ted, and their gayety seemed to insult
Hector's wretchedness. He left the main road at the Sevres bridge,
and descending the embankment reached the borders of the Seine.
Kneeling down, he took up some water in the palm of his hand, and
drank--an invincible lassitude crept over him. He sat, or rather
fell, upon the sward. The fever of despair came, and death now
seemed to him a refuge, which he could almost welcome with joy.
Some feet above him the windows of a Sevres restaurant opened toward
the river. He could be seen from there, as well as from the bridge;
but he did not mind this, nor anything else.

"As well here, as elsewhere," he said to himself.

He had just drawn his pistol out, when he heard someone call:

"Hector! Hector!"

He jumped up at a bound, concealed the pistol, and looked about.
A man was running down the embankment toward him with outstretched
arms. This was a man of his own age, rather stout, but well shaped,
with a fine open face and, large black eyes in which one read
frankness and good-nature; one of those men who are sympathetic at
first sight, whom one loves on a week's acquaintance.

Hector recognized him. It was his oldest friend, a college mate;
they had once been very intimate, but the count not finding the
other fast enough for him, had little by little dropped his intimacy,
and had now lost sight of him for two years.

"Sauvresy!" he exclaimed, stupefied.

"Yes," said the young man, hot, and out of breath, "I've been watching
you the last two minutes; what were you doing here?"

"Why--nothing."

"How! What they told me at your house this morning was true, then!
I went there."

"What did they say?"

"That nobody knew what had become of you, and that you declared to
Jenny when you left her the night before that you were going to blow
your brains out. The papers have already announced your death, with
details."

This news seemed to have a great effect on the count.

"You see, then," he answered tragically, "that I must kill myself!"

"Why? In order to save the papers from the inconvenience of
correcting their error."

"People will say that I shrunk--"

"Oh, 'pon my word now! According to you, a man must make a fool
of himself because it has been reported that he would do it.
Absurd, old fellow. What do you want to kill yourself for?"

Hector reflected; he almost saw the possibility of living.

"I am ruined," answered he, sadly.

"And it's for this that--stop, my fri