not seem to hear him; he was pre-occupied about the letter
which he had not written. What were its contents? Who was this stranger
whose assistance he had accepted?

"You must not feel discouraged," continued M. de Lagors: "you are young
enough to commence life anew. Your friends are still left to you. I have
come to say to you, Rely upon me; I am rich, half of my fortune is at
your disposal."

This generous offer, made at a moment like this with such frank
simplicity, deeply touched Prosper.

"Thanks, Raoul," he said with emotion, "thank you! But unfortunately all
the money in the world would be of no use now."

"Why so? What are you going to do? Do you propose to remain in Paris?"

"I know not, Raoul. I have made no plans yet. My mind is too confused
for me to think."

"I will tell you what to do," replied Raoul quickly, "you must start
afresh; until this mysterious robbery is explained you must keep away
from Paris. It will never do for you to remain here."

"And suppose it never should be explained?"

"Only the more reason for your remaining in oblivion. I have been
talking about you to Clameran. 'If I were in Prosper's place,' he said,
'I would turn everything into money, and embark for America; there I
would make a fortune, and return to crush with my millions those who
have suspected me.'"

This advice offended Prosper's pride, but he said nothing. He was
thinking of what the stranger had said to him.

"I will think it over," he finally forced himself to say. "I will see. I
would like to know what M. Fauvel says."

"My uncle? I suppose you know that I have declined the offer he made me
to enter his banking-house, and we have almost quarrelled. I have not
set foot in his house for over a month; but I hear of him occasionally."

"Through whom?"

"Through your friend Cavaillon. My uncle, they say, is more distressed
by this affair than you are. He does not attend to his business, and
wanders about as if he had lost every friend on earth."

"And Mme. Fauvel, and"--Prosper hesitated--"and Mlle. Madeleine, how are
they?"

"Oh," said Raoul lightly, "my aunt is as pious as ever; she has mass
said for the benefit of the sinner. As to my handsome, icy cousin, she
cannot bring herself down to common matters, because she is entirely
absorbed in preparing for the fancy ball to be given day after to-morrow
by MM. Jandidier. She has discovered, so one of her friends told me, a
wonderful dressmaker, a stranger