"In business, sir," said he, "one has no friends, only correspondents."
"It is true," murmured the Englishman; "then you have but one hope."
"But one."
"The last?"
"The last."
"So that if this fail ———"
"I am ruined, — completely ruined!"
"As I came here, a vessel was entering the port."
"I know it, sir; a young man, who still adheres to my fallen fortunes, passes a part of his time in a belvidere at the top of the house, in hopes of being the first to announce good news to me: he has informed me of the entrance of this ship."
"And it is not yours?"
"No, it is a vessel of Bordeaux, La Gironde; it comes from India also; but it is not mine."
"Perhaps it has spoken the Pharaon, and brings you some tidings of it?"
"Shall I tell you plainly one thing, sir? I dread almost as much to receive any tidings of my vessel as to remain in doubt. Incertitude is still hope." Then in a low voice Morrel added:
"This delay is not natural. The Pharaon left Calcutta the 5th of February; it ought to have been here a month ago."
"What is that?" said the Englishman, listening.
"What is the meaning of that noise?"
"O my God!" cried Morrel, turning pale, "what is this?"
A loud noise was heard on the stairs, of people moving hastily, and half-stifled sobs. Morrel rose and advanced to the door; but his strength failed him, and he sank into a chair. The two men remained opposite one another, — Morrel trembling in every limb, the stranger gazing at him with an air of profound pity. The noise had ceased; but it seemed that Morrel expected something — something had occasioned the noise, and something must follow. The stranger fancied he heard footsteps on the stairs; and that the steps, which were those of several persons, stopped at the door. A key was inserted in the lock of the first door, and the creaking of hinges was audible.
"There are only two persons who have the key of the door," murmured Morrel, — "Cocles and Julie."
At this instant the second door opened, and the young girl, her eyes bathed with tears, appeared. Morrel rose tremblingly, supporting himself by the arm of the chair. He would have spoken, but his voice failed him.
