Paul heaved a sigh, and, thinking that he might have a long while to wait in the library, concluded that he would do no harm by opening one of the books which were before him; so he put out his hand and took the volume that was nearest him. It was La Rochefoucauld's _Maximes_; he resumed his seat, and began to read it with avidity. He had been in the library quite a long while, but he was still reading, and the time passed very quickly. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and, turning his head, saw Monsieur Vermoncey, who said to him with a smile: "Ah! I have caught you." The young man blushed, and hastily rose to his feet. "Pray forgive me, monsieur," he faltered, "for presuming to take down one of those books; but I had to wait--and I thought that--that----" "There is no occasion to apologize, my friend; you have done no wrong. On the contrary, it is greatly to your credit that you are fond of reading. What book have you there?" "La Rochefoucauld's _Maximes_." "That is rather a serious work; what do you think of it?" "What he says is very sad, and does not give one a very high opinion of men. But I'm afraid it is true." Monsieur Vermoncey looked at Paul in amazement. "Really, my friend," he said, "you are no common messenger; I have noticed already that you express yourself in much better language than most of those in your station, and now your opinion of this book proves that I was not mistaken; you have had a good education, have you not?" "Yes, monsieur; an excellent man, who had no children, became interested in me and took me into his family when I was hardly ten years old. He was kind enough to send me to school; and I was so happy not to remain ignorant, that I made the most of the instruction that was given me." "How does it happen that your patron, having given you an education, allowed you to become a messenger? He should have completed his work and found you a place." "Ah! monsieur, it was not that excellent man's fault. He took me into his own office as clerk; but at his death I lost everything, place and patron. It was then that I became a messenger; it was necessary for me to earn money." "To assist your parents, I suppose?" Paul lowered his eyes, and murmured very low: "Yes, monsieur; it was for them." "I understand you now!" cried Monsieur Vermoncey; "you are a good son; you sacrificed your hopes, your future, to what you considered the duty of making yourself useful at once to those who gave you life. Poor fellow! your conduct is very noble. But you must leave a trade which is not for such as you. Yes; I will undertake to find you an honorable and lucrative position." "Oh! monsieur--such kindness!" "Why, it is not more than justice. Anyone can see that you ought not to be a messenger. Do you know how to write?" "Yes, monsieur; my handwriting is not very bad; I know how to figure also."