Louis Richard entered, looking gloomy and confused. His heart throbbed violently at the thought that he was perhaps standing in the presence of a happy rival, and like all sincere and candid lovers, he greatly exaggerated the advantages possessed by the man whom he believed had supplanted him in the heart of the woman he loved. This Commander de La Miraudière, draped in his superb damask gown, and occupying magnificent apartments, seemed a most formidable rival, indeed, to poor, modest Louis Richard. "Have I the honor of addressing Monsieur Louis Richard?" said M. de La Miraudière, with his most gracious smile. "Yes, monsieur," replied Louis, simply. "Only son of M. Richard, public scribe?" "My father is a public scribe," returned the young man dryly, believing he detected a slight tone of sarcasm in the last words. "Pardon me for disturbing you," continued the commander, "but it was necessary that I should see you alone. As a private interview seemed impossible in your own home, I requested you to come to me." "And now that I am here, may I inquire what your wishes are?" "My only wish is to serve you, my dear sir, for I would be only too happy to class you as my client." "I!--your client? But who are you, monsieur?" "An old soldier, retired commander, twenty campaigns, ten wounds, and a business man, to while away the hours. I hob-nob with the big capitalists, and frequently serve as intermediary between them and the sons of good families." "Really, I fail to see what service you can render me." "What service, my young friend!--permit an old trooper to give you that title--you ask what service I can render you, a poor notary clerk! You vegetate, you share a wretched attic room with your father, and you are dressed--heaven knows how!" "Monsieur!" cried Louis, flushing with indignation. "My dear young friend, these are facts which I state with regret, with indignation, almost. The devil! a young man like you should spend twenty-five to thirty thousand francs per annum, have horses and mistresses, and enjoy the luxuries of life!" "Is this a jest, monsieur?" asked Louis, haughtily. "If so, I warn you that I am not in the humor to endure it." "Being an old soldier, my young friend, I have already proved my bravery and valor on scores of occasions," remarked M. de La Miraudière, boastfully, "and I can therefore allow your hasty words to pass unnoticed. Moreover, I admit that what I have said must sound very extraordinary to you." "Most extraordinary, indeed!" "Here is something that will convince you that I am speaking seriously, my young friend," went on the braggart, designating the bills before him. "Here are twenty-five thousand francs, which I will be most happy to place at your disposition, that you may establish yourself as a young man of good family; furthermore, you may draw on me for two thousand five hundred francs each month. I offer you these advances for five years; we shall count up later."