'To France. To Paris for one year. In five years I shall be home again, and I mean to bring with me two or three cabinets of minerals, worth thousands of dollars apiece.'
Cromwell's eyes flashed; they fell on Scheffer, who stood silent, motionless, a cold shiver running over him from his head to his feet.
'What, then, brave fellow?' asked August. It was well to know the worst, and Harry seemed to be in a communicative mood.
'Why, what are you working for?'
'Because I've nothing else to do,' said Scheffer, with a shrug. 'I hate to be idle.'
'No; you are making your fortune; you'll have a house and a family some day. It's written, a hundred girls would think the chance beyond their desert; or they might think so.'
'Yes; well—I don't want a hundred girls.'
'Nor one, I suppose.'
Behind this idle talk the gravest and sharpest scrutiny was bestowed by each man on his fellow. Both were thinking of Josephine, but neither would name her.
'You're a philosopher, Paul says,' continued Cromwell. 'Paul is always talking about you. I don't like to leave that boy; but knowing that you are his friend should make me comfortable. Beside, I couldn't do anything for the lad, if he stood in need of a ten-penny bit.'