"Wretchedness. Yes, Mademoiselle, my outset in life was hard. I am
without relations. Mother Marechal, a kind fruiterer of the Rue Pavee au
Marais, found me one morning by the curbstone, rolled in a number of the
Constitutionnel, like an old pair of boots. The good woman took me home,
brought me up and sent me to college. I must tell you that I was very
successful and gained a scholarship. I won all the prizes. Yes, and I
had to sell my gilt-edged books from the Lycee Charlemagne in the days of
distress. I was eighteen when my benefactress, Mother Marechal, died.
I was without help or succor. I tried to get along by myself. After ten
years of struggling and privations I felt physical and moral vigor giving
way. I looked around me and saw those who overcame obstacles were
stronger than I. I felt that I was doomed not to make way in the world,
not being one of those who could command, so I resigned myself to obey.
I fill a humble position as you know, but one which satisfies my wants.
I am without ambition. A little philosophical, I observe all that goes
on around me. I live happily like Diogenes in his tub."

"You are a wise man," resumed Suzanne. "I, too, am a philosopher, and I
live amid surroundings which do not please me. I, unfortunately, lost my
mother when I was very young, and although my father is very kind, he has
been obliged to neglect me a little. I see around me people who are
millionaires or who aspire to be. I am doomed to receive the attentions
of such men as Le Bride and Du Tremblay--empty-headed coxcombs, who court
my money, and to whom I am not a woman, but a sack of ducats trimmed with
lace."

"These gentlemen are the modern Argonauts. They are in search of the
Golden Fleece," observed Marechal.

"The Argonauts!" cried Suzanne, laughing. "You are right. I shall