"I owe the sum of four hundred and sixty-eight thousand francs. Oh! what a miserable wretch I am! "When I found that the smash was inevitable I went mad, and entered my room with the intention of putting an end to my wretched existence. But more sober thoughts prevailed: I changed my mind. I had heard that officers were being recruited for Tonquin, and I determined to volunteer for this service. My suicide would not have bettered matters; it would rather have left an added blot upon our family name. Out there, at all events, my death may be of use; it will cause you no shame, and may perhaps move you to a little compassion for your guilty, but most unhappy and despairing son, who suffers agonies at thought of the trouble he has brought upon you, and who now bids you an eternal farewell! "CAMILLE SAUVALLIER." Mons. Sauvallier, who had been a widower for several years past, was one of the most respected business-men of Paris, the owner of a foundry, a judge of the Tribunal of Commerce, and an officer of the Legion of Honour. He had two sons: Camille, the lieutenant: and August, an artist of some originality, who was the husband of a charming wife, and the father of a little six-year-old maiden named Andrée. Mons. Sauvallier had always deterred his sons from embarking in trade. He had shrunk from exposing them to the ups and downs of business life, its trying fluctuations, its frequent cruel mischances. He had arranged that at his death his estate should be realized: he did not wish the business to be sold outright, in case it should pass into the hands of strangers who might sully the hitherto unblemished name of Sauvallier. And now, in spite of all his precautions, a disaster greater than any he had dreamed of had overwhelmed him. [Illustration: "HE ROSE WITH DIFFICULTY."] Leaning back wearily in his arm-chair, with haggard eyes he re-read his son's letter, in order to assure himself that he was not dreaming. Yes! It was too true! Camille had ruined, perhaps dishonoured, him! It seemed as though the objects that surrounded him--the very walls and furniture--were no longer the same! As one staggering beneath a too heavy burden, he rose with difficulty, his limbs stiff, yet his whole frame agitated; then he sank back into his chair, with two big tears flowing down his cheeks. By hook or by crook he _must_ procure the sum, and the debt should be paid to-morrow. It would be a difficult task. The wealth of the manufacturer consists of material and merchandise. Would so hurried a realization yield the necessary amount? He could not tell. Again, when this debt was paid, would he be able to fulfil his engagements? Bankruptcy stared him in the face. A Sauvallier bankrupt? An officer of the Legion of Honour, a judge of the Tribunal of Commerce, insolvent? Never! He would die first! But before it came to that, he would try every expedient: he would strain every nerve.