In the different offices and departments of the bank they intrigued to obtain possession of Monsieur Alphonse; for a breath of life and freshness followed ever in the wake of his handsome person and joyous nature.  Charles, on the other hand, had often remarked that his colleagues regarded him as a dry person, who thought only of business and of himself.

The truth was that he had a heart of rare sensitiveness, with no faculty for giving it expression.

Charles was one of those small, black Frenchmen whose beard begins right under the eyes; his complexion was yellowish and his hair stiff and splintery.  His eyes did not dilate when he was pleased and animated, but they flashed around and glittered.  When he laughed the corners of his mouth turned upward, and many a time, when his heart was full of joy and good-will, he had seen people draw back, half-frightened by his forbidding exterior.  Alphonse alone knew him so well that he never seemed to see his ugliness; every one else misunderstood him.  He became suspicious, and retired more and more within himself.

In an insensible crescendo the thought grew in him:  Why should he never attain anything of that which he most longed for—­intimate and cordial intercourse and friendliness which should answer to the warmth pent up within him?  Why should every one smile to Alphonse with out-stretched hands, while he must content himself with stiff bows and cold glances?

Alphonse knew nothing of all this.  He was joyous and healthy, charmed with life and content with his daily work.  He had been placed in the easiest and most interesting branch of the business, and, with his quick brain and his knack of making himself agreeable, he filled his place satisfactorily.

His social circle was very large—­every one set store by his acquaintance, and he was at least as popular among women as among men.

For a time Charles accompanied Alphonse into society, until he was seized by a misgiving that he was invited for his friend’s sake alone, when he at once drew back.

When Charles proposed that they should set up in business together, Alphonse had answered:  “It is too good of you to choose me.  You could easily find a much better partner.”

Charles had imagined that their altered relations and closer association in work would draw Alphonse out of the circles which Charles could not now endure, and unite them more closely.  For he had conceived a vague dread of losing his friend.

He did not himself know, nor would it have been easy to decide, whether he was jealous of all the people who flocked around Alphonse and drew him to them, or whether he envied his friend’s popularity.

They began their business prudently and energetically, and got on well.

It was generally held that each formed an admirable complement to the other.  Charles represented the solid, confidence-inspiring element, while the handsome and elegant Alphonse imparted to the firm a certain lustre which was far from being without value.