Thus he told the whole world that the Brevans came originally from the province of Maine, and that he was the last, the sole representative, of that old family.  Not that he prided himself particularly on his ancestors; he acknowledged frankly that there was very little left of their ancient splendor; in fact, nothing but a bare support.  But he never said what this “support” amounted to; his most intimate friends could not tell whether he had one thousand or ten thousand a year.  So much only was certain, that, to his great honor and glory, he had solved the great problem of preserving his independence and his dignity while associating, a comparatively poor man, with the richest young men of Paris.

His rooms were simple and unpretending; and he kept but a single servant—­his carriage he hired by the month.

How had Maxime Brevan become Daniel’s friend?  In the simplest possible way.  They had been introduced to each other at a great ball by a common friend of theirs, a lieutenant in the navy.  About one o’clock in the morning they had gone home together; and as the moon was shining brightly, the weather was mild, and the walking excellent, they had loitered about the Place de la Concorde while smoking their cigars.

Had Maxime really felt such warm sympathy for his friend?  Perhaps so.  At all events, Daniel had been irresistibly attracted by the peculiar ways of Maxime, and especially by the cool stoicism with which he spoke of his genteel poverty.  Then they had met again, and finally became intimate.

Brevan was just dressing for the opera when Daniel entered his room.  He uttered a cry of delight when he saw him, as he always did.

“What!” he said, “the hermit student from the other side of the river in this worldly region, and at this hour?  What good wind blows you over here?”

Then, suddenly noticing Daniel’s terrified appearance, he added,—­

“But what am I talking about?  You look frightened out of your wits.  What’s the matter?”

“A great misfortune, I fear,” replied Daniel.

“How so?  What is it?”

“And I want you to help me.”

“Don’t you know that I am at your service?”

Daniel certainly thought so.

“I thank you in advance, my dear Maxime; but I do not wish to give you too much trouble.  I have a long story to tell you, and you are just going out”—­

But Brevan interrupted him, shaking his head kindly, and saying,—­

“I was only going out for want of something better to do, upon my word!  So sit down, and tell me all.”

Daniel had been so overcome by terror, and the fear that he might possibly lose Henrietta, that he had run to his friend without considering what he was going to tell him.  Now, when the moment came to speak, he was silent.  The thought had just occurred to him, that Count Ville-Handry’s secret was not his own, and that he was in duty bound not to betray it, if possible, even if he could have absolutely relied upon his friend’s discretion.