or luck, they have hitherto avoided the police-courts where so many others have come to grief.  Those who despise them fear them, and shake hands with them.  Moreover, they are rich enough not to steal any more themselves.  They have employes to do that.  I take Heaven to witness that never until lately had the idea come to me to disturb in their possession the men who robbed my father.  Alone, what need had I of money?  Later, O my friend!  I thought I could succeed in conquering the fortune I needed to obtain your hand.  You had promised to wait; and I was happy to think that I should owe you to my sole exertions.  Events have crushed my hopes.  I am to-day compelled to acknowledge that all my efforts would be in vain.  To wait would be to run the risk of losing you.  Therefore I hesitate no longer.  I want what’s mine:  I wish to recover that of which I have been robbed.  Whatever I may do,—­for, alas!  I know not to what I may be driven, what role I may have to play,—­remember that of all my acts, of all my thoughts, there will not be a single one that does not aim to bring nearer the blessed day when you shall become my wife.”

There was in his voice so much unspeakable affection, that the young girl could hardly restrain her tears.

“Never, whatever may happen, shall I doubt you, Marius,” she uttered.

He took her hands, and, pressing them passionately within his,

“And I,” he exclaimed, “I swear, that, sustained by the thought of you, there is no disgust that I will not overcome, no obstacle that I will not overthrow.”

He spoke so loud, that two or three persons stopped.  He noticed it, and was brought suddenly from sentiment to the reality,

“Wretches that we are,” he said in a low voice, and very fast, “we forget what this interview may cost us!”

And he led Mlle. Gilberte across the Boulevard; and, whilst making their way to the Rue St. Gilles, through the deserted streets,

“It is a dreadful imprudence we have just committed,” resumed M. de Tregars.  “But it was indispensable that we should see each other; and we had not the choice of means.  Now, and for a long time, we shall be separated.  Every thing you wish me to know,—­say it to that worthy Gismondo, who repeats faithfully to me every word you utter.  Through him, also, you shall hear from me.  Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, about nightfall, I shall pass by your house; and, if I am lucky enough to have a glimpse of you, I shall return home fired with fresh energy.  Should any thing extraordinary happen, beckon to me, and I’ll wait for you in the Rue des Minimes.  But this is an expedient to which we must only resort in the last extremity.  I should never forgive myself, were I to compromise your fair name.”

They had reached the Rue St. Gilles.  Marius stopped.

“We must part,” he began.

But then only Mlle. Gilberte remembered M. de Tregars’ letter, which she had in her pocket.  Taking it out, and handing it to him,