"'Precisely.'

"I went at that, leaving the Countess sitting by her husband's
bedside, shedding hot tears. Gobseck followed me. Outside in the
street I separated from him, but he came after me, flung me one of
those searching glances with which he probed men's minds, and said in
the husky flute-tones, pitched in a shriller key:

"'Do you take it upon yourself to judge me?'



"From that time forward we saw little of each other. Gobseck let the
Count's mansion on lease; he spent the summers on the country estates.
He was a lord of the manor in earnest, putting up farm buildings,
repairing mills and roadways, and planting timber. I came across him
one day in a walk in the Jardin des Tuileries.

"'The Countess is behaving like a heroine,' said I; 'she gives
herself up entirely to the children's education; she is giving them a
perfect bringing up. The oldest boy is a charming young fellow----'

"'That is possible.'

"'But ought you not to help Ernest?' I suggested.

"'Help him!' cried Gobseck. 'Not I. Adversity is the greatest of all
teachers; adversity teaches us to know the value of money and the
worth of men and women. Let him set sail on the seas of Paris; when he
is a qualified pilot, we will give him a ship to steer.'