"I say so, M. Debray, because I have no friends now, and I ought not to have any. I thank you for having recognized me, sir." Debray stepped forward, and cordially pressed the hand of his interlocutor.
"Believe me, dear Albert," he said, with all the emotion he was capable of feeling, "believe me, I feel deeply for your misfortunes, and if, in any way, I can serve you, I am yours."
"Thank you, sir," said Albert, smiling. "In the midst of our misfortunes we are still rich enough not to require assistance from any one. We are leaving Paris, and when our journey is paid, we shall have five thousand francs left."
The blood mounted to the temples of Debray, who held a million in his pocket-book; and, unimaginative as he was, he could not help reflecting that the same house had contained two women, one of whom, justly dishonored, had left it poor with one million five hundred thousand francs under her cloak, while the other, unjustly stricken, but sublime in her misfortunes, was yet rich with a few deniers. This parallel disturbed his usual politeness; the philosophy he witnessed appalled him; he muttered a few words of general civility, and ran downstairs.
That day the minister's clerks and the subordinates had a great deal to put up with from his ill-humor. But the same night he found himself the possessor of a fine house, situated on the Boulevard de la Madeleine, and an income of fifty thousand livres. The next day, just as Debray was signing the deed, that is, about five o'clock in the afternoon, Madame de Morcerf, after having affectionately embraced her son, entered the coupé of the diligence which closed upon her.
A man was hidden in Lafitte's banking house, behind one of the little arched windows which are placed above each desk; he saw Mercédès enter the diligence, and he also saw Albert withdraw. Then he passed his hand across his forehead, which was clouded with doubt.
"Alas!" he exclaimed, "how can I restore the happiness I have taken away from these poor innocent creatures? God help me!"
