Just as Louis picked up the envelope some one knocked at the door, and remembering that he had told the porter to return, he had barely time to take out one of the coins and close the chest before that functionary entered.
The porter examined the coin which the young man handed to him with quite as much surprise as curiosity, exclaiming, with a wondering air:
"What a handsome gold piece! One would suppose it had just been coined. I never saw one like it before."
"Go and pay the cabman with it!"
"But how much is a big gold piece like this worth, monsieur?"
"More than I owe. Go and get it changed, and pay the coachman."
"Did your father leave many of these big gold pieces, M. Richard?" asked the porter, in a mysterious tone. "Who would have supposed that old man—"
"Go!" thundered Louis, exasperated at the heartlessness of the question, "go and pay the coachman, and don't come back."
The porter beat a hasty retreat, and Louis, to guard against further intrusion, locked the door and returned to the chest.
Before opening his father's letter the young man, almost in spite of himself, gazed for a moment at the glittering treasure, but this time, though he reproached himself for the thought at such a moment, he remembered Mariette, and said to himself that one-fourth of the wealth that was lying there before him would assure his wife's comfort and independence for life.