man of tatters before him, ashamed to have him know my sorry
secret, hopeless to see all chance of authority over him gone at
once, and with it my opportunity to earn a salary so generous,
for if I could continue to be but an amusement to him and only
part of his deception of Lambert R. Poor, my sense of honour
must be fit for the guillotine indeed.

I had a little struggle with myself, and I think I must have
wiped some amounts of the cold perspiration from my absurd head
before I was able to make an answer. It may be seen what a
coward I was, and how I feared to begin again that search for
employment. At last, however, I was in self-control, so that I
might speak without being afraid that my voice would shake.

"I am sorry," I said. "It seemed to me that my deception would
not cause any harm, and that I might be useful in spite of it --
enough to earn my living. It was on account of my being very
poor; and there are two little children I must take care of. --
Well, at least, it is over now. I have had great shame, but I
must not have greater."

"What do you mean?" he asked me rather sharply.

"I will leave immediately," I said, going to the door. "Since I
am no more than a joke, I can be of no service to your father or
to you; but you must not think that I am so unreasonable as to
be angry with you. A man whom you have beheld reduced to what I
was, at the Cafe' de la Paix, is surely a joke to the whole
world! I will write to your father before I leave the hotel and
explain that I feel myself unqualified--"