The magistrate looked at Eusebe attentively. His dress, which was more than plain, his manner of expressing himself, his timidity, his gestures, and even the belt that contained his treasure, puzzled the functionary in a manner which he did not try to conceal. This honorable magistrate, who by years of experience in his profession had learned to form a tolerably correct opinion of men at a glance, was at a loss to know what to think of the singular being he had before him. The clerk, who imagined what was passing in the brain of the commissary, was as much perplexed as his superior. Nevertheless, as a murmur of applause and some words in favor of the young stranger ran through the circle, the worthy functionary thought the time propitious for ventilating his ideas in a short discourse. Addressing himself now to the crowd, and now to Eusebe, he was thus delivered:-- “If it is beautiful and rare to find presence of mind and reason united in youth, it is certainly not less honorable to add to these qualities philanthropy. Not only did you wish to save this man (and you have saved him), but you now desire to assure the existence he owes you. This I call sublime. Such acts, sir, do so great honor to their author that our thanks would be out of place: he finds his reward in his heart. What recompense is to be compared to the consciousness of having been a benefactor? Allow me, sir, to ask your name, in order that I may send it in to the Administration, which knows how to appreciate such disinterestedness.” “My name is Eusebe Martin.” “Are you a relation of M. Martin, of the Tribunal of Commerce?” “I think not. I have just arrived from Limousin. I know no one in Paris.” “You are quite young.” “Twenty-one.” “I am glad of it; for were you not of age I could not accept your gift.” “I don’t know,” said Eusebe. The commissary looked at the clerk with astonishment. “You have a trade?” “No. I came to Paris to admire civilization and study life.” “Study life!” said the clerk, who was inclined to be humorous. “He is not a physician.” The magistrate was lost in conjectures. “What is your father’s business?” he inquired. “My father, sir, lives at the Capelette. His chief employment is to seek where truth and falsehood are to be found.” “Be so kind as to accompany me,” said the functionary, dryly, making a sign to the crowd to stand aside and let them pass. Eusebe bowed without replying, and walked along beside the commissary, which allowed him to hear the clerk say to his superior,-- “The poor fellow is stark mad.” To which the magistrate replied,-- “That is very evident.” Eusebe felt the blood mount to his cheeks, not from fear, but from shame. He thought they took him for a fool because he was so ignorant. This unexpected departure was interpreted in different ways by the curious, who had not heard the dialogue. “They are going to give him the _cross_,” (of the Legion of Honor,) said a naïve policeman.