Charles felt ashamed. He had been thinking that Alphonse must feel
wounded at being left on one side, and now he learned that his
friend not only did not grudge him his advancement, but was even
proud of him. By degrees his conscience was lulled to rest, and
his solid worth was more and more appreciated.

But if he was in reality the more capable, how came it that he was
so entirely ignored in society, while Alphonse remained
everybody's darling? The very promotions and marks of appreciation
which he had won for himself by hard work were accorded him in a
dry, business manner; while every one, from the directors to the
messengers, had a friendly word or a merry greeting for Alphonse.

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