He
paid Messieurs de Trailles and d'Ajuda, played at whist for part of
the evening, and made good his losses. Most men who have their way to
make are more or less of fatalists, and Eugene was superstitious; he
chose to consider that his luck was heaven's reward for his
perseverance in the right way. As soon as possible on the following
morning he asked Vautrin whether the bill he had given was still in
the other's possession; and on receiving a reply in the affirmative,
he repaid the three thousand francs with a not unnatural relief.
"Everything is going on well," said Vautrin.
"But I am not your accomplice," said Eugene.
"I know, I know," Vautrin broke in. "You are still acting like a
child. You are making mountains out of molehills at the outset."
Two days later, Poiret and Mlle. Michonneau were sitting together on a
bench in the sun. They had chosen a little frequented alley in the
Jardin des Plantes, and a gentleman was chatting with them, the same
person, as a matter of fact, about whom the medical student had, not
without good reason, his own suspicions.
"Mademoiselle," this M. Gondureau was saying, "I do not see any cause
for your scruples.
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