He hissed these words, in her ear, for they both spoke very low, impressed, in spite of themselves, by the silence and repose of the house. By the red light of the dying fire he appeared to her suddenly in his true colors, just what he really was, unmasked by one of those violent emotions which show the inner workings of the soul. She saw him with his keen eyes reddened by constant examination of the cards; she thought of all she had sacrificed for this man; she remembered the care with which she had adorned herself for this interview. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by profound disgust for herself and for him, and sank, half-fainting, on the couch; and while the thief crept up the familiar staircase, she buried her face in the pillows to stifle her cries and sobs, and to prevent herself from seeing and hearing anything. The streets of Indret were as dark as at midnight, for it was not yet six o’clock. Here and there a light from a baker’s window or a wine-shop shone dimly through the thick fog. In one of these wineshops sat Chariot and Jack. “Another glass, my boy!” “No more, thank you. I fear it would make me very ill.” Chariot laughed. “And you a Parisian! Waiter, bring more wine!” The boy dared make no farther objection. The attentions of which he was the object flattered him immensely. That this man, who for eighteen months had never vouchsafed him any notice, should, meeting him by chance that morning in the streets, have invited him to the cabaret and treated him, was a matter of surprise and congratulation to himself. At first Jack was somewhat distrustful of such courtesy, for the other had such a singular way of repeating his question, “Is there nothing new at the Rondics? Really, nothing new?” “I wonder,” thought the apprentice, “if he wishes me to carry his letters, instead of Bélisaire!” But after a little while the boy became more at ease. Perhaps Chariot, he thought, may not be such a bad fellow. A good friend might induce him to relinquish play, and make him a better man. After Jack had taken his third glass of wine, he became very cordial, and offered to become this good friend. Chariot accepting the offer with enthusiasm, the boy thought himself justified in at once offering his advice. “Look here, M. Chariot, listen to me, and don’t play any more.” The blow struck home, for the young man’s lips trembled nervously, and he swallowed a glass of brandy at one gulp. At that moment the factory-bell sounded. “I must go,” cried Jack, starting to his feet. And, as his friend had paid for the first and second wine they had drank, he considered it essential that he should now pay in his turn; so he drew a louis from his pocket, and tossed it on the table. “Hallo! a yellow boy!” said the barkeeper, unaccustomed to seeing such in the possession of apprentices. Chariot started, but made no remark.