y worthy fellow! Go with him, by all means!"

The Chourineur approached the Schoolmaster and laid his hand on his
shoulder; the miserable villain started.

"Who touches me?" asked he, in a husky voice.

"It is I."

"I? Who? Who are you,--friend or foe?"

"The Chourineur."

"And you have come to avenge yourself now you find I am incapable of
protecting myself, I suppose?"

"Nothing of the sort. Here, take my arm; you cannot find the way out by
yourself; let me lead you--there--"

"You, Chourineur? You!"

"Yes, for all you doubt it; but you vex me by not seeming to like my
help. Come, hold tight by me; I will see you all right before I leave
you."

"Are you quite sure you do not mean me some harm? that you are only
laying a trap to ensnare me?"

"I am not such a scoundrel as to take advantage of your misfortune. But
let us begone. Come on, old fellow; it will be daylight directly."

"Day! which I shall never more behold! Day and night to me are
henceforward all the same!" exclaimed the Schoolmaster, in such piteous
tones that Rodolph, unable longer to endure this scene, abruptly
retired, followed by David, who first dismissed his two assistants.

The Chourineur and the Schoolmaster remained alone. After a lengthened
silence the latter spoke first, by inquiring whether it were really true
that the pocketbook presented to him contained money.

"Yes, I can positively speak to its containing five thousand francs,"
replied the Chourineur, "since I put them in it with my own hand. With
that sum you could easily place yourself to board with some quiet, good
sort of people, who would look to you,--in some retired spot in the
country, where you might pass your days happily. Or would you like me to
take you to the ogress's?"

"She! she would not leave me a rap."

"Well, then, will you go to Bras Rouge?"

"No, no! He would poison me first and rob me afterwards."

"Well, then, where shall I take you?"

"I know not. Happily for both, you are no thief, Chourineur. Here, take
my pocketbook, and conceal it carefully in my waistcoat, that La
Chouette may not see it; she would plunder me of every sou."

"Oh, bless you! the Chouette is quite safe just now; she lies in the
Hopital Beaujon. While I was struggling with you both to-night I
happened to dislocate her leg, so she's obliged to lie up for the
present."

"But what, in heaven's name, shall I do with this black curtain
continually before my eyes? In vain I t