That was to be the future! The awakening of the man in him was complete. By an abrupt mastercoup he would wrench himself away from the influences that had well-nigh reduced him to a puppet. His reply to Miss Brooke now would be the beginning of the necessary forward impulse. "The idea has not come to me, though, of course, I should have had to consider the question of a formal course before very long. But I like the suggestion very much." "Lots of the boys take the course there," added Miss Brooke. "There are, of course, many more American than English boys, but you'll find them all a sociable set." He asked for details about the student life, and Miss Brooke tried to give him some notion of it. In this way quite half an hour slipped by, during which Paul became worked up to a high pitch of enthusiasm and took care to leave no doubt in Miss Brooke's mind that his decision was finally taken. "Charlie, too, might be useful to you," said Miss Brooke, as Paul rose to take his leave. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to be of service to you. And how nice, too, if we were to meet there again! Perhaps we shall." Her face gleamed as with the pleasure of anticipation. "I shall always bear the hope with me," said Paul gravely; and, wishing her a pleasant crossing, he bade her "good-bye." "Let us say '_Au revoir_' rather," and once again she pressed his hand, which was more than he had dared hope for. But what had "Charlie" to do with Miss Brooke? he asked himself a thousand times that evening. CHAPTER IV. A MONTH later--about the beginning of June--Paul had entered the Ecole des Beaux Arts as a student of architecture. Not to have succeeded in tearing himself away would have been to lose all self-respect. He had determined to justify himself to himself, to prove he had a will he need not be ashamed of. Thus it was that his astonished mother and a favourite uncle--Celia's guardian--who both had a good deal to say about Paris and its temptations, expended their speech to no purpose. Paul entered into his student life with zest, working hard and conscientiously in a very methodical fashion. He allowed himself, however, plenty of time for enjoying the city; going to the theatres, and peeping into all the show places, and hunting up curios at old shops, and lounging and playing billiards at the cafes, and drinking beer _al fresco_ on the boulevards. Occasionally he rode in the Bois, or made excursions up and down the Seine, and into the neighbouring country--mostly, of course, in company, for he soon struck acquaintance with some of the men, many of whom he found had to manage on very little money. So he said nothing about his own easy circumstances, rather enjoying the two-franc seat at the theatre and the fifteen-centime ride on the tops of tramcars. When he wanted expensive amusement he went alone.