Happily for
him, his astonishing reserve did not excite the curiosity of the
fashionable world, and was only discussed in the demi-mondaine
regions.
Two weeks later the handsome circus-rider, crippled by debt, wrote the
following letter to Comte Paz, which, having fallen into the hands of
Comte Adam, was read by several of the dandies of the day, who
pronounced it a masterpiece:--
"You, whom I still dare to call my friend, will you not pity me
after all that has passed,--which you have so ill understood? My
heart disavows whatever may have wounded your feelings. If I was
fortunate enough to charm you and keep you beside me in the past,
return to me; otherwise, I shall fall into despair. Poverty has
overtaken me, and you do not know what HORRID THINGS it brings
with it. Yesterday I lived on a herring at two sous, and one sou
of bread. Is that a breakfast for the woman you loved? The
Chapuzots have left me, though they seemed so devoted. Your
desertion has caused me to see to the bottom of all human
attachments. The dog we feed does not leave us, but the Chapuzots
have gone. A sheriff has seized everything on behalf of the
landlord, who has no heart, and the jeweller, who refused to wait
even ten days,--for when we lose the confidence of such as you,
credit goes too.
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