This was the plaint that was often on Florentin's lips. Although he had never been a gambler--and for sufficient reason--in his eyes everything was decided by luck. There are those who are born under a lucky star, others under an unlucky one. There are those who, in the battle of life, receive knocks without being discouraged, because they expect something the next day, as there are those who become discouraged because they expect nothing, and know by experience that tomorrow will be for them what today is, what yesterday was. And Florentin was one of these. "Why did I not stay in America?" he said. "Because you were too unhappy, my poor boy!" Madame Cormier said, whose maternal heart was moved by this cry. "Am I happier here, or shall I be to-morrow? What does this to-morrow, full of uncertainty and dangers, hold for us?" "Why do you insist that it has only dangers?" Phillis asked, in a conciliating and caressing tone. "You always expect the good." "At least I hope for it, and do not admit deliberately that it is impossible. I do not say that life is always rose-colored, but neither is it always black. I believe it is like the seasons. After winter, which is vile, I confess, come the spring, summer, and autumn." "Well, if I had the money necessary for the voyage, I would go and pass the end of the winter in a country where it would be less disagreeable than here, and, above all, less dangerous for my constitution." "You do not say that seriously, I hope?" cried Madame Cormier. "On the contrary, very seriously." "We are hardly reunited, and you think of a separation," she said, sadly. "It is not of a separation that Florentin thinks," cried Phillis, "but of a flight." "And why not?" "Because only the guilty fly." "It is exactly the contrary. The intelligent criminals stay, and, as generally they are resolute men, they know beforehand that they are able to face the danger; while the innocent, timid like myself, or the unlucky, lose their heads and fly, because they know beforehand, also, that if a danger threatens them, it will crush them. That is why I would return to America if I could pay my passage; at least I should feel easy there." There was a moment of silence, during which each one seemed to have no thought but to finish dinner. "Granting that this project is not likely," Florentin said, "I have another idea." "Why do you have ideas?" Phillis asked. "I wish you were in my place; we should see if you would not have them." "I assure you that I am in your place, and that your trouble is mine, only it does not betray itself in the same manner. But what is your idea?" "It is to find Valerius and tell him all." "And who will answer to us for Valerius's discretion?" asked Madame Cormier. "Would it not be the greatest imprudence that you could commit? One cannot play with a secret of this importance." "Valerius is an honest man."