Alain took up the letter thus singled forth from a miscellany of epistles, some in female handwritings, unsealed but ingeniously twisted into Gordian knots--some also in female handwritings, carefully sealed-- others in ill-looking envelopes, addressed in bold, legible, clerk-like caligraphy. Taken altogether, these epistles had a character in common; they betokened the correspondence of a _viveur_, regarded from the female side as young, handsome, well-born--on the male side, as a _viveur_ who had forgotten to pay his hosier and tailor. Louvier wrote a small, not very intelligible, but very masculine hand, as most men who think cautiously and act promptly do write. The letter ran thus: "_Cher petit Marquis_" (at that commencement Alain haughtily raised his head and bit his lips). "_CHER PETIT MARQUIS_,--It is an age since I have seen you. No doubt my humble soirees are too dull for a _beau seigueur_ so courted. I forgive you. Would I were a beau seigneur at your age! Alas! I am only a commonplace man of business, growing old, too. Aloft from the world in which I dwell, you can scarcely be aware that I have embarked a great part of my capital in building speculations. There is a Rue de Louvier that runs its drains right through my purse. I am obliged to call in the moneys due to me. My agent informs me that I am just 7000 louis short of the total I need--all other debts being paid in--and that there is a trifle more than 7000 louis owned to me as interest on my hypotheque on Rochebriant: kindly pay into his hands before the end of this week that sum. You have been too lenient to Collot, who must owe you more than that. Send agent to him. _Desole_ to trouble you, and am au _desespoir_ to think that my own pressing necessities compel me to urge you to take so much trouble. _Mais que faire_? The Rue de Louvier stops the way, and I must leave it to my agent to clear it. "Accept all my excuses, with the assurance of my sentiments the most cordial. PAUL LOUVIER." Alain tossed the letter to De Finisterre. "Read that from the best fellow in the world." The Chevalier laid down his cigarette and read. "_Diable_!" he said, when he returned the letter and resumed the cigarette--"_Diable_! Louvier must be much pressed for money, or he would not have written in this strain. What does it matter? Collot owes you more than 7000 louis. Let your lawyer get them, and go to sleep with both ears on your pillow." "Ah! you think Collot can pay if he will?" "_Ah! foi_! did not M. Gandrin tell you that M. Collot was safe to buy your wood at more money than any one else would give?" "Certainly," said Alain, comforted. "Gandrin left that impression on my mind. I will set him on the man. All will come right, I dare say; but if it does not come right, what would Louvier do?"