and the money you advanced. Believe me, monsieur, if I have not shown
you the gratitude I owe you for your kind offices, it is not the less
there," and he laid his hand on his heart. "Yes, it is there, deep and
sincere. But what can the unfortunate do? They live, and that is all."

"What!" said Derville. "Did you not stipulate for an allowance?"

"Do not speak of it!" cried the old man. "You cannot conceive how deep
my contempt is for the outside life to which most men cling. I was
suddenly attacked by a sickness--disgust of humanity. When I think
that Napoleon is at Saint-Helena, everything on earth is a matter of
indifference to me. I can no longer be a soldier; that is my only real
grief. After all," he added with a gesture of childish simplicity, "it
is better to enjoy luxury of feeling than of dress. For my part, I
fear nobody's contempt."

And the Colonel sat down on his bench again.

Derville went away. On returning to his office, he sent Godeschal, at
that time his second clerk, to the Comtesse Ferraud, who, on reading
the note, at once paid the sum due to Comte Chabert's lawyer.



In 1840, towards the end of June, Godeschal, now himself an attorney,
went to Ris with Derville, to whom he had succeeded. When they reached
the avenue leading from the highroad to Bicetre, they saw, under one
of the elm-trees by the wayside, one of those old, broken, and hoary
paupers who have earned the Marshal's staff among beggars by living on
at Bicetre as poor women live on at la Salpetriere. This man, one of