It was with some timidity that he extended his hand to Frederic, and he was surprised as well as moved by the more than usual warmth with which it was grasped by the friend he had long neglected. Such affectionate greeting was scarcely in keeping with the pride which characterised Frederic Lemercier.
“Ma foi!” said the Chevalier, glancing towards the clock, “how time flies! I had no idea it was so late. I must leave you now, my dear Rochebriant. Perhaps we shall meet at the club later—I dine there to-day. Au plaisir, M. Lemercier.”
CHAPTER III.
When the door had closed on the Chevalier, Frederic’s countenance became very grave. Drawing his chair near to Alain, he said: “We have not seen much of each other lately,—nay, no excuses; I am well aware that it could scarcely be otherwise. Paris has grown so large and so subdivided into sets, that the best friends belonging to different sets become as divided as if the Atlantic flowed between them. I come to-day in consequence of something I have just heard from Duplessis. Tell me, have you got the money for the wood you sold to M. Collot a year ago?”
“No,” said Alain, falteringly.
“Good heavens! none of it?”
“Only the deposit of ten per cent., which of course I spent, for it formed the greater part of my income. What of Collot? Is he really unsafe?”
“He is ruined, and has fled the country. His flight was the talk of the Bourse this morning. Duplessis told me of it.”
Alain’s face paled. “How is Louvier to be paid? Read that letter!”