Two days later the former business agent was back in Paris, armed with the well-filled wallet which his godfather had bequeathed to him. It had all come so suddenly and been done so quickly that, when he was in his own rooms once more, Chamoureau wondered if he were not the plaything of a dream, and if he had really become rich. But the rotund wallet was in his hands; he could feel and count the bank-notes, the government obligations, and several drafts accepted by the richest bankers in Paris. Thereupon he said to himself:
"No, I am not dreaming; I am really in possession of a very respectable fortune; therefore I may aspire to the woman whom I idolize. I must not delay; my fate must be decided at once."
He seated himself at his desk and wrote:
"Madame:
"It is no longer a humble real estate agent who lays his heart and his hand at your feet; my position has changed. An inheritance which I was far from expecting, but of which I have just come into possession, gives me an income of twenty thousand francs, in addition to twenty-five hundred which I already had.—I do not refer to my business, which I have abandoned.—I am therefore possessed of twenty-two thousand five hundred francs a year. This fortune I place at your disposal, soliciting anew the title of your husband, which I should be proud to bear.
"If I have offended you, forgive me; I was absolutely innocent in the affair of the Champs-Elysées, where I went confident of my good fortune, and no less deceived than yourself. But since I have known you, my love for you has never diminished; on the contrary, it has grown greater and greater every day. I will not ask any questions concerning the past, and I shall always have the blindest confidence with respect to the present and the future. I await your reply."
Having signed this letter, Chamoureau went out and gave it to a messenger in whom he had confidence.
"Ten francs for you," he said, "if you bring me an answer. If she says that she will write, insist, implore her to give you a line on the spot. I will wait for you in this café, where I shall absorb much chartreuse, to give me patience and courage."
Since the adventure on the Champs-Elysées, the fair Thélénie's humor was uniformly morose; sometimes she passed whole days absorbed in her thoughts. Her friend Héloïse's society had not the power to divert her, and when that young woman said to her:
"Do you mean to pass your whole life regretting that little fellow?"