"Who told you that?"
"Herself—the Vatnaz! But I am afraid of giving you offence——"
"Impossible, my dear friend!"
"Ah! that is true—you are so good!"
And he held out to him, in a cautious fashion, a hand in which he clasped a little pocket-book made of sheep-leather.
It contained four thousand francs—all his savings.
"What! Oh! no! no!—--"
"I knew well I would wound your feelings," returned Dussardier, with a tear in the corner of his eye.
Frederick pressed his hand, and the honest fellow went on in a piteous tone:
"Take the money! Give me that much pleasure! I am in such a state of despair. Can it be, furthermore, that all is over? I thought we should be happy when the Revolution had come. Do you remember what a beautiful thing it was? how freely we breathed! But here we are flung back into a worse condition of things than ever.