himself.

The truth was that he had a heart of rare sensitiveness, with no faculty
for giving it expression.

Charles was one of those small, black Frenchmen whose beard begins right
under the eyes; his complexion was yellowish and his hair stiff and
splintery. His eyes did not dilate when he was pleased and animated, but
they flashed around and glittered. When he laughed the corners of his
mouth turned upward, and many a time, when his heart was full of joy
and good-will, he had seen people draw back, half-frightened by his
forbidding exterior. Alphonse alone knew him so well that he never
seemed to see his ugliness; every one else misunderstood him. He became
suspicious, and retired more and more within himself.

In an insensible crescendo the thought grew in him: Why should he never
attain anything of that which he most longed for--intimate and cordial
intercourse and friendliness which should answer to the warmth pent up
within him? Why should everyone smile to Alphonse with out-stretched
hands, while he must content himself with stiff bows and cold glances!

Alphonse knew nothing of all this. He was joyous and healthy, charmed
with life and content with his daily work. He had been placed in the
easiest and most interesting branch of the business, and, with his quick
brain and his knack of making himself agreeable, he filled his place
satisfactorily.

His social circle was very large--every one set store by his
acquaintance, and he was at least as popular among women as among men.

For a time Charles accompanied Alphonse into society, until he was
seized by a misgiving that he was invited for his friend's sake alone,
when he at once drew back.

When Charles proposed that they should set up in business together,
Alphonse had answered: "It is too good of you to choose me. You could
easily find a much better partner."

Charles had imagined that their altered relations and closer association
in work would draw Alphonse out of the circles which Charles could not
now endure, and unite them more closely. For he had conceived a vague
dread of losing his friend.

He did not himself know, nor would it have been easy to decide, whether
he was jealous of all the people who flocked around Alphonse and drew
him to them, or whether he envied his friend's popularity.--They began
their business prudently and energetically, and got on well.

It was generally held that each formed an admirable complement to the
other. Char