculations are right. I will take charge of the affair. You can tell Mauricet to come and see me. He is a brave man, and we will find some employment for him which shall satisfy him."

me.

CHAPTER XII

AT MONTMORENCY

FTER the departure of Mauricet I busied myself winding up my own affairs. Justice had finally pronounced, and I could free myself. My debts were paid, all I had left was some stamped paper. I had satisfied all my engagements but I found myself for the second time penniless.

I was going to take up the trowel again when an architect, under whom I had worked, proposed that I should quit Paris and establish myself at Montmorency. He assured me work there for the season and promised to push me.

"It is a good place," he said to me. "There is only one master-mason, a good workman, but brutal, and whom one employs for lack of a better. With a little effort the better part of the work will come to you. Here you will always vegetate between the great contractors, who will suppress you. It is better to be a tree among bushes than a bush in the forest."

I too well felt these reasons to hesitate. All was soon concluded. The architect took me to the work, explained what I should do, and I returned to Paris to fetch Geneviève.

The moment of departure was hard. It was the first time that I had left the great city to live! I was accustomed to its dirt and its pavements, as the peasant is to verdure or the odor of hay. I had my familiar streets where I passed every day. My eye was accustomed to the people and to the houses. All were become by long usage like a part of myself. To abandon Paris was to get away from at the same time my tastes, my recollections, my entire life. The neighbors who had known us for a long time came to their doors to bid us adieu. Some of them pitied us! This made me assume a cheerful face. I greeted them laughingly. For nothing in the world would I let them see my sadness. I very well felt that this forced departure was a humiliation. It proved that bad luck had been stronger than myself. I wished to protest against the defeat by having the appearance of not feeling it. As for Geneviève, who had fewer regrets, she did not try to hide her tears. Loaded with baskets and packages, the poor woman responded to all the salutations and all the wishes of a happy journey by thanks accompanied with sighs. She stopped at each door to embrace the children for the last time. I was impatient at these delays, and I went along whistling in order to keep myself in countenance. Finally, at the turn of the street, when the last house of the faubourg had disappeared, I breathed more freely.

Geneviève had rejoined me. We climbed together into the wagon which carried our poor furnishings and took the road to Montmorency. God knows how many maledictions I addressed to myself on the way at the slowness of the horses and at the halts of the driver.