lle," Lucien faltered out.

At that word, Coralie sprang to her poet and held him tightly to her;
then, with her arms still about him, she turned to the silk-mercer, as
if to bid him see the beautiful picture made by two young lovers.

"Poor Musot, take all that you gave to me back again; I do not want
to keep anything of yours; for I love this boy here madly, not for his
intellect, but for his beauty. I would rather starve with him than have
millions with you."

Camusot sank into a low chair, hid his face in his hands, and said not a
word.

"Would you like us to go away?" she asked. There was a note of ferocity
in her voice which no words can describe.

Cold chills ran down Lucien's spine; he beheld himself burdened with a
woman, an actress, and a household.

"Stay here, Coralie; keep it all," the old tradesman said at last, in a
faint, unsteady voice that came from his heart; "I don't want anything
back. There is the worth of sixty thousand francs here in the furniture;
but I could not bear to think of my Coralie in want. And yet, it will
not be long before you come to want. However great this gentleman's
talent may be, he can't afford to keep you. We old fellows must expect
this sort of thing. Coralie, let me come and see you sometimes; I may be
of use to you. And--I confess it; I cannot live without you."

The poor man's gentleness, stripped as he was of his happiness just as
happiness had reached its height, touched Lucien deeply. Coralie was
quite unsoftened by it.

"Come as often as you wish, poor Musot," she said; "I shall like you all
the better when I don't pretend to love you."

Camusot seemed to be resigned to his fate so long as he was not driven
out of the earthly paradise, in which his life could not have been all
joy; he trusted to the chances of life in Paris and to the temptations
that would beset Lucien's path; he would wait a while, and all that
had been his should be his again. Sooner or later, thought the wily
tradesman, this handsome young fellow would be unfaithful; he would keep
a watch on him; and the better to do this and use his opportunity with
Coralie, he would be their friend. The persistent passion that could
consent to such humiliation terrified Lucien. Camusot's proposal of a
dinner at Very's in the Palais Royal was accepted.

"What joy!" cried Coralie, as soon as Camusot had departed. "You will
not go back now to your garret in the Latin Quarter; you will live here.
We shal