"Here, my friend," he said, "accept this from me. What you have done for me to-day cannot be paid for, I know; for I have found in you what we often seek in vain among people who claim to be our friends: a man who understood my distress, who shared it, and who did everything in his power to relieve it. And it was not selfish interest that guided you; no, it was your heart alone; for I saw tears of joy fall from your eyes when you perceived my son in the distance. You are kind-hearted and susceptible to noble sentiments; you must be a worthy fellow and a blessing to your parents; take this as a souvenir of this day."
Paul was deeply moved and could hardly make out to say, in faltering tones:
"But this is too much, monsieur; I was paid beforehand—I do not want any more; I am so happy to have been useful to you."
Monsieur Vermoncey took the young man's hand, and, while pressing it affectionately, placed the money in it.
"Come, come! accept it as a favor to me; you will grieve me if you refuse. Take the money to your mother, so that she too may be happy to-day."
Paul lowered his eyes without replying, and Monsieur Vermoncey continued:
"By the way, my friend, where is your stand?"
"Rue du Helder, monsieur, at the corner of the boulevard. Monsieur your son knows me very well."
"Are you his regular messenger?"
"No, monsieur; but my comrade Sans-Cravate is; his stand is—not far from mine."