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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I imagine you know the villain that gave me this little decoration, that night I was walking along the Rue Bourdaloue. That being the case, you know, I have a slight claim upon you, and shall expect you to relate to us your little story." But Raoul was so terrified that he could not utter a word. "Your modesty keeps you silent," said M. Verduret.
The visit of Lagors, and Gypsy's torn letter, had filled Prosper with suspicions which had grown stronger and more settled as time passed. "Do you know, my dear friend," said M. Verduret, "what part of France this devoted friend of yours comes from?" "He was born at St. Remy, which is also Mme. Fauvel's native town." "Are you certain of that?" "Oh, perfectly so, monsieur!
He was too experienced a knave to remain on slippery ground, now that his eyes were open to the danger which menaced him. It was almost dark when the carriage stopped in front of the Hotel du Louvre; M. Verduret noticed a crowd of people collected together in groups, eagerly discussing some exciting event which seemed to have just taken place.
Have you merely been amusing yourself by raising my hopes, to dash them " "Enough!" interrupted M. Verduret harshly; "you are too green to understand anything, my friend. If you are incapable of helping yourself, at least have sense enough to refrain from importuning those who are working for you. Do you not think you have already done sufficient mischief?"
"What does this mean?" he asked. "We will read the letter and find out," replied M. Verduret. The letter, like the address, was composed of printed words cut out and pasted on a sheet of paper. It was short but explicit: "MY DEAR PROSPER A friend, who knows the horror of your situation, sends you this succor. There is one heart, be assured, that shares your sufferings.
"I certainly would, for it is the darkest of mysteries, marvellous!" M. Verduret enjoyed Prosper's bewilderment. To be sure, he was neither a good judge nor a distinguished amateur; but he was an astonished admirer, and sincere admiration is always flattering, no matter whence it comes. "Well," he replied, "I will explain my system. There is nothing marvellous about it as you will soon see.
"At the end of the garden, under the trees." They ran to the spot, and in a few minutes had the ladder standing against the wall. But to their chagrin they found the ladder six feet too short. Six long feet of wall between the top of the ladder and the lighted window was a very discouraging sight to Prosper; he exclaimed: "We cannot reach it." "We can reach it," cried M. Verduret triumphantly.
"Because I learned at the Exposition that the word 'argent' means money in every language in Europe; and this word they constantly used in their conversation." M. Verduret sat with knit brows, talking in an undertone to himself; and Prosper, who was watching him, wondered if he was trying to understand and construct the dispute by mere force of reflection.
Why should he punish a fault committed so many years ago, and atoned for by twenty years of devotion and suffering? For some moments after M. Verduret had finished his explanation, M. Fauvel remained silent.
The debate lasted almost all day, during which time we drank a dozen bottles of wine. About supper-time, St. Jean was as drunk as a bunghole, and I had purchased nine hundred francs' worth of madder which your father will sell to-morrow." Prosper's astonished countenance made M. Verduret laugh heartily.
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