ance, which gives a man the force and patience to destroy or
wear out all obstacles in his way, he would say, "Oh! why am I not at
liberty? I am helpless, caged up; but let me once be free!"

Now he was free; and, for the first time, he saw the difficulties of the
task before him. For each crime, justice requires a criminal: he could
not establish his own innocence without producing the guilty man; how
find the thief so as to hand him over to the law?

Discouraged, but not despondent, he turned in the direction of his
apartments. He was beset by a thousand anxieties. What had taken place
during the nine days that he had been cut off from all intercourse with
his friends? No news of them had reached him. He had heard no more of
what was going on in the outside world, than if his secret cell had been
a grave.

He slowly walked along the streets, with his eyes cast down dreading to
meet some familiar face. He, who had always been so haughty, would now
be pointed at with the finger of scorn. He would be greeted with cold
looks and averted faces. Men would refuse to shake hands with him. He
would be shunned by honest people, who have no patience with a thief.

Still, if he could count on only one true friend! Yes: he was sure of
one. But what friend would believe him when his father, who should have
been the last to suspect him, had refused to believe him?

In the midst of his sufferings, when he felt almost overwhelmed by the
sense of his wretched, lonely condition, he thought of Gypsy.

He had never loved the poor girl: indeed, at times he almost hated her;
but now he felt a longing to see her. He wished to be with her, because
he knew that she loved him, and that nothing would make her believe him
guilty; because he knew that a woman remains true and firm in her faith,
and is always faithful in the hour of adversity, although she sometimes
fails in prosperity.

On entering the Rue Chaptal, Prosper saw his own door, but hesitated to
enter it.

He suffered from the timidity which an honest man always feels when he
knows he is viewed with suspicion.

He dreaded meeting anyone whom he knew; yet he could not remain in the
street. He entered.

When the porter saw him, he uttered an exclamation of glad surprise, and
said:

"Ah, here you are at last, monsieur. I told everyone you would come out
as white as snow; and, when I read in the papers that you were arrested
for robbery, I said, 'My third-floor lodger a thief!