While he was thus engaged, his servant entered, and announced: "M. Richard." "Ask M. Richard to wait in the drawing-room a moment. When I ring, show him in." As soon as the servant left the room, M. de la Miraudière opened a secret drawer in his desk, and took out twenty-five one thousand franc notes, and placed them beside a sheet of the stamped paper used for legal documents of divers kinds, then rang the bell. Louis entered, with a gloomy and perturbed air. His heart throbbed violently at the thought that he was, perhaps, in the presence of a favoured rival, for this poor fellow, like sincere lovers in general, greatly exaggerated the advantages which his competitor possessed, so M. de la Miraudière, wrapped in a handsome dressing-gown, and occupying an elegant suite of apartments, seemed a very formidable rival indeed. "Is it to M. Louis Richard that I have the honour of speaking?" inquired M. de la Miraudière, with his most ingratiating smile. "Yes, monsieur." "The only son of M. Richard, the scrivener?" These last words were uttered with a rather sarcastic air. Louis noted the fact, and responded, dryly: "Yes, monsieur, my father is a scrivener." "Excuse me, my dear sir, for having given you so much trouble, but it was absolutely necessary that I should talk with you alone, and as that seemed well-nigh impossible at your own home, I was obliged to ask you to take the trouble to call here." "May I ask why you wished to see me, monsieur?" "Merely to offer you my services, my dear M. Richard," replied M. de la Miraudière in an insinuating tone. "For it would give me great pleasure to be able to call you my client." "Your client? Why, who are you, monsieur?" "An old soldier, now on the retired list,--twenty campaigns, ten wounds,--now a man of affairs, merely to pass away the time. I have a number of large capitalists as backers, and I often act as an intermediary between them and young men of prospective wealth." "Then I do not know of any service you can render me." "You say that, when you are leading a life of drudgery as a notary's clerk, when you are vegetating--positively vegetating--living in a miserable attic with your father, and dressed, Heaven knows how!" "Monsieur!" exclaimed Louis, fairly purple with indignation. "Excuse me, my young friend, but these are, I regret to say, the real facts of the case, shameful as they appear. Why, a young man like you ought to be spending twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year, ought to have his horses and mistresses and enjoy life generally." "Monsieur, if this is intended as a joke, I warn you that I am in no mood for it," said Louis, angrily. "As I have already told you, I am an old soldier who has proved his valour on many a well-fought field, my young friend, so I can afford not to take offence at your manner, for which there is plenty of excuse, I must admit, as what I am saying must seem rather extraordinary to you." "Very extraordinary, monsieur."