"You, Chourineur? You!"
"Yes, for all you doubt it; but you vex me by not seeming to like my help. Come, hold tight by me; I will see you all right before I leave you."
"Are you quite sure you do not mean me some harm? that you are only laying a trap to ensnare me?"
"I am not such a scoundrel as to take advantage of your misfortune. But let us begone. Come on, old fellow; it will be daylight directly."
"Day! which I shall never more behold! Day and night to me are henceforward all the same!" exclaimed the Schoolmaster, in such piteous tones that Rodolph, unable longer to endure this scene, abruptly retired, followed by David, who first dismissed his two assistants.
The Chourineur and the Schoolmaster remained alone. After a lengthened silence the latter spoke first, by inquiring whether it were really true that the pocketbook presented to him contained money.
"Yes, I can positively speak to its containing five thousand francs," replied the Chourineur, "since I put them in it with my own hand. With that sum you could easily place yourself to board with some quiet, good sort of people, who would look to you,—in some retired spot in the country, where you might pass your days happily. Or would you like me to take you to the ogress's?"
"She! she would not leave me a rap."
"Well, then, will you go to Bras Rouge?"
"No, no! He would poison me first and rob me afterwards."