away with it marks of all the walls against which it had been rubbed when he had indulged a little too freely in the cheerful glass. He seemed to belong to that class who consider it a work of supererogation to disrobe before going to bed, and who just turn in on such spot as the fancy of the moment may dictate. Paul and Rose both recognized the old man from having continually met him when ascending or descending the staircase, and knew that he rented the back attic, and was called Daddy Tantaine. In an instant the idea flashed across Paul’s mind that the dilapidated state of the partition permitted every word spoken in one attic to be overheard in the other, and this did not tend to soothe his exasperated feelings.
“What do you want here, sir?” asked he angrily. “And, pray, who gave you permission to enter my room without leave?”
The old man did not seem at all put out by the threatening language of his questioner. “I should be telling a fib,” answered he calmly, “if I were to tell you that, being in my own room and hearing you quarrelling, I did not hear every word of what you have been saying.”
“Sir!”
“Stop a bit, and don’t be in such a hurry, my young friend. You seem disposed to quarrel, and, on my faith, I am not surprised; for when there is no corn in the manger, the best tempered horse will bite and kick.”
He uttered these words in the most soothing accents, and appeared utterly unconscious of having committed any breach of etiquette in entering the room.
“Well, sir,” said Paul, a flush of shame passing across his face, “you see now how poverty can drag a man down. Are you satisfied?”
“Come, come, my young friend,” answered Daddy Tantaine, “you should not get angry; and if I did step in without any notice, it was because, as a neighbor, I find I might venture on such a liberty; for when I heard how embarrassed you were, I said to myself, ‘Tantaine, perhaps you can help this pretty pair out of the scrape they have got into.’”
The promise of assistance from a person who had not certainly the outward appearance of a capitalist seemed so ludicrous to Rose that she could not restrain a smile, for she fancied that if their old neighbor was to present them with half his fortune, it might possibly amount to twenty centimes or thereabouts.
Paul had formed a somewhat similar idea, but he was a little touched by this act of friendliness on the part of a man who doubtless knew that money lent under similar circumstances was but seldom returned.
“Ah, sir!” said he, and this time he spoke in softer accents, “what can you possibly do for us?”
“Who can say?”
“You can see how hard we are pushed. We are in want of almost everything. Have we not reached the acme of misery?”
The old man raised his hand to heaven, as if to seek for aid from above.
“You have indeed come to a terrible pass,” murmured he; “but all is not yet lost. The pearl which lies in the depths of the ocean is not lost for ever; for may not some skillful diver bring it to the surface? A fisherman may not be able to do much with it, but he knows something of its value, and hands it over to the dealer in precious stones.”
He intensified his speech by a little significant laugh, the meaning of which was lost upon the two young people who, though their evil instincts led them to be greedy and covetous, were yet unskilled in the world’s ways.
“I should,” remarked Paul, “be a fool if I did not accept the offer of your kind assistance.”
“There, then, that is right; and now the first thing to do is to have a really good feed. You must get in some wood too, for it is frightfully cold. My old bones are half frozen; and afterward we will talk of a fresh rig out for you both.”
“Yes,” remarked Rose with a faint sigh; “but to do all that, we want a lot of money.”
“Well, how do you know that I can’t find it?”
Daddy Tantaine unbuttoned his great coat with grave deliberation, and drew from an inner pocket a small scrap of paper which had been fastened to the lining by a pin. This he unfolded with the greatest of care and laid upon the table.
“A banknote for five hundred francs!” exclaimed Rose, with extreme surprise. Paul did not utter a word. Had he seen the woodwork of the chair upon which he was leaning burst into flower and leaf, he could not have looked more surprised. Who could have expected to find such a sum concealed beneath the old man’s tatters, and how could he have obtained so much money? The idea that some robbery had been committed at once occurred to both the young people, and they exchanged a meaning glance, which, however, did not escape the observation of their visitor.
“Pooh, pooh!” said he, without appearing in the slightest degree annoyed. “You must not give way to evil thoughts or suspicions. It is a fact that banknotes for five hundred francs don’t often grow out of a ragged pocket like mine. But I got this fellow honestly,—that I can guarantee.”
Rose paid no attention to his words; indeed, she took no interest in them. The note was there, and that was enough for her. She took it up and smoothed it out as though the crisp paper communicated a pleasant sensation to her fingers.
“I must tell you,” resumed Daddy Tantaine, “that I am employed by a sheriff’s officer, and that, in addition, I do a little bill collecting for various persons. By these means I have often comparatively large sums in my possession, and I can lend you five hundred francs for a short time without any inconvenience to myself.”
Paul’s necessities and conscience were fighting a hard battle, and he remained silent, as a person generally does before arriving at a momentous decision.
At length he broke the silence. “No,” said he, “your offer is one that I cannot accept, for I feel—”
“This is no time, my dear Paul, to talk of feelings,” interrupted Rose; “besides, can you not see that our refusal to accept the loan annoys this worthy gentleman?”
“The young lady is quite right,” returned Daddy Tantaine. “Come, let us say that the matter is settled. Go out and get in something to eat, sharp, for it has struck four some time ago.”
At these words, Rose started, and a scarlet flush spread over her cheek. “Four o’clock,” repeated she, thinking of her letter; but after a moment’s reflection she stepped up to the cracked mirror, and arranging her tattered skirts, took up the banknote and left the room.
“She is a rare beauty,” remarked Daddy Tantaine with the air of one who was an authority in such matters, “and as clever as they make them. Ah! if she had only some one to give her a hint, she might rise to any height.”
Paul’s ideas were in such a wild state of confusion, that he could make no reply; and, now that he was no longer held in thrall by Rose’s presence, he began to be terrified at what had taken place, for he imagined that he caught a sinister expression in the old man’s face which made him very suspicious of the wisdom of the course he had been persuaded to pursue. Was there ever such an unheard-of event as an old man of such a poverty-stricken appearance showering banknotes upon the heads of perfect strangers? There was certainly something mysterious in the affair, and Paul made up his mind that he would do his utmost to avoid being compromised.
“I have thought the matter over,” said he resolutely; “and it is impossible for me to accept the loan of a sum which it would be difficult
