“You are a woman, and the least politeness—­”

“No!  My father must have hurt your feelings unwittingly; for he is very good.  I have asked him, and he did not seem to understand what I meant.  But my questions drew his attention to you.  He thinks highly of you and would like to see you filling a position more in harmony with your merit.  You know that Monsieur Cayrol and my father have just launched a tremendous undertaking?”

“The ’Credit European’?”

“Yes.  They will have offices in all the commercial centres of European commerce.  Would you like the management of one of these branches?”

“I, Mademoiselle?” cried Marechal, astonished, and already asking himself what interest Herzog could have in making him leave the house of Desvarennes.

“The enterprise is colossal,” continued Suzanne, “and frightens me at times.  Is it necessary to be so rich?  I would like my father to retire from these enormous speculations into which he has thrown himself, body and soul.  I have simple tastes.  My father wishes to make a tremendous fortune for me, he says.  All he undertakes is for me, I know.  It seems to me that he runs a great risk.  That is why I am talking to you.  I am very superstitious, and I fancy if you were with us it would bring us luck.”

Suzanne, while speaking, had leaned toward Marechal.  Her face reflected the seriousness of her thoughts.  Her lovely eyes implored.  The young man asked himself how this charming girl could belong to that horrible Herzog.

“Believe me that I am deeply touched, Mademoiselle, by the favor you have done me,” said he, with emotion.  “I owe it solely to your kindness, I know; but I do not belong to myself.  I am bound to Madame Desvarennes by stronger ties than those of interest—­those of gratitude.”

“You refuse?” she cried, painfully.

“I must.”

“The position you fill is humble.”

“I was very glad to accept it at a time when my daily bread was not certain.”

“You have been reduced,” said the young girl, with trembling voice, “to such—­”

“Wretchedness.  Yes, Mademoiselle, my outset in life was hard.  I am without relations.  Mother Marechal, a kind fruiterer of the Rue Pavee au Marais, found me one morning by the curbstone, rolled in a number of the Constitutionnel, like an old pair of boots.  The good woman took me home, brought me up and sent me to college.  I must tell you that I was very successful and gained a scholarship.  I won all the prizes.  Yes, and I had to sell my gilt-edged books from the Lycee Charlemagne in the days of distress.  I was eighteen when my benefactress, Mother Marechal, died.  I was without help or succor.  I tried to get along by myself.  After ten years of struggling and privations I felt physical and moral vigor giving way.  I looked around me and saw those who overcame obstacles were stronger than I. I felt that I was doomed not to make way in the world, not being one of those who could command, so I resigned myself to obey.  I fill a humble position as you know, but one which satisfies my wants.  I am without ambition.  A little philosophical, I observe all that goes on around me.  I live happily like Diogenes in his tub.”