"Monsieur le marquis, allow me to say a word in my own defence.--My faults have been exaggerated. I have committed some faults, I admit; but they are not so serious as you seem to think." "And your debts--will you say that they are a mere trifle? You owe five thousand pistoles at this moment, monsieur." "I do not know, monsieur le marquis, whether you have also been told that I have been stripped clean by that miserable Giovanni, that Italian brigand, who terrorizes all Paris?" "Yes, I have heard of that. But how did you allow yourself to be robbed by that man?" "I venture to believe that my father has no doubt that if I was overcome it was not without a vigorous resistance on my part." "Oh! I do justice to your courage; you would not be my son if you were a coward!" "It was late at night, about a fortnight ago. I was returning home alone and was passing through Rue Couture-Sainte-Catherine. Suddenly this Giovanni appeared before me, and demanded my purse as courteously as if he were inquiring for my health. The robber seemed to me such an original character that I talked with him a few minutes. But when he repeated his demand, I drew my sword. He had some sort of a short, broad weapon. Practised as I am in fighting, that devil of a man dealt me a thrust,--I do not know how to describe it,--and I was beaten. I felt the point of his sword against my breast; but he was content to take my purse, and disappeared as he had come, without giving me time to see which way he went." "If I were lieutenant of police of this realm, that adroit thief would have been hanged before this.--However, monsieur, this Giovanni did not rob you of five thousand pistoles, I imagine?" "No; but I had a considerable sum upon me----" "Which you had won in some hell, I doubt not.--But let us have done, for the subject of this interview is a painful one to both of us. Here, Léodgard, are papers containing a statement of the amount of your debts; here are your obligations to the Jews who are ruining you; here are your receipts for various sums lent you at exorbitant rates, with a view, doubtless, to my death, which does not come quickly enough to supply you with another fortune to squander." "Ah! monsieur le marquis----" "All these papers cost me fifty thousand livres; but I paid it, to save once more your honor, so seriously compromised." A ray of joy lighted up Léodgard's face; he stepped toward the old man, crying: "What, father! you have deigned----" The marquis made a gesture as if to forbid his son to approach, and continued with unabated austerity: