r, though careful. He disliked
anything that made him conspicuous. His face and his voice had a certain
sadness that contrasted strangely with his name of Esperance.[A] Books
lay open on the table before him; they were on philosophical subjects,
heat and cold. Imagination had never touched him with her golden wand.

[A] Esperance means Hope.

Esperance was very pale as he read his father's letter. He extended his
hand and rang the bell.

Coucon entered, looking very differently from those old days in Africa.
Not that he wore a livery, but his brown suit was simple and well cut.
In his eyes, however, was much of the old fire.

"Has my father gone?" asked Esperance.

"Yes, sir, while you were asleep."

"Why was not I awakened?"

"Because the Count forbade it. He simply said, as he went away, that a
letter was to be given to you."

"Was Bertuccio with my father?"

"Yes, sir."

"In what direction did he go?"

"I know not, and I assure you that no one in the hotel knows more than
I."

Coucon was glad when this examination was over. Esperance was never
harsh or severe with his people, but they never felt at ease with him as
with his father. But in fact Bertuccio had given no hint of where the
Count was going, and when Esperance was fully convinced of this he
dismissed Coucon; but as the Zouave was leaving the room, the young
master stopped him.

"I want to say to you, Coucon, that I am fully aware of your fidelity,
and that I trust you implicitly. You once assisted my father to save my
life."

"Never mind that, sir."

"And if my manner is cold toward you, my heart is not. Shake hands with
me."

Coucon, greatly pleased, laid his huge hand into the delicate one of the
Vicomte, who pressed it warmly.

The Zouave uttered an exclamation.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing--only--"

"Only what?"

"Well, sir, you have a tremendous squeeze, I must say. Your fingers felt
as if they were made of steel."

Esperance looked at his hands in some surprise.

"Yes," he said, in a dreamy voice, "I am strong, I believe."

"Strong! I should say you were."

"I did not hurt you, I trust?" and Esperance still gazed at his hands in
a troubled sort of way.

"Where will you breakfast, sir?" asked Coucon.

"In the gallery, I think."

"And alone?"

"I don't know; I do not remember inviting any one."

Coucon departed, proud of the shake of the hand he had received,
although he still rubbed his fingers to re