“Is that a fact?”

“It is so; and whenever I choose, Mademoiselle Flavia will be only too ready to become Madame Paul.”

For an instant a bright flush crimsoned old Tantaine’s wrinkled face, but it faded away almost as soon as it appeared.

“Then you feel happy?” asked he, with a slight quiver in his voice.

Paul threw back his coat, and, placing his fingers in the armholes of his waistcoat, remarked carelessly,—­

“Yes, of course, I am happy, as you may suppose; but the news is not particularly startling to me.  On my third visit to M. Rigal’s, the girl let me know that I need not sigh in vain.”

Tantaine covered his face with his hands as Paul passed his fingers through his hair, and, striking what he considered an imposing attitude, read as follows:—­

“MY DEAR PAUL,—­

“I was very naughty, and I repent of it.  I could not sleep all night, for I was haunted by the look of sorrow I saw in your face when you took leave of me.  Paul, I did it to try you.  Can you forgive me?  You might, for I suffered much more than you could have done.  Some one who loves me—­perhaps more than you do—­has told me that when a girl shows all the depths of her heart to a man she runs the risk of his despising her.  Can this be true?  I hope not, Paul, for never—­no, never—­can I conceal my feelings; and the proof of my faith in you is that I am going now to tell you all.  I am sure that if your good friend and mine, Dr. Hortebise, came to my father with a certain request from you, it would not be rejected.

“Your own

“FLAVIA.”

“Did not this letter go straight to your heart?” asked Tantaine.

“Of course it did.  Why, she will have a million for her wedding portion!”

On hearing these words, Tantaine started up with so threatening an aspect that Paul recoiled a step, but a warning look from the doctor restrained the old man’s indignation.

“He is a perfect sham!” muttered he; “even his vices are mere pretence.”

“He is our pupil, and is what we have made him,” whispered Tantaine.

Meanwhile Tantaine had gone up to Paul, and, placing his hand caressingly on his shoulder, said,—­

“My boy, you will never know how much you owe to Mademoiselle Flavia.”

Paul could not understand the meaning of this scene.  These men had done their best to pervert his morals, and to deaden the voice of his conscience, and now that he had hoped to earn their praise by an affectation of cynicism they were displeased with him.  Before, however, he could ask a question, Tantaine had completely recovered his self-command.

“My dear boy,” said he, “I am quite satisfied with you.  I came here to-day expecting to find you still undecided, and I am pleased with the change.”

“But, sir—­” said Paul.

“On the contrary, you are firm and strong.”

“Yes, he has got on so well,” said the doctor, “that we should now treat him as one of ourselves, and confide more in him.  To-night, my young friend, M. Mascarin will get from Caroline Schimmel the solution of the riddle that has for so long perplexed us.  Be at the office to-morrow at ten o’clock, and you shall be told everything.”