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I have an idea that he must have been a brave, honest sort of youth before Clameran ruined him." Prosper was no longer listening. M. Verduret's words had inspired him with confidence. Already he saw the guilty men arraigned before the bar of justice; and enjoyed, in anticipation, this assize-court drama, where he would be publicly exonerated and restored to position.
Until now he had not doubted the propriety of his action. But now when too late, when he heard the sound of his letter falling into the box, a thousand scruples filled his mind. Was it not wrong to act thus hurriedly? Would not this letter interfere with M. Verduret's plans? Upon reaching the hotel, his doubts were changed into bitter regrets.
This reply made the porter laugh very much, but not a muscle of M. Verduret's face moved. "A porter? Well, do you know this colleague of yours." "I never even saw him before." "How does he look?" "He was neither tall nor short; he wore a green vest, and his medal." "Your description is so vague that it would suit every porter in the city; but did your colleague tell you who sent the letter?"
I am glad I did listen, because it has enabled me to say to you, Take courage, Prosper: Mlle. Madeleine loves you; she has never ceased to love you." Like a dying man who eagerly listens to deceitful promises of recovery, although he feels himself sinking into the grave, did Prosper feel his sad heart cheered by M. Verduret's assertion. "Oh," he murmured, suddenly calmed, "if only I could hope!"
She sacrifices you, but then she almost has the right, since she first sacrificed herself." Prosper was almost convinced; and it nearly broke his heart to leave this little parlor where he had seen Madeleine. "Alas!" he said, pressing M. Verduret's hand, "you must think me a ridiculous fool! but you don't know how I suffer."
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