“I could not come.”

“You should have sent them; messengers are still to be found at the street-corners.”

“If I neither brought nor sent them, my dear Juliette, it was because I did not have them.  I had trouble enough in getting them promised me for to-morrow.  If I have the sum this evening, I owe it to a chance upon which I could not have counted an hour ago; but by which I profited, at the risk of compromising myself.”

“Poor man!” said Juliette, with an ironical touch of pity in her voice.  “Do you dare to tell me you have had difficulty in obtaining ten thousand francs,—­you?”

“Yes,—­I!”

The young woman looked at her lover, and burst into a fit of laughter.  “You are really superb when you act the poor young man!” said she.

“I am not acting.”

“So you say, my own.  But I see what you are aiming at.  This amiable confession is the preface.  To-morrow you will declare that your affairs are very much embarrassed, and the day after to-morrow . . .  Ah! you are becoming very avaricious.  It is a virtue you used not to possess.  Do you not already regret the money you have given me?”

“Wretched woman!” murmured Noel, fast losing patience.

“Really,” continued the lady, “I pity you, oh! so much.  Unfortunate lover!  Shall I get up a subscription for you?  In your place, I would appeal to public charity.”

Noel could stand it no longer, in spite of his resolution to remain calm.  “You think it a laughing matter?” cried he.  “Well! let me tell you, Juliette, I am ruined, and I have exhausted my last resources!  I am reduced to expedients!”

The eyes of the young woman brightened.  She looked at her lover tenderly.  “Oh, if ’twas only true, my big pet!” said she.  “If I only could believe you!”

The advocate was wounded to the heart.  “She believes me,” thought he; “and she is glad.  She detests me.”

He was mistaken.  The idea that a man had loved her sufficiently to ruin himself for her, without allowing even a reproach to escape him, filled this woman with joy.  She felt herself on the point of loving the man, now poor and humbled, whom she had despised when rich and proud.  But the expression of her eyes suddenly changed, “What a fool I am,” cried she, “I was on the point of believing all that, and of trying to console you.  Don’t pretend that you are one of those gentlemen who scatter their money broadcast.  Tell that to somebody else, my friend!  All men in our days calculate like money-lenders.  There are only a few fools who ruin themselves now, some conceited youngsters, and occasionally an amorous old dotard.  Well, you are a very calm, very grave, and very serious fellow, but above all, a very strong one.”

“Not with you, anyhow,” murmured Noel.