“There remains only to provide the means for carrying out these measures, and for possible contingencies.  You are not rich, my dear Maxime, I mean rich in comparison with the people who are your friends; you have told me so more than once.”

He touched a wound which was always open, and always bleeding.

“Certainly,” replied M. de Brevan, “in comparison with a number of my friends, with men like Gordon Chalusse, for instance, I am only a poor devil.”

Daniel did not notice the bitterness of this reply.

“Now,” he said, “suppose, at a given moment, Miss Henrietta’s safety should make a certain sum of money necessary,—­perhaps a very large sum,—­are you sure you will always have enough in your drawer, and be able to dispose of it without inconvenience?”

“Ah! you expect too much of me; but I have friends.”

“And you would ask them! you would expose yourself to the humiliation of hearing those set excuses which serve to conceal refusals!  I could never permit that.”

“I assure you”—­

“Let me tell you that I have forgotten nothing.  Although my means are modest, I can, by selling out some bonds, realize enough to secure you against any embarrassment on that score.  I also own property in Anjou which is valued at fifty or sixty thousand dollars, and I mean to sell it.”

The other man opened his eyes wide.

“You mean,” he said slowly.

“To sell it, yes.  You heard right.  Except, however, my home, my father’s house, with the little garden in front, the orchard, and the meadow adjoining the house.  In that house my father and my mother have lived and died.  I find them there, so to say, whenever I go in; their thoughts are still filling the rooms, after so many years.  The garden and the orchard are the first little bits of land my father bought from his earnings as ploughboy.  He cultivated them in his leisure hours, and there is literally not a foot of soil which he has not moistened with the sweat of his brow.  They are sacred to me; but the rest—­I have already given orders.”

“And you expect to sell every thing in the three days before your departure?”

“Oh, no!  But you are here.”

“What can I do?”

“Take my place, I should think.  I will leave you a power-of-attorney.  Perhaps, if you make haste, you can get fifty thousand dollars for the property.  You will invest that so as to be able to use it any moment.  And, if ever Miss Henrietta should be compelled to leave her father’s house, you will hand the money over to her.”

M. de Brevan had turned very pale.

“Excuse me,” he said, “excuse me.”

“What?”

“Well, it seems to me it would be more suitable to leave some one else in charge of that.”

“Whom?”

“Oh!  I do not know,—­a more experienced man!  It may be that the property will not bring as much as you expect.  Or I might invest the money in the wrong funds.  Money questions are so delicate!”