"Well, then, hark ye. Will you, for a day or two, make shift with my crib? I may meet with some decent sort of people, who, not knowing who you really are, would receive you as a boarder; and we might say you were a confirmed invalid, and required great care and perfect retirement. Now I think of it, there is a person of my acquaintance, living at Port St. Nicolas, has a mother, a very worthy woman, but in humble circumstances, residing at St. Mandé: very likely she would be glad to take charge of you. What do you say,--will you come or not?" "One may trust you, Chourineur. I am not at all fearful of going, money and all, to your place; happily you have kept yourself honest, amidst all the evil example others have set you." "Ay, and even bore the taunts and jests you used to heap upon me, because I would not turn prig like yourself." "Alas! who could foresee?" "Now, you see, if I had listened to you, instead of trying to be of real service to you, I should clean you out of all your cash." "True, true. But you are a downright good fellow, and have neither malice nor hatred in your heart," said the unhappy Schoolmaster, in a tone of deep dejection and humility. "You are a vast deal better to me than, I fear, I should have been to you under the same circumstances." "I believe you, too. Why, M. Rodolph himself told me I had both heart and honour." "But who the devil is this M. Rodolph?" exclaimed the Schoolmaster, breaking out fresh at the mention of his name. "He is not a man; he is a monster,--a fiend,--a--" "Hold, hold!" cried the Chourineur. "Now you are going to have another fit, which is bad for you and very disagreeable to me, because it makes you abuse my friends. Come, are you ready? Shall we set forth on our journey?" "We are going to your lodging, are we not, Chourineur?" "Yes, yes, if you are agreeable." "And you swear to me that you bear me no ill-will for the events of the last twelve hours?" "Swear it? Of course I swear it. Why, I have no ill-will against you nor anybody." "And you are certain that he (the man, I mean) is not dead?" "I am as sure of it as that I am living myself." "That will at least give me one crime the less to answer for. If they only knew--And that little old man of the Rue du Roule--and that woman of the Canal St. Martin--But it is useless thinking of all those things now; I have enough to occupy my thoughts without trying to recall past misfortunes. Blind! blind!" repeated the miserable wretch, as, leaning on the arm of the Chourineur, he slowly took his departure from the house in the Allée des Veuves. CHAPTER XVIII. THE ISLE-ADAM. A month has elapsed since the occurrence of the events we have just narrated. We now conduct the reader into the little town of the Isle-Adam, situated in a delightful locality on the banks of the Oise, and at the foot of a forest.