"You are right. God knows what you are doing for your poor brothers. What matters the rest? All my regret is that I have nothing but my zeal to contribute in aid of this most noble institution; it will be, at least, as ardent as your charity is untiring. But what is the matter? You turn pale. Do you suffer?" "A little, M. l'Abbé. This long reading, the emotions caused by your kind words, the indisposition from which I am suffering. Pardon my weakness," said Jacques Ferrand, seating himself as if in pain; "there is nothing serious in it, but I am exhausted." "Perhaps you had better go to bed," said the priest, with an air of lively interest, "and send for your physician?" "I am a physician, M. l'Abbé," said Polidori. "The situation of Ferrand demands great care; I will give him all my attention." The notary shuddered. "A little repose will relieve you, I hope," said the cure. "I leave you; but before I go, I wish to give you a receipt for this money. Come, take courage, be of good cheer!" said the priest, handing the receipt, which he wrote at the desk, to Jacques Ferrand. "Farewell; tomorrow I will call and see you again. Adieu, sir--adieu, my friend, my worthy, pious friend!" The priest went out, and Jacques Ferrand and Polidori remained alone. Hardly had the abbé gone than Jacques Ferrand uttered a terrible imprecation. His despair and rage, so long restrained, burst forth with fury; breathless, his face convulsed, his eyes rolling in their sockets, he walked up and down in the cabinet like a wild beast confined by a chain. Polidori, presenting the greatest composure, observed the notary attentively. "Thunder and blood!" cried Jacques, in a voice choked with rage; "my fortune entirely swallowed up in these stupid good works! I, who despise and execrate men; I, who have only lived to deceive and despoil them; I found philanthropic establishments--to be forced to do it by infernal means! But is it the devil, then, who is your master?" he cried, with fury, stopping abruptly before Polidori. "I have no master," he answered, coldly. "Like you, I have a judge!" "To obey like a fool the orders of this man!" said Jacques Ferrand, with renewed rage. "And this priest, whom I have so often laughed at, because he was the dupe of my hypocrisy; every one of the praises he gave me was like a thrust with a dagger. And to be compelled--" "Or the scaffold, as an alternative." "Oh! not to be able to escape this fatal power! There is more than a million that I have given up. If I have left, with this house a hundred thousand francs, it is the very outside. What more do they want?"