He had plunged an innocent
man into the abyss; and he must draw him out, he alone, if no one would
help him. Old Tabaret, as well as the magistrate, was greatly fatigued.
On reaching the open air, he perceived that he, too, was in want of
food. The emotions of the day had prevented him from feeling hungry;
and, since the previous evening, he had not even taken a glass of water.
He entered a restaurant on the Boulevard, and ordered dinner.
While eating, not only his courage, but also his confidence came
insensibly back to him. It was with him, as with the rest of mankind;
who knows how much one's ideas may change, from the beginning to the
end of a repast, be it ever so modest! A philosopher has plainly
demonstrated that heroism is but an affair of the stomach.
The old fellow looked at the situation in a much less sombre light. He
had plenty of time before him! A clever man could accomplish a great
deal in a month! Would his usual penetration fail him now? Certainly
not. His great regret was, his inability to let Albert know that some
one was working for him.
He was entirely another man, as he rose from the table; and it was with
a sprightly step that he walked towards the Rue St.
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