"Does Monsieur de Laisangy inspire you with absolute confidence?" asked Esperance, after a long pause.
The two friends had passed the Arc de Triomphe by this time, and entered the dark shadows of the Bois.
"Monsieur de Laisangy seems to have an excellent reputation. Bankers are measured by a standard of their own, and public opinion is never very strict in regard to them. Monsieur de Laisangy is rich, but no one says he has made his money dishonestly. I know nothing of his past, but have never heard a whisper against him, and yet sometimes he inspires me with absolute repulsion."
"My dear Goutran," said Esperance, in that grave, steady voice, which was so like his father's, "I am very young, I know nothing of life, I have never loved, but it seems to me that I could not speak as you have done, if I felt sincerely or deeply. I do not think I could analyze my ambitions so artistically." Esperance now began to speak more rapidly and with emotion. "To love is to give up one's entire being, to live in another. You say that you love, that your lips have touched those of whom you have chosen, and that your heart sank at that same moment. No, you do not love Carmen de Laisangy!"
At this moment both men heard the report of a pistol.
"What is that?" cried Goutran.
"Some crime, I fear," answered his companion.
The two friends forced their way through the underbrush, Esperance a little in advance. Suddenly he beheld in an open space a prostrate form. It was that of a woman. Esperance rushed forward and lifted her from the ground. He uttered a hoarse cry. It was she whose life he had so recently saved—it was Jane Zeld. A small revolver lay at her side.
Esperance, bearing her in his vigorous arms, made his way into the road.