me, and, frankly, I rejoice, because I
wish to talk to you of a serious affair--on which depends my future."

"This is a poor place for serious talk."

"I do not find it so."

"We would better appoint some other time."

"Why should we, since chance has thrown us together here?"

Glady resigned himself to the inevitable, and was as polite as he could
be in the circumstances.

"I await your pleasure," he said in a gracious tone, that was a contrast
to his former one.

Saniel, who was in such a hurry a few moments before, now silently
walked by Glady, whose eyes were on the shining asphalt pavement.

At last he spoke.

"I have told you that my future depends on the affair concerning which
I wish to speak to you. I can tell you all in a few words: If I am
not able to procure three thousand francs within two days, I shall be
obliged to leave Paris, to give up my studies and my work here, and go
and bury myself in my native town and become a plain country doctor."

Glady did not flinch; if he had not foreseen the amount he expected the
demand, and he continued gazing at his feet.

"You know," continued Saniel, "that I am the son of peasants; my father
was marshal in a poor village of Auvergne. At school I gave proof of a
certain aptitude for work above my comrades, and our cure conceived
an affection for me and taught me all he knew. Then he made me enter
a small seminary. But I had neither the docile mind nor the submissive
character that was necessary for this education, and after several years
of pranks and punishments, although I was not expelled, I was given to
understand that my departure would be hailed with delight. I then became
usher in a small school, but without salary, taking board and lodging
as payment. I passed a good examination and was preparing for my degree,
when I left the school owing to a quarrel. I had made some money by
giving private lessons, and I found myself the possessor of nearly
eighty francs. I started for Paris, where I arrived at five o'clock
one morning in June, and where I knew, no one. I had a small trunk
containing a few shirts, which obliged me to take a carriage. I told the
coachman to take me to a hotel in the Latin Quarter. 'Which hotel?' he
asked; 'I do not care,' I answered. 'Do you wish to go to the Hotel du
Senat?' The name pleased me; perhaps it was an omen. He took me to the
Hotel du Senat, where, with what I had left of my eighty francs, I paid
a month in advance