"Oh! I asked you that just for the sake of talking, that is all. Is your father still alive?"
"To be sure he is."
"But he isn’t in this region?"
"No, he is in Paris. Did you ever serve in his regiment?"
"No; not in his regiment exactly; but I did serve in the army once."
"You have defended your country, and now you are unfortunate and a vagrant!" cried Alfred. "Oh! forgive me, monsieur! I spoke to you rather hastily just now; I am a thoughtless fellow; I often make mistakes and am sorry for them afterward; but Edouard will tell you that my heart is in the right place. Come, prove that you bear me no grudge by accepting this purse, and let me have the pleasure of helping an old soldier."
As he spoke, Alfred handed the traveller a purse filled with gold; he glared at it with covetous eyes, but still his hand repulsed the hand that was held out to him, and he answered with something like bitterness in his tone:
"No, I don’t want your money; I am not in need of anything."
"You refuse me," said Alfred; "I see, you bear me ill will for my hasty speech of a moment ago. Well! as you have known my father, I offer you this trifling sum in his name."
"In his name!" cried the stranger; and his eye gleamed with repressed rage. But soon, seeming to obtain control of himself, he continued: