“It is from grief.”
“Have you been unfortunate?”
“Yes.”
“The cause? You have talent, love art, and are persevering.”
“As for talent, I no longer possess it. Art I despise, since I see fame bestowed upon fellows without merit. As for my strength, it vanished with Virginie,—a girl who left me to follow a waiter of a café.”
“Did you love the girl?” asked Eusebe, with an air of surprise.
“She was all that remained to console me. There is no denying that I was attached to her. But, tell me, how do you come on?”
“I fight to-morrow.”
“Ah!”
Eusebe then related to his friend all that had occurred to him since they had seen one another. At the conclusion, he said,—