But she did not smile; she looked frightened, almost stupefied.  Making a supreme effort, she looked fixedly at the old man to see if she could read in his face what were his real thoughts.  He, on his part, was seriously troubled by his failure to inspire her with confidence.

“Do you doubt my promises?” he asked her.

She shook her head; and uttering her words one by one, as if to give them greater weight, she said,—­

“I beg your pardon, sir.  I do not doubt you.  But I cannot understand why you should offer me your kind protection.”

Papa Ravinet affected a greater surprise than he really felt, and said, raising his hands to heaven,—­

“Great God! she mistrusts my good will.”

“Sir!”

“Pray what can you have to fear from me?  I am an old man; you are almost a child.  I come to help you.  Is not that perfectly natural, and quite simple?”

She said nothing; and he remained a few moments buried in thought, as if trying to find out her motive for refusing his help.  Suddenly he cried out, beating his forehead,—­

“Ah, I have it.  That woman Chevassat has talked to you about me, no doubt.  Ah, the viper!  I’ll crush her one of these days!  Come, let us be frank; what has she told you?”

He hoped she would say a word at least.  He waited; but nothing came.

Then he broke forth, with a vehemence scarcely controlled, and in words very unexpected from a man like him,—­

“Well, I will tell you what the old thief has told you.  She told you Papa Ravinet was a dangerous, ill-reputed man, who carried on in the dark all kind of suspicious trades.  She told you the old scamp was a usurer, who knew no law, and kept no promise; whose only principle was profit; who dealt in every thing with everybody, selling to-day old iron in junk-shops, and to-morrow cashmere shawls to fashionable ladies; and who lent money on imaginary securities—­the talent of men and the beauty of women.  In fine, she told you that it was a piece of good-fortune for a woman to be under my protection, and you knew it was a disgrace.”

He stopped, as if to give the poor girl time to form her judgment, and then went on more calmly,—­

“Let us suppose there is such a Papa Ravinet as she has described.  But there is another one, whom but few people know, who has been sorely tried by misfortune; and he is the one who now offers his aid to you.”

There is no surer way to make people believe in any virtue we have, or wish to appear to have, than to accuse ourselves of bad qualities, or even vices, which we do not have.  But, if the old man had calculated upon this policy, he failed signally.  Henrietta remained as icy as ever, and said,—­

“Believe me, sir, I am exceedingly obliged to you for all you have done for me, and for your effort to convince me.”

The poor man looked disappointed.

“In fact, you reject my offers, because I do not explain them to you by any of the usual motives.  But what can I tell you?  Suppose I should say to you that I have a daughter who has secretly left me, so that I do not know what has become of her, and that her memory makes me anxious to serve you.  May I not have said to myself, that perhaps she is struggling, just as you have done, with poverty; that she also has been abandoned by her lover?”