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      Other People's Money, by Emile Gaboriau
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</pre>
    <h1>
      OTHER PEOPLE&rsquo;S MONEY
    </h1>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      by Emile Gaboriau
    </h2>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      CONTENTS
    </h2>
    <p>
      <a href="#linkpart1">PART I.</a><br /> <br /> <a href="#linkpart2">PART II.</a>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /><a name="linkpart1" id="linkpart1"></a> <br />
    </p>
    <h1>
      PART I
    </h1>
    <h2>
      I
    </h2>
    <p>
      There is not, perhaps, in all Paris, a quieter street than the Rue St.
      Gilles in the Marais, within a step of the Place Royale.&nbsp; No
      carriages there; never a crowd.&nbsp; Hardly is the silence broken by the
      regulation drums of the Minims Barracks near by, by the chimes of the
      Church of St. Louis, or by the joyous clamors of the pupils of the Massin
      School during the hours of recreation.
    </p>
    <p>
      At night, long before ten o&rsquo;clock, and when the Boulevard Beaumarchais is
      still full of life, activity, and noise, every thing begins to close.&nbsp;
      One by one the lights go out, and the great windows with diminutive panes
      become dark.&nbsp; And if, after midnight, some belated citizen passes on
      his way home, he quickens his step, feeling lonely and uneasy, and
      apprehensive of the reproaches of his concierge, who is likely to ask him
      whence he may be coming at so late an hour.
    </p>
    <p>
      In such a street, every one knows each other: houses have no mystery;
      families, no secrets,&#8212;a small town, where idle curiosity has always
      a corner of the veil slyly raised, where gossip flourishes as rankly as
      the grass on the street.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus on the afternoon of the 27th of April, 1872 (a Saturday), a fact
      which anywhere else might have passed unnoticed was attracting particular
      attention.
    </p>
    <p>
      A man some thirty years of age, wearing the working livery of servants of
      the upper class,&#8212;the long striped waistcoat with sleeves, and the
      white linen apron,&#8212;was going from door to door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who can the man be looking for?&#8221; wondered the idle neighbors,
      closely watching his evolutions.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was not looking for any one.&nbsp; To such as he spoke to, he stated
      that he had been sent by a cousin of his, an excellent cook, who, before
      taking a place in the neighborhood, was anxious to have all possible
      information on the subject of her prospective masters.&nbsp; And then,
      &#8220;Do you know M. Vincent Favoral?&#8221; he would ask.
    </p>
    <p>
      Concierges and shop-keepers knew no one better; for it was more than a
      quarter of a century before, that M. Vincent Favoral, the day after his
      wedding, had come to settle in the Rue St. Gilles; and there his two
      children were born,&#8212;his son M. Maxence, his daughter Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      He occupied the second story of the house.&nbsp; No. 38,&#8212;one of
      those old-fashioned dwellings, such as they build no more, since ground is
      sold at twelve hundred francs the square metre; in which there is no
      stinting of space.&nbsp; The stairs, with wrought iron balusters, are wide
      and easy, and the ceilings twelve feet high.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course, we know M. Favoral,&#8221; answered every one to the
      servant&rsquo;s questions; &#8220;and, if there ever was an honest man, why, he
      is certainly the one.&nbsp; There is a man whom you could trust with your
      funds, if you had any, without fear of his ever running off to Belgium
      with them.&#8221;&nbsp; And it was further explained, that M. Favoral was
      chief cashier, and probably, also, one of the principal stockholders, of
      the Mutual Credit Society, one of those admirable financial institutions
      which have sprung up with the second empire, and which had won at the
      bourse the first installment of their capital, the very day that the game
      of the Coup d&rsquo;Etat was being played in the street.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know well enough the gentleman&rsquo;s business,&#8221; remarked the
      servant; &#8220;but what sort of a man is he?&nbsp; That&rsquo;s what my cousin
      would like to know.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The wine-man at No. 43, the oldest shop-keeper in the street, could best
      answer.&nbsp; A couple of <i>petits-verres</i> politely offered soon
      started his tongue; and, whilst sipping his Cognac:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Vincent Favoral,&#8221; he began, &#8220;is a man some
      fifty-two or three years old, but who looks younger, not having a single
      gray hair.&nbsp; He is tall and thin, with neatly-trimmed whiskers, thin
      lips, and small yellow eyes; not talkative.&nbsp; It takes more ceremony
      to get a word from his throat than a dollar from his pocket.&nbsp; &#8216;Yes,&#8217;
      &#8216;no,&#8217; &#8216;good-morning,&#8217; &#8216;good-evening;&#8217;
      that&rsquo;s about the extent of his conversation.&nbsp; Summer and winter, he
      wears gray pantaloons, a long frock-coat, laced shoes, and lisle-thread
      gloves.&nbsp; &lsquo;Pon my word, I should say that he is still wearing the very
      same clothes I saw upon his back for the first time in 1845, did I not
      know that he has two full suits made every year by the concierge at No.
      29, who is also a tailor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, he must be an old miser,&#8221; muttered the servant.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is above all peculiar,&#8221; continued the shop-keeper, &#8220;like
      most men of figures, it seems.&nbsp; His own life is ruled and regulated
      like the pages of his ledger.&nbsp; In the neighborhood they call him Old
      Punctuality; and, when he passes through the Rue Turenne, the merchants
      set their watches by him.&nbsp; Rain or shine, every morning of the year,
      on the stroke of nine, he appears at the door on the way to his office.&nbsp;
      When he returns, you may be sure it is between twenty and twenty-five
      minutes past five.&nbsp; At six he dines; at seven he goes to play a game
      of dominoes at the Caf&eacute; Turc; at ten he comes home and goes to bed;
      and, at the first stroke of eleven at the Church of St. Louis, out goes
      his candle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Hem!&#8221; grumbled the servant with a look of contempt, &#8220;the
      question is, will my cousin be willing to live with a man who is a sort of
      walking clock?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It isn&rsquo;t always pleasant,&#8221; remarked the wine-man; &#8220;and
      the best evidence is, that the son, M. Maxence, got tired of it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He does not live with his parents any more?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He dines with them; but he has his own lodgings on the Boulevard du
      Temple.&nbsp; The falling-out made talk enough at the time; and some
      people do say that M. Maxence is a worthless scamp, who leads a very
      dissipated life; but I say that his father kept him too close.&nbsp; The
      boy is twenty-five, quite good looking, and has a very stylish mistress:&nbsp;
      I have seen her. . . .&nbsp; I would have done just as he did.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what about the daughter, Mlle. Gilberte?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is not married yet, although she is past twenty, and pretty as
      a rosebud.&nbsp; After the war, her father tried to make her marry a
      stock-broker, a stylish man who always came in a two-horse carriage; but
      she refused him outright.&nbsp; I should not be a bit surprised to hear
      that she has some love-affair of her own.&nbsp; I have noticed lately a
      young gentleman about here who looks up quite suspiciously when he goes by
      No. 38.&#8221;&nbsp; The servant did not seem to find these particulars
      very interesting.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s the lady,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that my cousin would like to
      know most about.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Naturally.&nbsp; Well, you can safely tell her that she never will
      have had a better mistress.&nbsp; Poor Madame Favoral!&nbsp; She must have
      had a sweet time of it with her maniac of a husband!&nbsp; But she is not
      young any more; and people get accustomed to every thing, you know.&nbsp;
      The days when the weather is fine, I see her going by with her daughter to
      the Place Royale for a walk.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s about their only amusement.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The mischief!&#8221; said the servant, laughing.&nbsp; &#8220;If
      that is all, she won&rsquo;t ruin her husband, will she?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is all,&#8221; continued the shop-keeper, &#8220;or rather,
      excuse me, no:&nbsp; every Saturday, for many years, M. and Mme. Favoral
      receive a few of their friends:&nbsp; M. and Mme. Desclavettes, retired
      dealers in bronzes, Rue Turenne; M. Chapelain, the old lawyer from the Rue
      St. Antoine, whose daughter is Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s particular friend; M.
      Desormeaux, head clerk in the Department of Justice; and three or four
      others; and as this just happens to be Saturday&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But here he stopped short, and pointing towards the street:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Quick,&#8221; said he, &#8220;look!&nbsp; Speaking of the&#8212;you
      know&#8212;It is twenty minutes past five, there is M. Favoral coming
      home.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was, in fact, the cashier of the Mutual Credit Society, looking very
      much indeed as the shop-keeper had described him.&nbsp; Walking with his
      head down, he seemed to be seeking upon the pavement the very spot upon
      which he had set his foot in the morning, that he might set it back again
      there in the evening.
    </p>
    <p>
      With the same methodical step, he reached his house, walked up the two
      pairs of stairs, and, taking out his pass-key, opened the door of his
      apartment.
    </p>
    <p>
      The dwelling was fit for the man; and every thing from the very hall,
      betrayed his peculiarities.&nbsp; There, evidently, every piece of
      furniture must have its invariable place, every object its irrevocable
      shelf or hook.&nbsp; All around were evidences, if not exactly of poverty,
      at least of small means, and of the artifices of a respectable economy.&nbsp;
      Cleanliness was carried to its utmost limits:&nbsp; every thing shone.&nbsp;
      Not a detail but betrayed the industrious hand of the housekeeper,
      struggling to defend her furniture against the ravages of time.&nbsp; The
      velvet on the chairs was darned at the angles as with the needle of a
      fairy.&nbsp; Stitches of new worsted showed through the faded designs on
      the hearth-rugs.&nbsp; The curtains had been turned so as to display their
      least worn side.
    </p>
    <p>
      All the guests enumerated by the shop-keeper, and a few others besides,
      were in the parlor when M. Favoral came in.&nbsp; But, instead of
      returning their greeting:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where is Maxence?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am expecting him, my dear,&#8221; said Mme. Favoral gently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Always behind time,&#8221; he scolded.&nbsp; &#8220;It is too
      trifling.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      His daughter, Mlle. Gilberte, interrupted him:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where is my bouquet, father?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral stopped short, struck his forehead, and with the accent of a
      man who reveals something incredible, prodigious, unheard of,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Forgotten,&#8221; he answered, scanning the syllables:&nbsp;
      &#8220;I have for-got-ten it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a fact.&nbsp; Every Saturday, on his way home, he was in the habit
      of stopping at the old woman&rsquo;s shop in front of the Church of St. Louis,
      and buying a bouquet for Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; And to-day . . .
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah!&nbsp; I catch you this time, father!&#8221; exclaimed the girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, Mme. Favoral, whispering to Mme. Desclavettes:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Positively,&#8221; she said in a troubled voice, &#8220;something
      serious must have happened to&#8212;my husband.&nbsp; He to forget!&nbsp;
      He to fail in one of his habits!&nbsp; It is the first time in twenty-six
      years.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The appearance of Maxence at this moment prevented her from going on.&nbsp;
      M. Favoral was about to administer a sound reprimand to his son, when
      dinner was announced.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come,&#8221; exclaimed M. Chapelain, the old lawyer, the
      conciliating man par excellence,&#8212;&#8220;come, let us to the table.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They sat down.&nbsp; But Mme. Favoral had scarcely helped the soup, when
      the bell rang violently.&nbsp; Almost at the same moment the servant
      appeared, and announced:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Baron de Thaller!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      More pale than his napkin, the cashier stood up.&nbsp; &#8220;The manager,&#8221;
      he stammered, &#8220;the director of the Mutual Credit Society.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      II
    </h2>
    <p>
      Close upon the heels of the servant M. de Thaller came.
    </p>
    <p>
      Tall, thin, stiff, he had a very small head, a flat face, pointed nose,
      and long reddish whiskers, slightly shaded with silvery threads, falling
      half-way down his chest.&nbsp; Dressed in the latest style, he wore a
      loose overcoat of rough material, pantaloons that spread nearly to the tip
      of his boots, a wide shirt-collar turned over a light cravat, on the bow
      of which shone a large diamond, and a tall hat with rolled brims.&nbsp;
      With a blinking glance, he made a rapid estimate of the dining-room, the
      shabby furniture, and the guests seated around the table.&nbsp; Then,
      without even condescending to touch his hat, with his large hand tightly
      fitted into a lavender glove, in a brief and imperious tone, and with a
      slight accent which he affirmed was the Alsatian accent:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must speak with you, Vincent,&#8221; said he to his cashier,
      &#8220;alone and at once.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral made visible efforts to conceal his anxiety.&nbsp; &#8220;You
      see,&#8221; he commenced, &#8220;we are dining with a few friends, and&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you wish me to speak in presence of everybody?&#8221;
      interrupted harshly the manager of the Mutual Credit.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cashier hesitated no longer.&nbsp; Taking up a candle from the table,
      he opened the door leading to the parlor, and, standing respectfully to
      one side:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be kind enough to pass on, sir,&#8221; said he:&nbsp; &#8220;I
      follow you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, at the moment of disappearing himself,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Continue to dine without me,&#8221; said he to his guests, with a
      last effort at self-control.&nbsp; &#8220;I shall soon catch up with you.&nbsp;
      This will take but a moment.&nbsp; Do not be uneasy in the least.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They were not uneasy, but surprised, and, above all, shocked at the
      manners of M. de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a brute!&#8221; muttered Mme. Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Desormeaux, the head clerk at the Department of Justice, was an old
      legitimist, much imbued with reactionary ideas.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Such are our masters,&#8221; said he with a sneer, &#8220;the high
      barons of financial feudality.&nbsp; Ah! you are indignant at the
      arrogance of the old aristocracy; well, on your knees, by Jupiter! on your
      face, rather, before the golden crown on field of gules.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      No one replied:&nbsp; every one was trying his best to hear.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the parlor, between M. Favoral and M. de Thaller, a discussion of the
      utmost violence was evidently going on.&nbsp; To seize the meaning of it
      was not possible; and yet through the door, the upper panels of which were
      of glass, fragments could be heard; and from time to time such words
      distinctly reached the ear as dividend, stockholders, deficit, millions,
      etc.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What can it all mean? great heaven!&#8221; moaned Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Doubtless the two interlocutors, the director and the cashier, had drawn
      nearer to the door of communication; for their voices, which rose more and
      more, had now become quite distinct.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is an infamous trap!&#8221;&nbsp; M. Favoral was saying.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I should have been notified&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, come,&#8221; interrupted the other.&nbsp; &#8220;Were you not
      fully warned? did I ever conceal any thing from you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Fear, a fear vague still, and unexplained, was slowly taking possession of
      the guests; and they remained motionless, their forks in suspense, holding
      their breath.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never,&#8221; M. Favoral was repeating, stamping his foot so
      violently that the partition shook,&#8212;&#8220;never, never!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet it must be,&#8221; declared M. de Thaller.&nbsp; &#8220;It
      is the only, the last resource.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose I will not!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your will has nothing to do with it now.&nbsp; It is twenty years
      ago that you might have willed, or not willed.&nbsp; But listen to me, and
      let us reason a little.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Here M. de Thaller dropped his voice; and for some minutes nothing was
      heard in the dining-room, except confused words, and incomprehensible
      exclamations, until suddenly,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is ruin,&#8221; he resumed in a furious tone:&nbsp; &#8220;it
      is bankruptcy on the last of the month.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sir,&#8221; the cashier was replying,&#8212;&#8220;sir!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are a forger, M. Vincent Favoral; you are a thief!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence leaped from his seat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall not permit my father to be thus insulted in his own house,&#8221;
      he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Maxence,&#8221; begged Mme. Favoral, &#8220;my son!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old lawyer, M. Chapelain, held him by the arm; but he struggled hard,
      and was about to burst into the parlor, when the door opened, and the
      director of the Mutual Credit stepped out.
    </p>
    <p>
      With a coolness quite remarkable after such a scene, he advanced towards
      Mlle. Gilberte, and, in a tone of offensive protection,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your father is a wretch, mademoiselle,&#8221; he said; &#8220;and
      my duty should be to surrender him at once into the hands of justice.&nbsp;
      On account of your worthy mother, however, of your father himself, above
      all, on your own account, mademoiselle, I shall forbear doing so.&nbsp;
      But let him fly, let him disappear, and never more be heard from.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He drew from his pocket a roll of bank-notes, and, throwing them upon the
      table,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Hand him this,&#8221; he added.&nbsp; &#8220;Let him leave this
      very night.&nbsp; The police may have been notified.&nbsp; There is a
      train for Brussels at five minutes past eleven.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, having bowed, he withdrew, no one addressing him a single word, so
      great was the astonishment of all the guests of this house, heretofore so
      peaceful.
    </p>
    <p>
      Overcome with stupor, Maxence had dropped upon his chair.&nbsp; Mlle.
      Gilberte alone retained some presence of mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a shame,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;for us to give up thus!&nbsp;
      That man is an impostor, a wretch; he lies!&nbsp; Father, father!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral had not waited to be called, and was standing up against the
      parlor-door, pale as death, and yet calm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why attempt any explanations?&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;The
      money is gone; and appearances are against me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      His wife had drawn near to him, and taken his hand.&nbsp; &#8220;The
      misfortune is immense,&#8221; she said, &#8220;but not irreparable.&nbsp;
      We will sell everything we have.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you not friends?&nbsp; Are we not here,&#8221; insisted the
      others,&#8212;M.&nbsp; Desclavettes, M. Desormeaux, and M. Chapelain.
    </p>
    <p>
      Gently he pushed his wife aside, and coldly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All we had,&#8221; he said, &#8220;would be as a grain of sand in
      an ocean.&nbsp; But we have no longer anything; we are ruined.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ruined!&#8221; exclaimed M. Desormeaux,&#8212;&#8220;ruined!&nbsp;
      And where are the forty-five thousand francs I placed into your hands?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He made no reply.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And our hundred and twenty thousand francs?&#8221; groaned M. and
      Mme. Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And my sixty thousand francs?&#8221; shouted M. Chapelain, with a
      blasphemous oath.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cashier shrugged his shoulders.&nbsp; &#8220;Lost,&#8221; he said,
      &#8220;irrevocably lost!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then their rage exceeded all bounds.&nbsp; Then they forgot that this
      unfortunate man had been their friend for twenty years, that they were his
      guests; and they commenced heaping upon him threats and insults without
      name.
    </p>
    <p>
      He did not even deign to defend himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go on,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;go on.&nbsp; When a poor dog,
      carried away by the current, is drowning, men of heart cast stones at him
      from the bank.&nbsp; Go on!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You should have told us that you speculated,&#8221; screamed M.
      Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      On hearing these words, he straightened himself up, and with a gesture so
      terrible that the others stepped back frightened.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; said he, in a tone of crushing irony, &#8220;it is
      this evening only, that you discover that I speculated?&nbsp; Kind
      friends!&nbsp; Where, then, and in whose pockets, did you suppose I was
      getting the enormous interests I have been paying you for years?&nbsp;
      Where have you ever seen honest money, the money of labor, yield twelve or
      fourteen per cent?&nbsp; The money that yields thus is the money of the
      gaming table, the money of the bourse.&nbsp; Why did you bring me your
      funds?&nbsp; Because you were fully satisfied that I knew how to handle
      the cards.&nbsp; Ah!&nbsp; If I was to tell you that I had doubled your
      capital, you would not ask how I did it, nor whether I had stocked the
      cards.&nbsp; You would virtuously pocket the money.&nbsp; But I have lost:&nbsp;
      I am a thief.&nbsp; Well, so be it.&nbsp; But, then, you are all my
      accomplices.&nbsp; It is the avidity of the dupes which induces the
      trickery of the sharpers.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Here he was interrupted by the servant coming in.&nbsp; &#8220;Sir,&#8221;
      she exclaimed excitedly, &#8220;O sir! the courtyard is full of police
      agents.&nbsp; They are speaking to the concierge.&nbsp; They are coming up
      stairs:&nbsp; I hear them!&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      III
    </h2>
    <p>
      According to the time and place where they are uttered, there are words
      which acquire a terrible significance.&nbsp; In this disordered room, in
      the midst of these excited people, that word, the &#8220;police,&#8221;
      sounded like a thunderclap.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not open,&#8221; Maxence ordered; &#8220;do not open, however
      they may ring or knock.&nbsp; Let them burst the door first.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The very excess of her fright restored to Mme. Favoral a portion of her
      energy.&nbsp; Throwing herself before her husband as if to protect him, as
      if to defend him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They are coming to arrest you, Vincent,&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp;
      &#8220;They are coming; don&rsquo;t you hear them?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He remained motionless, his feet seemingly riveted to the floor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is as I expected,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      And with the accent of the wretch who sees all hope vanish, and who
      utterly gives up all struggle,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be it so,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Let them arrest me, and let
      all be over at once.&nbsp; I have had enough anxiety, enough unbearable
      alternatives.&nbsp; I am tired always to feign, to deceive, and to lie.&nbsp;
      Let them arrest me!&nbsp; Any misfortune will be smaller in reality than
      the horrors of uncertainty.&nbsp; I have nothing more to fear now.&nbsp;
      For the first time in many years I shall sleep to-night.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He did not notice the sinister expression of his guests.&nbsp; &#8220;You
      think I am a thief,&#8221; he added:&nbsp; &#8220;well, be satisfied,
      justice shall be done.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he attributed to them sentiments which were no longer theirs.&nbsp;
      They had forgotten their anger, and their bitter resentment for their lost
      money.
    </p>
    <p>
      The imminence of the peril awoke suddenly in their souls the memories of
      the past, and that strong affection which comes from long habit, and a
      constant exchange of services rendered.&nbsp; Whatever M. Favoral might
      have done, they only saw in him now the friend, the host whose bread they
      had broken together more than a hundred times, the man whose probity, up
      to this fatal night, had remained far above suspicion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Pale, excited, they crowded around him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you lost your mind?&#8221; spoke M. Desormeaux.&nbsp; &#8220;Are
      you going to wait to be arrested, thrown into prison, dragged into a
      criminal court?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He shook his head, and in a tone of idiotic obstinacy,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have I not told you,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;that every thing is
      against me?&nbsp; Let them come; let them do what they please with me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And your wife,&#8221; insisted M. Chapelain, the old lawyer,
      &#8220;and your children!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Will they be any the less dishonored if I am condemned by default?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Wild with grief, Mme. Favoral was wringing her hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Vincent,&#8221; she murmured, &#8220;in the name of Heaven spare us
      the harrowing agony to have you in prison.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Obstinately he remained silent.&nbsp; His daughter, Mlle. Gilberte,
      dropped upon her knees before him, and, joining her hands:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beseech you, father,&#8221; she begged.
    </p>
    <p>
      He shuddered all over.&nbsp; An unspeakable expression of suffering and
      anguish contracted his features; and, speaking in a scarcely intelligible
      voice:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! you are cruelly protracting my agony,&#8221; he stammered.&nbsp;
      &#8220;What do you ask of me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must fly,&#8221; declared M. Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Which way?&nbsp; How?&nbsp; Do you not think that every precaution
      has been taken, that every issue is closely watched?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence interrupted him with a gesture:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The windows in sister&rsquo;s room, father,&#8221; said he, &#8220;open
      upon the courtyard of the adjoining house.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes; but here we are up two pairs of stairs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No matter:&nbsp; I have a way.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And turning towards his sister:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, Gilberte,&#8221; went on the young man, &#8220;give me a
      light, and let me have some sheets.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They went out hurriedly.&nbsp; Mme. Favoral felt a gleam of hope.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We are saved!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Saved!&#8221; repeated the cashier mechanically.&nbsp; &#8220;Yes;
      for I guess Maxence&rsquo;s idea.&nbsp; But we must have an understanding.&nbsp;
      Where will you take refuge?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How can I tell?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is a train at five minutes past eleven,&#8221; remarked M.
      Desormeaux.&nbsp; &#8220;Don&rsquo;t let us forget that.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But money will be required to leave by that train,&#8221;
      interrupted the old lawyer.&nbsp; &#8220;Fortunately, I have some.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, forgetting his hundred and sixty thousand francs lost, he took out
      his pocket-book.&nbsp; Mme. Favoral stopped him.&nbsp; &#8220;We have more
      than we need,&#8221; said she.
    </p>
    <p>
      She took from the table, and held out to her husband, the roll of bank
      notes which the director of the Mutual Credit Society had thrown down
      before going.
    </p>
    <p>
      He refused them with a gesture of rage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Rather starve to death!&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;&rsquo;Tis he, &lsquo;tis
      that wretch&#8212;&#8221; But he interrupted himself, and more gently:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Put away those bank-bills,&#8221; said he to his wife, &#8220;and
      let Maxence take them back to M. de Thaller to-morrow.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The bell rang violently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The police!&#8221; groaned Mme. Desclavettes, who seemed on the
      point of fainting away.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am going to negotiate,&#8221; said M. Desormeaux.&nbsp; &#8220;Fly,
      Vincent:&nbsp; do not lose a minute.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he ran to the front-door, whilst Mme. Favoral was hurrying her husband
      towards Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s room.
    </p>
    <p>
      Rapidly and stoutly Maxence had fastened four sheets together by the ends,
      which gave a more than sufficient length.&nbsp; Then, opening the window,
      he examined carefully the courtyard of the adjoining house.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No one,&#8221; said he:&nbsp; &#8220;everybody is at dinner.&nbsp;
      We&rsquo;ll succeed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral was tottering like a drunken man.&nbsp; A terrible emotion
      convulsed his features.&nbsp; Casting a long look upon his wife and
      children:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;O Lord!&#8221; he murmured, &#8220;what will become of you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fear nothing, father,&#8221; uttered Maxence.&nbsp; &#8220;I am
      here.&nbsp; Neither my mother nor my sister will want for any thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My son!&#8221; resumed the cashier, &#8220;my children!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then, with a choking voice:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am worthy neither of your love nor your devotion, wretch that I
      am!&nbsp; I made you lead a miserable existence, spend a joyless youth.&nbsp;
      I imposed upon you every trial of poverty, whilst I&#8212;And now I leave
      you nothing but ruin and a dishonored name.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Make haste, father,&#8221; interrupted Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; It
      seemed as if he could not make up his mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is horrible to abandon you thus.&nbsp; What a parting!&nbsp; Ah!
      death would indeed be far preferable.&nbsp; What will you think of me?&nbsp;
      I am very guilty, certainly, but not as you think.&nbsp; I have been
      betrayed, and I must suffer for all.&nbsp; If at least you knew the whole
      truth.&nbsp; But will you ever know it?&nbsp; We will never see each other
      again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Desperately his wife clung to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not speak thus,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Wherever you may
      find an asylum, I will join you.&nbsp; Death alone can separate us.&nbsp;
      What do I care what you may have done, or what the world will say?&nbsp; I
      am your wife.&nbsp; Our children will come with me.&nbsp; If necessary, we
      will emigrate to America; we&rsquo;ll change our name; we will work.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The knocks on the outer door were becoming louder and louder; and M.
      Desormeaux&rsquo; voice could be heard, endeavoring to gain a few moments more.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come,&#8221; said Maxence, &#8220;you cannot hesitate any longer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, overcoming his father&rsquo;s reluctance, he fastened one end of the sheets
      around his waist.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am going to let you down, father,&#8221; said he; &#8220;and, as
      soon as you touch the ground, you must undo the knot.&nbsp; Take care of
      the first-story windows; beware of the concierge; and, once in the street,
      don&rsquo;t walk too fast.&nbsp; Make for the Boulevard, where you will be
      sooner lost in the crowd.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The knocks had now become violent blows; and it was evident that the door
      would soon be broken in, if M. Desormeaux did not make up his mind to open
      it.
    </p>
    <p>
      The light was put out.&nbsp; With the assistance of his daughter, M.
      Favoral lifted himself upon the window-sill, whilst Maxence held the
      sheets with both hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beseech you, Vincent,&#8221; repeated Mme. Favoral, &#8220;write
      to us.&nbsp; We shall be in mortal anxiety until we hear of your safety.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence let the sheets slip slowly:&nbsp; in two seconds M. Favoral stood
      on the pavement below.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All right,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young man drew the sheets back rapidly, and threw them under the bed.&nbsp;
      But Mlle. Gilberte remained long enough at the window to recognize her
      father&rsquo;s voice asking the concierge to open the door, and to hear the
      heavy gate of the adjoining house closing behind him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Saved!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was none too soon.&nbsp; M. Desormeaux had just been compelled to
      yield; and the commissary of police was walking in.
    </p>
    <h2>
      IV
    </h2>
    <p>
      The commissaries of police of Paris, as a general thing, are no
      simpletons; and, if they are ever taken in, it is because it has suited
      them to be taken in.
    </p>
    <p>
      Their modest title covers the most important, perhaps, of magistracies,
      almost the only one known to the lower classes; an enormous power, and an
      influence so decisive, that the most sensible statesman of the reign of
      Louis Philippe ventured once to say, &#8220;Give me twenty good
      commissaries of police in Paris, and I&rsquo;ll undertake to suppress any
      government:&nbsp; net profit, one hundred millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Parisian above all, the commissary has had ample time to study his ground
      when he was yet only a peace-officer.&nbsp; The dark side of the most
      brilliant lives has no mysteries for him.&nbsp; He has received the
      strangest confidences:&nbsp; he has listened to the most astounding
      confessions.&nbsp; He knows how low humanity can stoop, and what
      aberrations there are in brains apparently the soundest.&nbsp; The work
      woman whom her husband beats, and the great lady whom her husband cheats,
      have both come to him.&nbsp; He has been sent for by the shop-keeper whom
      his wife deceives, and by the millionaire who has been blackmailed.&nbsp;
      To his office, as to a lay confessional, all passions fatally lead.&nbsp;
      In his presence the dirty linen of two millions of people is washed <i>en
      famille</i>.
    </p>
    <p>
      A Paris commissary of police, who after ten years&rsquo; practice, could retain
      an illusion, believe in something, or be astonished at any thing in the
      world, would be but a fool.&nbsp; If he is still capable of some emotion,
      he is a good man.
    </p>
    <p>
      The one who had just walked into M. Favoral&rsquo;s apartment was already past
      middle age, colder than ice, and yet kindly, but of that commonplace
      kindliness which frightens like the executioner&rsquo;s politeness at the
      scaffold.
    </p>
    <p>
      He required but a single glance of his small but clear eyes to decipher
      the physiognomies of all these worthy people standing around the
      disordered table.&nbsp; And beckoning to the agents who accompanied him to
      stop at the door,&#8212;&#8220;Monsieur Vincent Favoral?&#8221; he
      inquired.&nbsp; The cashier&rsquo;s guests, M. Desormeaux excepted, seemed
      stricken with stupor.&nbsp; Each one felt as if he had a share of the
      disgrace of this police invasion.&nbsp; The dupes who are sometimes caught
      in clandestine &#8220;hells&#8221; have the same humiliated attitudes.
    </p>
    <p>
      At last, and not without an effort,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Favoral is no longer here,&#8221; replied M. Chapelain,
      the old lawyer.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary of police started.&nbsp; Whilst they were discussing with
      him through the door, he had perfectly well understood that they were only
      trying to gain time; and, if he had not at once burst in the door, it was
      solely owing to his respect for M. Desormeaux himself, whom he knew
      personally, and still more for his title of head clerk at the Department
      of Justice.&nbsp; But his suspicions did not extend beyond the destruction
      of a few compromising papers.&nbsp; Whereas, in fact:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have helped M. Favoral to escape, gentlemen?&#8221; said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      No one replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Silence means assent,&#8221; he added.&nbsp; &#8220;Very well:&nbsp;
      which way did he get off?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Still no answer.&nbsp; M. Desclavettes would have been glad to add
      something to the forty-five thousand francs he had just lost, to be,
      together with Mme. Desclavettes, a hundred miles away.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where is Mme. Favoral?&#8221; resumed the commissary, evidently
      well informed.&nbsp; &#8220;Where are Mlle. Gilberte and M. Maxence
      Favoral?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They continued silent.&nbsp; No one in the dining-room knew what might
      have taken place in the other room; and a single word might be treason.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary then became impatient.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Take up a light,&#8221; said he to one of the agents who had
      remained at the door, &#8220;and follow me.&nbsp; We shall see.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And without a shadow of hesitation, for it seems to be the privilege of
      police-agents to be at home everywhere, he crossed the parlor, and reached
      Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s room just as she was withdrawing from the window.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, it is that way he escaped!&#8221; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      He rushed to the window, and remained long enough leaning on his elbows to
      thoroughly examine the ground, and understand the situation of the
      apartment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s evident,&#8221; he said at last, &#8220;this window opens on
      the courtyard of the next house.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This was said to one of his agents, who bore an unmistakable resemblance
      to the servant who had been asking so many questions in the afternoon.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Instead of gathering so much useless information,&#8221; he added,
      &#8220;why did you not post yourself as to the outlets of the house?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was &#8220;sold&#8221;; and yet he manifested neither spite nor anger.&nbsp;
      He seemed in no wise anxious to run after the fugitive.&nbsp; Upon the
      features of Maxence and of Mlle. Gilberte, and more still in Mme.
      Favoral&rsquo;s eyes, he had read that it would be useless for the present.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let us examine the papers, then,&#8221; said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My husband&rsquo;s papers are all in his study,&#8221; replied Mme.
      Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Please lead me to it, madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The room which M. Favoral called loftily his study was a small room with a
      tile floor, white-washed walls, and meanly lighted through a narrow
      transom.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was furnished with an old desk, a small wardrobe with grated door, a
      few shelves upon which were piled some bandboxes and bundles of old
      newspapers, and two or three deal chairs.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where are the keys?&#8221; inquired the commissary of police.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My father always carries them in his pocket, sir,&#8221; replied
      Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then let some one go for a locksmith.&#8221;&nbsp; Stronger than
      fear, curiosity had drawn all the guests of the cashier of the Mutual
      Credit Society, M. Desormeaux, M. Chapelain, M. Desclavettes himself; and,
      standing within the door-frame, they followed eagerly every motion of the
      commissary, who, pending the arrival of the locksmith, was making a flying
      examination of the bundles of papers left exposed upon the desk.
    </p>
    <p>
      After a while, and unable to hold in any longer:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would it be indiscreet,&#8221; timidly inquired the old
      bronze-merchant, &#8220;to ask the nature of the charges against that poor
      Favoral?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Embezzlement, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And is the amount large?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Had it been small, I should have said theft.&nbsp; Embezzling
      commences only when the sum has reached a round figure.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Annoyed at the sardonic tone of the commissary:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The fact is,&#8221; resumed M. Chapelain, &#8220;Favoral was our
      friend; and, if we could get him out of the scrape, we would all willingly
      contribute.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s a matter of ten or twelve millions, gentlemen.&#8221;&nbsp;
      Was it possible?&nbsp; Was it even likely?&nbsp; Could any one imagine so
      many millions slipping through the fingers of M. de Thaller&rsquo;s methodic
      cashier?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, sir!&#8221; exclaimed Mme. Favoral, &#8220;if any thing could
      relieve my feelings, the enormity of that sum would.&nbsp; My husband was
      a man of simple and modest tastes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There are certain passions,&#8221; he interrupted, &#8220;which
      nothing betrays externally.&nbsp; Gambling is more terrible than fire.&nbsp;
      After a fire, some charred remnants are found.&nbsp; What is there left
      after a lost game?&nbsp; Fortunes may be thrown into the vortex of the
      bourse, without a trace of them being left.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The unfortunate woman was not convinced.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I could swear, sir,&#8221; she protested, &#8220;that I knew how my
      husband spent every hour of his life.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not swear, madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All our friends will tell you how parsimonious my husband was.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here, madame, towards yourself and your children, I have no doubt;
      for seeing is believing:&nbsp; but elsewhere&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was interrupted by the arrival of the locksmith, who, in less than five
      minutes, had picked all the locks of the old desk.
    </p>
    <p>
      But in vain did the commissary search all the drawers.&nbsp; He found only
      those useless papers which are made relics of by people who have made
      order their religious faith,&#8212;uninteresting letters, grocers&rsquo; and
      butchers&rsquo; bills running back twenty years.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a waste of time to look for any thing here,&#8221; he
      growled.
    </p>
    <p>
      And in fact he was about to give up his perquisitions, when a bundle
      thinner than the rest attracted his attention.&nbsp; He cut the thread
      that bound it; and almost at once:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I knew I was right,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; And holding out a paper
      to Mme. Favoral:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Read, madame, if you please.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a bill.&nbsp; She read thus:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &#8220;Sold to M. Favoral an India Cashmere, fr. 8,500.&nbsp;
      <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Received payment, FORBE &amp; TOWLER.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it for you, madame,&#8221; asked the commissary, &#8220;that
      this magnificent shawl was bought?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Stupefied with astonishment, the poor woman still refused to admit the
      evidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Madame de Thaller spends a great deal,&#8221; she stammered.&nbsp;
      &#8220;My husband often made important purchases for her account.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Often, indeed!&#8221; interrupted the commissary of police; &#8220;for
      here are many other receipted bills,&#8212;earrings, sixteen thousand
      francs; a bracelet, three thousand francs; a parlor set, a horse, two
      velvet dresses.&nbsp; Here is a part, at least, if not the whole, of the
      ten millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      V
    </h2>
    <p>
      Had the commissary received any information in advance? or was he guided
      only by the scent peculiar to men of his profession, and the habit of
      suspecting every thing, even that which seems most unlikely?
    </p>
    <p>
      At any rate he expressed himself in a tone of absolute certainty.
    </p>
    <p>
      The agents who had accompanied and assisted him in his researches were
      winking at each other, and giggling stupidly.&nbsp; The situation struck
      them as rather pleasant.
    </p>
    <p>
      The others, M. Desclavettes, M. Chapelain, and the worthy M. Desormeaux
      himself, could have racked their brains in vain to find terms wherein to
      express the immensity of their astonishments.&nbsp; Vincent Favoral, their
      old friend, paying for cashmeres, diamonds, and parlor sets!&nbsp; Such an
      idea could not enter in their minds.&nbsp; For whom could such princely
      gifts be intended?&nbsp; For a mistress, for one of those redoubtable
      creatures whom fancy represents crouching in the depths of love, like
      monsters at the bottom of their caves!
    </p>
    <p>
      But how could any one imagine the methodic cashier of the Mutual Credit
      Society carried away by one of those insane passions which knew no reason?&nbsp;
      Ruined by gambling, perhaps, but by a woman!
    </p>
    <p>
      Could any one picture him, so homely and so plain here, Rue St. Gilles, at
      the head of another establishment, and leading elsewhere in one of the
      brilliant quarters of Paris, a reckless life, such as strike terror in the
      bosom of quiet families?
    </p>
    <p>
      Could any one understand the same man at once miserly-economical and
      madly-prodigal, storming when his wife spent a few cents, and robbing to
      supply the expenses of an adventuress, and collecting in the same drawer
      the jeweler&rsquo;s accounts and the butcher&rsquo;s bills?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is the climax of absurdity,&#8221; murmured good M. Desormeaux.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence fairly shook with wrath.&nbsp; Mlle. Gilberte was weeping.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral alone, usually so timid, boldly defended, and with her utmost
      energy, the man whose name she bore.&nbsp; That he might have embezzled
      millions, she admitted:&nbsp; that he had deceived and betrayed her so
      shamefully, that he had made a wretched dupe of her for so many years,
      seemed to her insensate, monstrous, impossible.
    </p>
    <p>
      And purple with shame:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your suspicions would vanish at once, sir,&#8221; she said to the
      commissary, &#8220;if I could but explain to you our mode of life.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Encouraged by his first discovery, he was proceeding more minutely with
      his perquisitions, undoing the strings of every bundle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is useless, madame,&#8221; he answered in that brief tone which
      made so much impression upon M. Desclavettes.&nbsp; &#8220;You can only
      tell me what you know; and you know nothing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never, sir, did a man lead a more regular life than M. Favoral.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In appearance, you are right.&nbsp; Besides, to regulate one&rsquo;s
      disorder is one of the peculiarities of our time.&nbsp; We open credits to
      our passions, and we keep account of our infamies by double entry.&nbsp;
      We operate with method.&nbsp; We embezzle millions that we may hang
      diamonds to the ears of an adventuress; but we are careful, and we keep
      the receipted bills.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But, sir, I have already told you that I never lost sight of my
      husband.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Every morning, precisely at nine o&rsquo;clock, he left home to go to M.
      de Thaller&rsquo;s office.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The whole neighborhood knows that, madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At half-past five he came home.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That, also, is a well-known fact.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;After dinner he went out to play a game, but it was his only
      amusement; and at eleven o&rsquo;clock he was always in bed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perfectly correct.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, then, sir, where could M. Favoral have found time to abandon
      himself to the excesses of which you accuse him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Imperceptibly the commissary of police shrugged his shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Far from me, madame,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;to doubt your good
      faith.&nbsp; What matters it, moreover, whether your husband spent in this
      way or in that way the sums which he is charged with having appropriated?&nbsp;
      But what do your objections prove?&nbsp; Simply that M. Favoral was very
      skillful, and very much self-possessed.&nbsp; Had he breakfasted when he
      left you at nine?&nbsp; No.&nbsp; Pray, then, where did he breakfast?&nbsp;
      In a restaurant?&nbsp; Which?&nbsp; Why did he come home only at half-past
      five, when his office actually closed at three o&rsquo;clock?&nbsp; Are you
      quite sure that it was to the Caf&eacute; Turc that he went every evening?&nbsp;
      Finally, why do not you say anything of the extra work which he always had
      to attend to, as he pretended, once or twice a month?&nbsp; Sometimes it
      was a loan, sometimes a liquidation, or a settlement of dividends, which
      devolved upon him.&nbsp; Did he come home then?&nbsp; No.&nbsp; He told
      you that he would dine out, and that it would be more convenient for him
      to have a cot put up in his office; and thus you were twenty-four or
      forty-eight hours without seeing him.&nbsp; Surely this double existence
      must have weighed heavily upon him; but he was forbidden from breaking off
      with you, under penalty of being caught the very next day with his hand in
      the till.&nbsp; It is the respectability of his official life here which
      made the other possible,&#8212;that which has absorbed such enormous sums.&nbsp;
      The harsher and the closer he were here, the more magnificent he could
      show himself elsewhere.&nbsp; His household in the Rue St. Gilles was for
      him a certificate of impunity.&nbsp; Seeing him so economical, every one
      thought him rich.&nbsp; People who seem to spend nothing are always
      trusted.&nbsp; Every privation which he imposed upon you increased his
      reputation of austere probity, and raised him farther above suspicion.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Big tears were rolling down Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s cheeks.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why not tell me the whole truth?&#8221; she stammered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because I do not know it,&#8221; replied the commissary; &#8220;because
      these are all mere presumptions.&nbsp; I have seen so many instances of
      similar calculations!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then regretting, perhaps, to have said so much,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I may be mistaken,&#8221; he added:&nbsp; &#8220;I do not
      pretend to be infallible.&#8221;&nbsp; He was just then completing a brief
      inventory of all the papers found in the old desk.&nbsp; There was nothing
      left but to examine the drawer which was used for a cash drawer.&nbsp; He
      found in it in gold, notes, and small change, seven hundred and eighteen
      francs.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having counted this sum, the commissary offered it to Mme. Favoral,
      saying,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This belongs to you madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But instinctively she withdrew her hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary went on with a gesture of kindness,&#8212;&#8220;I
      understand your scruples, madame, and yet I must insist.&nbsp; You may
      believe me when I tell you that this little sum is fairly and legitimately
      yours.&nbsp; You have no personal fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The efforts of the poor woman to keep from bursting into loud sobs were
      but too visible.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I possess nothing in the world, sir,&#8221; she said in a broken
      voice.&nbsp; &#8220;My husband alone attended to our business-affairs.&nbsp;
      He never spoke to me about them; and I would not have dared to question
      him.&nbsp; Alone he disposed of our money.&nbsp; Every Sunday he handed me
      the amount which he thought necessary for the expenses of the week, and I
      rendered him an account of it.&nbsp; When my children or myself were in
      need of any thing, I told him so, and he gave me what he thought proper.&nbsp;
      This is Saturday:&nbsp; of what I received last Sunday I have five francs
      left:&nbsp; that, is our whole fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Positively the commissary was moved.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see, then, madame,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that you cannot
      hesitate:&nbsp; you must live.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence stepped forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Am I not here, sir?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary looked at him keenly, and in a grave tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe indeed, sir,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;that you will not
      suffer your mother and sister to want for any thing.&nbsp; But resources
      are not created in a day.&nbsp; Yours, if I have not been deceived, are
      more than limited just now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And as the young man blushed, and did not answer, he handed the seven
      hundred francs to Mlle. Gilberte, saying,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Take this, mademoiselle:&nbsp; your mother permits it.&#8221;&nbsp;
      His work was done.&nbsp; To place his seals upon M. Favoral&rsquo;s study was
      the work of a moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      Beckoning, then, to his agents to withdraw, and being ready to leave
      himself,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let not the seals cause you any uneasiness, madame,&#8221; said the
      commissary of police to Mme. Favoral.&nbsp; &#8220;Before forty-eight
      hours, some one will come to remove these papers, and restore to you the
      free use of that room.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He went out; and, as soon as the door had closed behind him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221; exclaimed M. Desormeaux;
    </p>
    <p>
      But no one had any thing to say.&nbsp; The guests of that house where
      misfortune had just entered were making haste to leave.&nbsp; The
      catastrophe was certainly terrible and unforeseen; but did it not reach
      them too?&nbsp; Did they not lose among them more than three hundred
      thousand francs?
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus, after a few commonplace protestations, and some of those promises
      which mean nothing, they withdrew; and, as they were going down the
      stairs,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The commissary took Vincent&rsquo;s escape too easy,&#8221; remarked M.
      Desormeaux.&nbsp; &#8220;He must know some way to catch him again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      VI
    </h2>
    <p>
      At last Mme. Favoral found herself alone with her children and free to
      give herself up to the most frightful despair.
    </p>
    <p>
      She dropped heavily upon a seat; and, drawing to her bosom Maxence and
      Gilberte,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;O my children!&#8221; she sobbed, covering them with her kisses and
      her tears,&#8212;&#8220;my children, we are most unfortunate.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Not less distressed than herself, they strove, nevertheless, to mitigate
      her anguish, to inspire her with sufficient courage to bear this crushing
      trial; and kneeling at her feet, and kissing her hands,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are we not with you still, mother?&#8221; they kept repeating.
    </p>
    <p>
      But she seemed not to hear them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not for myself that I weep,&#8221; she went on.&nbsp; &#8220;I!
      what had I still to wait or hope for in life?&nbsp; Whilst you, Maxence,
      you, my poor Gilberte!&#8212;If, at least, I could feel myself free from
      blame!&nbsp; But no.&nbsp; It is my weakness and my want of courage that
      have brought on this catastrophe.&nbsp; I shrank from the struggle.&nbsp;
      I purchased my domestic peace at the cost of your future in the world.&nbsp;
      I forgot that a mother has sacred duties towards her children.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral was at this time a woman of some forty-three years, with
      delicate and mild features, a countenance overflowing with kindness, and
      whose whole being exhaled, as it were, an exquisite perfume of <i>noblesse</i>
      and distinction.
    </p>
    <p>
      Happy, she might have been beautiful still,&#8212;of that autumnal beauty
      whose maturity has the splendors of the luscious fruits of the later
      season.
    </p>
    <p>
      But she had suffered so much!&nbsp; The livid paleness of her complexion,
      the rigid fold of her lips, the nervous shudders that shook her frame,
      revealed a whole existence of bitter deceptions, of exhausting struggles,
      and of proudly concealed humiliations.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet every thing seemed to smile upon her at the outset of life.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was an only daughter; and her parents, wealthy silk-merchants, had
      brought her up like the daughter of an archduchess desired to marry some
      sovereign prince.
    </p>
    <p>
      But at fifteen she had lost her mother.&nbsp; Her father, soon tired of
      his lonely fireside, commenced to seek away from home some diversion from
      his sorrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was a man of weak mind,&#8212;one of those marked in advance to play
      the part of eternal dupes.&nbsp; Having money, he found many friends.&nbsp;
      Having once tasted the cup of facile pleasures, he yielded readily to its
      intoxication.&nbsp; Suppers, cards, amusements, absorbed his time, to the
      utter detriment of his business.&nbsp; And, eighteen months after his
      wife&rsquo;s death, he had already spent a large portion of his fortune, when he
      fell into the hands of an adventuress, whom, without regard for his
      daughter, he audaciously brought beneath his own roof.
    </p>
    <p>
      In provincial cities, where everybody knows everybody else, such infamies
      are almost impossible.&nbsp; They are not quite so rare in Paris, where
      one is, so to speak, lost in the crowd, and where the restraining power of
      the neighbor&rsquo;s opinion is lacking.
    </p>
    <p>
      For two years the poor girl, condemned to bear this illegitimate
      stepmother, endured nameless sufferings.
    </p>
    <p>
      She had just completed her eighteenth year, when, one evening, her father
      took her aside.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have made up my mind to marry again,&#8221; he said; &#8220;but I
      wish first to provide you with a husband.&nbsp; I have looked for one, and
      found him.&nbsp; He is not very brilliant perhaps; but he is, it seems, a
      good, hard-working, economical fellow, who&rsquo;ll make his way in the world.&nbsp;
      I had dreamed of something better for you; but times are hard, trade is
      dull:&nbsp; in short, having only a dowry of twenty thousand francs to
      give you, I have no right to be very particular.&nbsp; To-morrow I&rsquo;ll
      bring you my candidate.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, sure enough, the next day that excellent father introduced M. Vincent
      Favoral to his daughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was not pleased with him; but she could hardly have said that she was
      displeased.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was, at the age of twenty-five, which he had just reached, a man so
      utterly lacking in individuality, that he could scarcely have excited any
      feeling either of sympathy or affection.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suitably dressed, he seemed timid and awkward, reserved, quite diffident,
      and of mediocre intelligence.&nbsp; He confessed to have received a most
      imperfect education, and declared himself quite ignorant of life.&nbsp; He
      had scarcely any means outside his profession.&nbsp; He was at this time
      chief accountant in a large factory of the Faubourg St. Antoine, with a
      salary of four thousand Francs a year.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl did not hesitate a moment.&nbsp; Any thing appeared to her
      preferable to the contact of a woman whom she abhorred and despised.
    </p>
    <p>
      She gave her consent; and, twenty days after the first interview, she had
      become Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Alas! six weeks had not elapsed, before she knew that she had but
      exchanged her wretched fate for a more wretched one still.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not that her husband was in any way unkind to her (he dared not, as yet);
      but he had revealed himself enough to enable her to judge him.&nbsp; He
      was one of those formidably selfish men who wither every thing around
      them, like those trees within the shadow of which nothing can grow.&nbsp;
      His coldness concealed a stupid obstinacy; his mildness, an iron will.
    </p>
    <p>
      If he had married, &lsquo;twas because he thought a wife a necessary adjunct,
      because he desired a home wherein to command, because, above all, he had
      been seduced by the dowry of twenty thousand francs.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the man had one passion,&#8212;money.&nbsp; Under his placid
      countenance revolved thoughts of the most burning covetousness.&nbsp; He
      wished to be rich.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now, as he had no illusion whatever upon his own merits, as he knew
      himself to be perfectly incapable of any of those daring conceptions which
      lead to rapid fortune, as he was in no wise enterprising, he conceived but
      one means to achieve wealth, that is, to save, to economize, to stint
      himself, to pile penny upon penny.
    </p>
    <p>
      His profession of accountant had furnished him with a number of instances
      of the financial power of the penny daily saved, and invested so as to
      yield its maximum of interest.
    </p>
    <p>
      If ever his blue eye became animated, it was when he calculated what would
      be at the present time the capital produced by a simple penny placed at
      five per cent interest the year of the birth of our Saviour.
    </p>
    <p>
      For him this was sublime.&nbsp; He conceived nothing beyond.&nbsp; One
      penny!&nbsp; He wished, he said, he could have lived eighteen hundred
      years, to follow the evolutions of that penny, to see it grow tenfold, a
      hundred-fold, produce, swell, enlarge, and become, after centuries,
      millions and hundreds of millions.
    </p>
    <p>
      In spite of all, he had, during the early months of his marriage, allowed
      his wife to have a young servant.&nbsp; He gave her from time to time, a
      five-franc-piece, and took her to the country on Sundays.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the honeymoon; and, as he declared himself, this life of
      prodigalities could not last.
    </p>
    <p>
      Under a futile pretext, the little servant was dismissed.&nbsp; He
      tightened the strings of his purse.&nbsp; The Sunday excursions were
      suppressed.
    </p>
    <p>
      To mere economy succeeded the niggardly parsimony which counts the grains
      of salt in the <i>pot-au-feu</i>, which weighs the soap for the washing,
      and measures the evening&rsquo;s allowance of candle.
    </p>
    <p>
      Gradually the accountant took the habit of treating his young wife like a
      servant, whose honesty is suspected; or like a child, whose
      thoughtlessness is to be feared.&nbsp; Every morning he handed her the
      money for the expenses of the day; and every evening he expressed his
      surprise that she had not made better use of it.&nbsp; He accused her of
      allowing herself to be grossly cheated, or even to be in collusion with
      the dealers.&nbsp; He charged her with being foolishly extravagant; which
      fact, however, he added, did not surprise him much on the part of the
      daughter of a man who had dissipated a large fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      To cap the climax, Vincent Favoral was on the worst possible terms with
      his father-in-law.&nbsp; Of the twenty thousand francs of his wife&rsquo;s
      dowry, twelve thousand only had been paid, and it was in vain that he
      clamored for the balance.&nbsp; The silk-merchant&rsquo;s business had become
      unprofitable; he was on the verge of bankruptcy.&nbsp; The eight thousand
      francs seemed in imminent danger.
    </p>
    <p>
      His wife alone he held responsible for this deception.&nbsp; He repeated
      to her constantly that she had connived with her father to &#8220;take him
      in,&#8221; to fleece him, to ruin him.
    </p>
    <p>
      What an existence!&nbsp; Certainly, had the unhappy woman known where to
      find a refuge, she would have fled from that home where each of her days
      was but a protracted torture.&nbsp; But where could she go?&nbsp; Of whom
      could she beg a shelter?
    </p>
    <p>
      She had terrible temptations at this time, when she was not yet twenty,
      and they called her the beautiful Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Perhaps she would have succumbed, when she discovered that she was about
      to become a mother.&nbsp; One year, day for day, after her marriage, she
      gave birth to a son, who received the name of Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      The accountant was but indifferently pleased at the coming of this son.&nbsp;
      It was, above all, a cause of expense.&nbsp; He had been compelled to give
      some thirty francs to a nurse, and almost twice as much for the baby&rsquo;s
      clothes.&nbsp; Then a child breaks up the regularity of one&rsquo;s habits; and
      he, as he affirmed, was attached to his as much as to life itself.&nbsp;
      And now he saw his household disturbed, the hours of his meals altered,
      his own importance reduced, his authority even ignored.
    </p>
    <p>
      But what mattered now to his young wife the ill-humor which he no longer
      took the trouble to conceal?&nbsp; Mother, she defied her tyrant.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now, at least, she had in this world a being upon whom she could lavish
      all her caresses so brutally repelled.&nbsp; There existed a soul within
      which she reigned supreme.&nbsp; What troubles would not a smile of her
      son have made her forget?
    </p>
    <p>
      With the admirable instinct of an egotist, M. Favoral understood so well
      what passed in the mind of his wife, that he dared not complain too much
      of what the little fellow cost.&nbsp; He made up his mind bravely; and
      when four years later, his daughter Gilberte was born, instead of
      lamenting:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&#8221; said he:&nbsp; &#8220;God blesses large families.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      VII
    </h2>
    <p>
      But already, at this time, M. Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s situation had been
      singularly modified.
    </p>
    <p>
      The revolution of 1848 had just taken place.&nbsp; The factory in the
      Faubourg St. Antoine, where he was employed, had been compelled to close
      its doors.
    </p>
    <p>
      One evening, as he came home at the usual hour, he announced that he had
      been discharged.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral shuddered at the thought of what her husband might be,
      without work, and deprived of his salary.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is to become of us?&#8221; she murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      He shrugged his shoulders.&nbsp; Visibly he was much excited.&nbsp; His
      cheeks were flushed; his eyes sparkled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&#8221; he said:&nbsp; &#8220;we shan&rsquo;t starve for all that.&#8221;&nbsp;
      And, as his wife was gazing at him in astonishment:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;what are you looking at?&nbsp; It
      is so:&nbsp; I know many a one who affects to live on his income, and who
      are not as well off as we are.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was, for over six years since he was married, the first time that he
      spoke of his business otherwise than to groan and complain, to accuse
      fate, and curse the high price of living.&nbsp; The very day before, he
      had declared himself ruined by the purchase of a pair of shoes for
      Maxence.&nbsp; The change was so sudden and so great, that she hardly knew
      what to think, and wondered if grief at the loss of his situation had not
      somewhat disturbed his mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Such are women,&#8221; he went on with a giggle.&nbsp; &#8220;Results
      astonish them, because they know nothing of the means used to bring them
      about.&nbsp; Am I a fool, then?&nbsp; Would I impose upon myself
      privations of all sorts, if it were to accomplish nothing?&nbsp; Parbleu!&nbsp;
      I love fine living too, I do, and good dinners at the restaurant, and the
      theatre, and the nice little excursions in the country.&nbsp; But I want
      to be rich.&nbsp; At the price of all the comforts which I have not had, I
      have saved a capital, the income of which will support us all.&nbsp; Eh,
      eh!&nbsp; That&rsquo;s the power of the little penny put out to fatten!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      As she went to bed that night, Mme. Favoral felt more happy than she had
      done since her mother&rsquo;s death.&nbsp; She almost forgave her husband his
      sordid parsimony, and the humiliations he had heaped upon her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, be it so,&#8221; she thought.&nbsp; &#8220;I shall have lived
      miserably, I shall have endured nameless sufferings; but my children shall
      be rich, their life shall be easy and pleasant.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The next day M. Favoral&rsquo;s excitement had completely abated.&nbsp;
      Manifestly he regretted his confidences.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must not think on that account that you can waste and pillage
      every thing,&#8221; he declared rudely.&nbsp; &#8220;Besides, I have
      greatly exaggerated.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he started in search of a situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      To find one was likely to be difficult.&nbsp; Times of revolution are not
      exactly propitious to industry.&nbsp; Whilst the parties discussed in the
      Chamber, there were on the street twenty thousand clerks, who, every
      morning as they rose, wondered where they would dine that day.
    </p>
    <p>
      For want of any thing better, Vincent Favoral undertook to keep books in
      various places,&#8212;an hour here, an hour there, twice a week in one
      house, four times in another.
    </p>
    <p>
      In this way he earned as much and more than he did at the factory; but the
      business did not suit him.
    </p>
    <p>
      What he liked was the office from which one does not stir, the
      stove-heated atmosphere, the elbow-worn desk, the leather-cushioned chair,
      the black alpaca sleeves over the coat.&nbsp; The idea that he should on
      one and the same day have to do with five or six different houses, and be
      compelled to walk an hour, to go and work another hour at the other end of
      Paris, fairly irritated him.&nbsp; He found himself out of his reckoning,
      like a horse who has turned a mill for ten years; if he is made to trot
      straight before him.
    </p>
    <p>
      So, one morning, he gave up the whole thing, swearing that he would rather
      remain idle until he could find a place suited to his taste and his
      convenience; and, in the mean time, all they would have to do would be to
      put a little less butter in the soup, and a little more water in the wine.
    </p>
    <p>
      He went out, nevertheless, and remained until dinner-time.&nbsp; And he
      did the same the next and the following days.
    </p>
    <p>
      He started off the moment he had swallowed the last mouthful of his
      breakfast, came home at six o&rsquo;clock, dined in haste, and disappeared
      again, not to return until about midnight.&nbsp; He had hours of delirious
      joy, and moments of frightful discouragement.&nbsp; Sometimes he seemed
      horribly uneasy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What can he be doing?&#8221; thought Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      She ventured to ask him the question one morning, when he was in fine
      humor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; he answered, &#8220;am I not the master?&nbsp; I am
      operating at the bourse, that&rsquo;s all!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He could hardly have owned to any thing that would have frightened the
      poor woman as much.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you not afraid,&#8221; she objected, &#8220;to lose all we have
      so painfully accumulated?&nbsp; We have children&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He did not allow her to proceed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you take me for a child?&#8221; he exclaimed; &#8220;or do I
      look to you like a man so easy to be duped?&nbsp; Mind to economize in
      your household expenses, and don&rsquo;t meddle with my business.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he continued.&nbsp; And he must have been lucky in his operations; for
      he had never been so pleasant at home.&nbsp; All his ways had changed.&nbsp;
      He had had clothes made at a first-class tailor&rsquo;s, and was evidently
      trying to look elegant.&nbsp; He gave up his pipe, and smoked only cigars.&nbsp;
      He got tired of giving every morning the money for the house, and took the
      habit of handing it to his wife every week, on Sunday.&nbsp; A mark of
      vast confidence, as he observed to her.&nbsp; And so, the first time:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be careful,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that you don&rsquo;t find yourself
      penniless before Thursday.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He became also more communicative.&nbsp; Often during the dinner, he would
      tell what he had heard during the day, anecdotes, gossip.&nbsp; He
      enumerated the persons with whom he had spoken.&nbsp; He named a number of
      people whom he called his friends, and whose names Mme. Favoral carefully
      stored away in her memory.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was one especially, who seemed to inspire him with a profound
      respect, a boundless admiration, and of whom he never tired of talking.&nbsp;
      He was, said he, a man of his age,&#8212;M. de Thaller, the Baron de
      Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This one,&#8221; he kept repeating, &#8220;is really mad:&nbsp; he
      is rich, he has ideas, he&rsquo;ll go far.&nbsp; It would be a great piece of
      luck if I could get him to do something for me!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Until at last one day:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your parents were very rich once?&#8221; he asked his wife.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have heard it said,&#8221; she answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They spent a good deal of money, did they not?&nbsp; They had
      friends:&nbsp; they gave dinner-parties.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, they received a good deal of company.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You remember that time?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Surely I do.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So that if I should take a fancy to receive some one here, some one
      of note, you would know how to do things properly?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He remained silent for a moment, like a man who thinks before taking an
      important decision, and then:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I wish to invite a few persons to dinner,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; She
      could scarcely believe her ears.&nbsp; He had never received at his table
      any one but a fellow-clerk at the factory, named Desclavettes, who had
      just married the daughter of a dealer in bronzes, and succeeded to his
      business.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it possible?&#8221; exclaimed Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So it is.&nbsp; The question is now, how much would a first-class
      dinner cost, the best of every thing?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That depends upon the number of guests.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Say three or four persons.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor woman set herself to figuring diligently for some time; and then
      timidly, for the sum seemed formidable to her:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think,&#8221; she began, &#8220;that with a hundred francs&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her husband commenced whistling.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You&rsquo;ll need that for the wines alone;&#8221; he interrupted.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Do you take me for a fool?&nbsp; But here, don&rsquo;t let us go into
      figures.&nbsp; Do as your parents did when they did their best; and, if
      it&rsquo;s well, I shall not complain of the expense.&nbsp; Take a good cook,
      hire a waiter who understands his business well.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was utterly confounded; and yet she was not at the end of her
      surprises.
    </p>
    <p>
      Soon M. Favoral declared that their table-ware was not suitable, and that
      he must buy a new set.&nbsp; He discovered a hundred purchases to be made,
      and swore that he would make them.&nbsp; He even hesitated a moment about
      renewing the parlor furniture, although it was in tolerably good condition
      still, and was a present from his father-in-law.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, having finished his inventory:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you,&#8221; he asked his wife:&nbsp; &#8220;what dress will you
      wear?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have my black silk dress&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He stopped her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Which means that you have none at all,&#8221; he said.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Very well.&nbsp; You must go this very day and get yourself one,&#8212;a
      very handsome, a magnificent one; and you&rsquo;ll send it to be made to a
      fashionable dressmaker.&nbsp; And at the same time you had better get some
      little suits for Maxence and Gilberte.&nbsp; Here are a thousand francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Completely bewildered:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who in the world are you going to invite, then?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Baron and the Baroness de Thaller,&#8221; he replied with an
      emphasis full of conviction.&nbsp; &#8220;So try and distinguish yourself.&nbsp;
      Our fortune is at stake.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That this dinner was a matter of considerable import, Mme. Favoral could
      not doubt when she saw her husband&rsquo;s fabulous liberality continue without
      flinching for a number of days.
    </p>
    <p>
      Ten times of an afternoon he would come home to tell his wife the name of
      some dish that had been mentioned before him, or to consult her on the
      subject of some exotic viand he had just noticed in some shop-window.&nbsp;
      Daily he brought home wines of the most fantastic vintages,&#8212;those
      wines which dealers manufacture for the special use of verdant fools, and
      which they sell in odd-shaped bottles previously overlaid with secular
      dust and cobwebs.
    </p>
    <p>
      He subjected to a protracted cross-examination the cook whom Mme. Favoral
      had engaged, and demanded that she should enumerate the houses where she
      had cooked.&nbsp; He absolutely required the man who was to wait at the
      table to exhibit the dress-coat he was to wear.
    </p>
    <p>
      The great day having come, he did not stir from the house, going and
      coming from the kitchen to the dining-room, uneasy, agitated, unable to
      stay in one place.&nbsp; He breathed only when he had seen the table set
      and loaded with the new china he had purchased and the magnificent silver
      he had gone to hire in person.&nbsp; And when his young wife made her
      appearance, looking lovely in her new dress, and leading by the hands the
      two children, Maxence and Gilberte, in their new suits:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s perfect,&#8221; he exclaimed, highly delighted.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Nothing could be better.&nbsp; Now, let our four guests come!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They arrived a few minutes before seven, in two carriages, the
      magnificence of which astonished the Rue St. Gilles.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, the presentations over, Vincent Favoral had at last the ineffable
      satisfaction to see seated at his table the Baron and Baroness de Thaller,
      M. Saint Pavin, who called himself a financial editor, and M. Jules
      Jottras, of the house of Jottras &amp; Brother.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was with an eager curiosity that Mme. Favoral observed these people
      whom her husband called his friends, and whom she saw herself for the
      first time.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Thaller, who could not then have been much over thirty, was already
      a man without any particular age.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cold, stiff, aping evidently the English style, he expressed himself in
      brief sentences, and with a strong foreign accent.&nbsp; Nothing to
      surprise on his countenance.&nbsp; He had the forehead prominent, the eyes
      of a dull blue, and the nose very thin.&nbsp; His scanty hair was spread
      over the top of his head with labored symmetry; and his red, thick, and
      carefully-trimmed whiskers seemed to engross much of his attention.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Saint Pavin had not the same stiff manner.&nbsp; Careless in his dress,
      he lacked breeding.&nbsp; He was a robust fellow, dark and bearded, with
      thick lips, the eye bright and prominent, spreading upon the table-cloth
      broad hands ornamented at the joints with small tufts of hair, speaking
      loud, laughing noisily, eating much and drinking more.
    </p>
    <p>
      By the side of him, M. Jules Jottras, although looking like a
      fashion-plate, did not show to much advantage.&nbsp; Delicate, blonde,
      sallow, almost beardless, M. Jottras distinguished himself only by a sort
      of unconscious impudence, a harmless cynicism, and a sort of spasmodic
      giggle, that shook the eye-glasses which he wore stuck over his nose.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was above all Mme. de Thaller who excited Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s
      apprehensions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Dressed with a magnificence of at least questionable taste, very much <i>decolletee</i>,
      wearing large diamonds at her ears, and rings on all her fingers, the
      young baroness was insolently handsome, of a beauty sensuous even to
      coarseness.&nbsp; With hair of a bluish black, twisted over the neck in
      heavy ringlets, she had skin of a pearly whiteness, lips redder than
      blood, and great eyes that threw flames from beneath their long, curved
      lashes.&nbsp; It was the poetry of flesh; and one could not help admiring.&nbsp;
      Did she speak, however, or make a gesture, all admiration vanished.&nbsp;
      The voice was vulgar, the motion common.&nbsp; Did M. Jottras venture upon
      a double-entendre, she would throw herself back upon her chair to laugh,
      stretching her neck, and thrusting her throat forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wholly absorbed in the care of his guests, M. Favoral remarked nothing.&nbsp;
      He only thought of loading the plates, and filling the glasses,
      complaining that they ate and drank nothing, asking anxiously if the
      cooking was not good, if the wines were bad, and almost driving the waiter
      out of his wits with questions and suggestions.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is a fact, that neither M. de Thaller nor M. Jottras had much appetite.&nbsp;
      But M. Saint Pavin officiated for all; and the sole task of keeping up
      with him caused M. Favoral to become visibly animated.
    </p>
    <p>
      His cheeks were much flushed, when, having passed the champagne all
      around, he raised his froth-tipped glass, exclaiming:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I drink to the success of the business.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To the success of the business,&#8221; echoed the others, touching
      his glass.
    </p>
    <p>
      And a few moments later they passed into the parlor to take coffee.
    </p>
    <p>
      This toast had caused Mme. Favoral no little uneasiness.&nbsp; But she
      found it impossible to ask a single question; Mme. de Thaller dragging her
      almost by force to a seat by her side on the sofa, pretending that two
      women always have secrets to exchange, even when they see each other for
      the first time.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young baroness was fully <i>au fait</i> in matters of bonnets and
      dresses; and it was with giddy volubility that she asked Mme. Favoral the
      names of her milliner and her dressmaker, and to what jeweler she
      intrusted her diamonds to be reset.
    </p>
    <p>
      This looked so much like a joke, that the poor housekeeper of the Rue St.
      Gilles could not help smiling whilst answering that she had no dressmaker,
      and that, having no diamonds, she had no possible use for the services of
      a jeweler.
    </p>
    <p>
      The other declared she could not get over it.&nbsp; No diamonds!&nbsp;
      That was a misfortune exceeding all.&nbsp; And quick she seized the
      opportunity charitably to enumerate the parures in her jewel-case, and
      laces in her drawers, and the dresses in her wardrobes.&nbsp; In the first
      place, it would have been impossible for her, she swore, to live with a
      husband either miserly or poor.&nbsp; Hers had just presented her with a
      lovely coupe, lined with yellow satin, a perfect bijou.&nbsp; And she made
      good use of it too; for she loved to go about.&nbsp; She spent her days
      shopping, or riding in the Bois.&nbsp; Every evening she had the choice of
      the theatre or a ball, often both.&nbsp; The genre theatres were those she
      preferred.&nbsp; To be sure, the opera and the Italiens were more stylish;
      but she could not help gaping there.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then she wished to kiss the children; and Gilberte and Maxence had to be
      brought in.&nbsp; She adored children, she vowed:&nbsp; it was her
      weakness, her passion.&nbsp; She had herself a little girl, eighteen
      months old, called Cesarine, to whom she was devoted; and certainly she
      would have brought her, had she not feared she would have been in the way.
    </p>
    <p>
      All this verbiage sounded like a confused murmur to Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s ears.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Yes, no,&#8221; she answered, hardly knowing to what she did
      answer.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her head heavy with a vague apprehension, it required her utmost attention
      to observe her husband and his guests.
    </p>
    <p>
      Standing by the mantel-piece, smoking their cigars, they conversed with
      considerable animation, but not loud enough to enable her to hear all they
      said.&nbsp; It was only when M. Saint Pavin spoke that she understood that
      they were still discussing the &#8220;business;&#8221; for he spoke of
      articles to publish, stocks to sell, dividends to distribute, sure profits
      to reap.
    </p>
    <p>
      They all, at any rate, seemed to agree perfectly; and at a certain moment
      she saw her husband and M. de Thaller strike each other&rsquo;s hand, as people
      do who exchange a pledge.
    </p>
    <p>
      Eleven o&rsquo;clock struck.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral was insisting to make his guests accept a cup of tea or a glass
      of punch; but M. de Thaller declared that he had some work to do, and
      that, his carriage having come, he must go.
    </p>
    <p>
      And go he did, taking with him the baroness, followed by M. Saint Pavin
      and M. Jottras.&nbsp; And when, the door having closed upon them, M.
      Favoral found himself alone with his wife,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; he exclaimed, swelling with gratified vanity, &#8220;what
      do you think of our friends?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They surprised me,&#8221; she answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      He fairly jumped at that word.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I should like to know why?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then, timidly, and with infinite precautions, she commenced explaining
      that M. de Thaller&rsquo;s face inspired her with no confidence; that M. Jottras
      had seemed to her a very impudent personage; that M. Saint Pavin appeared
      low and vulgar; and that, finally, the young baroness had given her of
      herself the most singular idea.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral refused to hear more.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s because you have never seen people of the best society,&#8221;
      he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Excuse me.&nbsp; Formerly, during my mother&rsquo;s life&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Eh!&nbsp; Your mother never received but shop-keepers.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor woman dropped her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg of you, Vincent,&#8221; she insisted, &#8220;before doing any
      thing with these new friends, think well, consult&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He burst out laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you not afraid that they will cheat me?&#8221; he said,&#8212;&#8220;people
      ten times as rich as we are.&nbsp; Here, don&rsquo;t let us speak of it any
      more, and let us go to bed.&nbsp; You&rsquo;ll see what this dinner will bring
      us, and whether I ever have reason to regret the money we have spent.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      VIII
    </h2>
    <p>
      When, on the morning after this dinner, which was to form an era in her
      life, Mme. Favoral woke up, her husband was already up, pencil in hand,
      and busy figuring.
    </p>
    <p>
      The charm had vanished with the fumes of the champagne; and the clouds of
      the worst days were gathering upon his brow.
    </p>
    <p>
      Noticing that his wife was looking at him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s expensive work,&#8221; he said in a bluff tone, &#8220;to set
      a business going; and it wouldn&rsquo;t do to commence over again every day.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To hear him speak, one would have thought that Mme. Favoral alone, by dint
      of hard begging, had persuaded him into that expense which he now seemed
      to regret so much.&nbsp; She quietly called his attention to the fact,
      reminding him that, far from urging, she had endeavored to hold him back;
      repeating that she augured ill of that business over which he was so
      enthusiastic, and that, if he would believe her, he would not venture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you even know what the project is?&#8221; he interrupted rudely.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have not told me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, then:&nbsp; leave me in peace with your presentiments.&nbsp;
      You dislike my friends; and I saw very well how you treated Mme. de
      Thaller.&nbsp; But I am the master; and what I have decided shall be.&nbsp;
      Besides, I have signed.&nbsp; Once for all, I forbid you ever speaking to
      me again on that subject.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whereupon, having dressed himself with much care, he started off, saying
      that he was expected at breakfast by Saint Pavin, the financial editor,
      and by M. Jottras, of the house of Jottras &amp; Brother.
    </p>
    <p>
      A shrewd woman would not have given it up so easy, and, in the end, would
      probably have mastered the despot, whose intellect was far from brilliant.&nbsp;
      But Mme. Favoral was too proud to be shrewd; and besides, the springs of
      her will had been broken by the successive oppression of an odious
      stepmother and a brutal master.&nbsp; Her abdication of all was complete.&nbsp;
      Wounded, she kept the secret of her wound, hung her head, and said
      nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      She did not, therefore, venture a single allusion; and nearly a week
      elapsed, during which the names of her late guests were not once
      mentioned.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was through a newspaper, which M. Favoral had forgotten in the parlor,
      that she learned that the Baron de Thaller had just founded a new stock
      company, the Mutual Credit Society, with a capital of several millions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Below the advertisement, which was printed in enormous letters, came a
      long article, in which it was demonstrated that the new company was, at
      the same time, a patriotic undertaking and an institution of credit of the
      first class; that it supplied a great public want; that it would be of
      inestimable benefit to industry; that its profits were assured; and that
      to subscribe to its stock was simply to draw short bills upon fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already somewhat re-assured by the reading of this article, Mme. Favoral
      became quite so when she read the names of the board of directors.&nbsp;
      Nearly all were titled, and decorated with many foreign orders; and the
      remainder were bankers, office-holders, and even some ex-ministers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must have been mistaken,&#8221; she thought, yielding
      unconsciously to the influence of printed evidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      And no objection occurred to her, when, a few days later, her husband told
      her,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have the situation I wanted.&nbsp; I am head cashier of the
      company of which M. de Thaller is manager.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That was all.&nbsp; Of the nature of this society, of the advantages which
      it offered him, not one word.
    </p>
    <p>
      Only by the way in which he expressed himself did Mme. Favoral judge that
      he must have been well treated; and he further confirmed her in that
      opinion by granting her, of his own accord, a few additional francs for
      the daily expenses of the house.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We must,&#8221; he declared on this memorable occasion, &#8220;do
      honor to our social position, whatever it may cost.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time in his life, he seemed heedful of public opinion.&nbsp;
      He recommended his wife to be careful of her dress and of that of the
      children, and re-engaged a servant.&nbsp; He expressed the wish of
      enlarging their circle of acquaintances, and inaugurated his Saturday
      dinners, to which came assiduously, M. and Mme. Desclavettes, M. Chapelain
      the attorney, the old man Desormeaux, and a few others.
    </p>
    <p>
      As to himself he gradually settled down into those habits from which he
      was nevermore to depart, and the chronometric regularity of which had
      secured him the nickname of Old Punctuality, of which he was proud.
    </p>
    <p>
      In all other respects never did a man, to such a degree, become so utterly
      indifferent to his wife and children.&nbsp; His house was for him but a
      mere hotel, where he slept, and took his evening meal.&nbsp; He never
      thought of questioning his wife as to the use of her time, and what she
      did in his absence.&nbsp; Provided she did not ask him for money, and was
      there when he came home, he was satisfied.
    </p>
    <p>
      Many women, at Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s age, might have made a strange use of that
      insulting indifference and of that absolute freedom.
    </p>
    <p>
      If she did avail herself of it, it was solely to follow one of those
      inspirations which can only spring in a mother&rsquo;s heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      The increase in the budget of the household was relatively large, but so
      nicely calculated, that she had not one cent more that she could call her
      own.
    </p>
    <p>
      With the most intense sorrow, she thought that her children might have to
      endure the humiliating privations which had made her own life wretched.&nbsp;
      They were too young yet to suffer from the paternal parsimony; but they
      would grow; their desires would develop; and it would be impossible for
      her to grant them the most innocent satisfactions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whilst turning over and over in her mind this distressing thought, she
      remembered a friend of her mother&rsquo;s, who kept, in the Rue St. Denis, a
      large establishment for the sale of hosiery and woollen goods.&nbsp;
      There, perhaps, lay the solution of the problem.&nbsp; She called to see
      the worthy woman, and, without even needing to confess the whole truth to
      her, she obtained sundry pieces of work, ill paid as a matter of course,
      but which, by dint of close application, might be made to yield from eight
      to twelve francs a week.
    </p>
    <p>
      From this time she never lost a minute, concealing her work as if it were
      an evil act.
    </p>
    <p>
      She knew her husband well enough to feel certain that he would break out,
      and swear that he spent money enough to enable his wife to live without
      being reduced to making a work woman of herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      But what joy, the day when she hid way down at the bottom of a drawer the
      first twenty-franc-piece she had earned, a beautiful gold-piece, which
      belonged to her without contest, and which she might spend as she pleased,
      without having to render any account to any one!
    </p>
    <p>
      And with what pride, from week to week, she saw her little treasure swell,
      despite the drafts she made upon it, sometimes to buy a toy for Maxence,
      sometimes to add a few ribbons or trinkets to Gilberte&rsquo;s toilet!
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the happiest time of her life, a halt in that painful journey
      through which she had been dragging herself for so many years.&nbsp;
      Between her two children, the hours flew light and rapid as so many
      seconds.&nbsp; If all the hopes of the young girl and of the woman had
      withered before they had blossomed, the mother&rsquo;s joys at least should not
      fail her.&nbsp; Because, whilst the present sufficed to her modest
      ambition, the future had ceased to cause her any uneasiness.
    </p>
    <p>
      No reference had ever been made, between herself and her husband, to that
      famous dinner-party:&nbsp; he never spoke to her of the Mutual Credit
      Society; but now and then he allowed some words or exclamations to escape,
      which she carefully recorded, and which betrayed a prosperous state of
      affairs.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That Thaller is a tough fellow!&#8221; he would exclaim, &#8220;and
      he has the most infernal luck!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And at other times,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Two or three more operations like the one we have just successfully
      wound up, and we can shut up shop!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      From all this, what could she conclude, if not that he was marching with
      rapid strides towards that fortune, the object of all his ambition?
    </p>
    <p>
      Already in the neighborhood he had that reputation to be very rich, which
      is the beginning of riches itself.&nbsp; He was admired for keeping his
      house with such rigid economy; for a man is always esteemed who has money,
      and does not spend it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is not the man ever to squander what he has,&#8221; the
      neighbors repeated.
    </p>
    <p>
      The persons whom he received on Saturdays believed him more than
      comfortably off.&nbsp; When M. Desclavettes and M. Chapelain had
      complained to their hearts&rsquo; contents, the one of the shop, the other of
      his office, they never failed to add,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You laugh at us, because you are engaged in large operations, where
      people make as much money as they like.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They seemed to hold his financial capacities in high estimation.&nbsp;
      They consulted him, and followed his advice.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Desormeaux was wont to say,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh! he knows what he is about.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And Mme. Favoral tried to persuade herself, that, in this respect at
      least, her husband was a remarkable man.&nbsp; She attributed his silence
      and his distractions to the grave cares that filled his mind.&nbsp; In the
      same manner that he had once announced to her that they had enough to live
      on, she expected him, some fine morning, to tell her that he was a
      millionaire.
    </p>
    <h2>
      IX
    </h2>
    <p>
      But the respite granted by fate to Mme. Favoral was drawing to an end:&nbsp;
      her trials were about to return more poignant than ever, occasioned, this
      time, by her children, hitherto her whole happiness and her only
      consolation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was nearly twelve.&nbsp; He was a good little fellow, intelligent,
      studious at times, but thoughtless in the extreme, and of a turbulence
      which nothing could tame.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the Massin School, where he had been sent, he made his teachers&rsquo; hair
      turn white; and not a week went by that he did not signalize himself by
      some fresh misdeed.
    </p>
    <p>
      A father like any other would have paid but slight attention to the pranks
      of a schoolboy, who, after all, ranked among the first of his class, and
      of whom the teachers themselves, whilst complaining, said,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&nbsp; What matters it, since the heart is sound and the mind
      sane?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. Favoral took every thing tragically.&nbsp; If Maxence was kept in,
      or otherwise punished, he pretended that it reflected upon himself, and
      that his son was disgracing him.
    </p>
    <p>
      If a report came home with this remark, &#8220;execrable conduct,&#8221;
      he fell into the most violent passion, and seemed to lose all control of
      himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At your age,&#8221; he would shout to the terrified boy, &#8220;I
      was working in a factory, and earning my livelihood.&nbsp; Do you suppose
      that I will not tire of making sacrifices to procure you the advantages of
      an education which I lacked myself?&nbsp; Beware.&nbsp; Havre is not far
      off; and cabin-boys are always in demand there.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      If, at least, he had confined himself to these admonitions, which, by
      their very exaggeration, failed in their object!&nbsp; But he favored
      mechanical appliances as a necessary means of sufficiently impressing
      reprimands upon the minds of young people; and therefore, seizing his
      cane, he would beat poor Maxence most unmercifully, the more so that the
      boy, filled with pride, would have allowed himself to be chopped to pieces
      rather than utter a cry, or shed a tear.
    </p>
    <p>
      The first time that Mme. Favoral saw her son struck, she was seized with
      one of those wild fits of anger which do not reason, and never forgive.&nbsp;
      To be beaten herself would have seemed to her less atrocious, less
      humiliating.&nbsp; Hitherto she had found it impossible to love a husband
      such as hers:&nbsp; henceforth, she took him in utter aversion:&nbsp; he
      inspired her with horror.&nbsp; She looked upon her son as a martyr for
      whom she could hardly ever do enough.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so, after these harrowing scenes, she would press him to her heart in
      the most passionate embrace; she would cover with her kisses the traces of
      the blows; and she would strive, by the most delirious caresses, to make
      him forget the paternal brutalities.&nbsp; With him she sobbed.&nbsp; Like
      him, she would shake her clinched fists in the vacant space; exclaiming,
      &#8220;Coward, tyrant, assassin!&#8221;&nbsp; The little Gilberte mingled
      her tears with theirs; and, pressed against each other, they deplored
      their destiny, cursing the common enemy, the head of the family.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus did Maxence spend his boyhood between equally fatal exaggerations,
      between the revolting brutalities of his father, and the dangerous
      caresses of his mother; the one depriving him of every thing, the other
      refusing him nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      For Mme. Favoral had now found a use for her humble savings.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the idea had never come to the cashier of the Mutual Credit Society to
      put a few sous in his son&rsquo;s pocket, the too weak mother would have
      suggested to him the want of money in order to have the pleasure of
      gratifying it.
    </p>
    <p>
      She who had suffered so many humiliations in her life, she could not bear
      the idea of her son having his pride wounded, and being unable to indulge
      in those little trifling expenses which are the vanity of schoolboys.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here, take this,&#8221; she would tell him on holidays, slipping a
      few francs into his hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      Unfortunately, to her present she joined the recommendation not to allow
      his father to know any thing about it; forgetting that she was thus
      training Maxence to dissimulate, warping his natural sense of right, and
      perverting his instincts.
    </p>
    <p>
      No, she gave; and, to repair the gaps thus made in her treasure, she
      worked to the point of ruining her sight, with such eager zeal, that the
      worthy shop-keeper of the Rue St. Denis asked her if she did not employ
      working girls.&nbsp; In truth, the only help she received was from
      Gilberte, who, at the age of eight, already knew how to make herself
      useful.
    </p>
    <p>
      And this is not all.&nbsp; For this son, in anticipation of growing
      expenses, she stooped to expedients which formerly would have seemed to
      her unworthy and disgraceful.&nbsp; She robbed the household, cheating on
      her own marketing.&nbsp; She went so far as to confide to her servant, and
      to make of the girl the accomplice of her operations.&nbsp; She applied
      all her ingenuity to serve to M. Favoral dinners in which the excellence
      of the dressing concealed the want of solid substance.&nbsp; And on
      Sunday, when she rendered her weekly accounts, it was without a blush that
      she increased by a few centimes the price of each object, rejoicing when
      she had thus scraped a dozen francs, and finding, to justify herself to
      her own eyes, those sophisms which passion never lacks.
    </p>
    <p>
      At first Maxence was too young to wonder from what sources his mother drew
      the money she lavished upon his schoolboy fancies.&nbsp; She recommended
      him to hide from his father:&nbsp; he did so, and thought it perfectly
      natural.
    </p>
    <p>
      As he grew older, he learned to discern.
    </p>
    <p>
      The moment came when he opened his eyes upon the system under which the
      paternal household was managed.&nbsp; He noticed there that anxious
      economy which seems to betray want, and the acrimonious discussions which
      arose upon the inconsiderate use of a twenty-franc-piece.&nbsp; He saw his
      mother realize miracles of industry to conceal the shabbiness of her
      toilets, and resort to the most skillful diplomacy when she wished to
      purchase a dress for Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, despite all this, he had at his disposition as much money as those of
      his comrades whose parents had the reputation to be the most opulent and
      the most generous.
    </p>
    <p>
      Anxious, he questioned his mother.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Eh, what does it matter?&#8221; she answered, blushing and
      confused.&nbsp; &#8220;Is that any thing to worry you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as he insisted,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go ahead,&#8221; she said:&nbsp; &#8220;we are rich enough.&#8221;&nbsp;
      But he could hardly believe her, accustomed as he was to hear every one
      talk of poverty; and, as he fixed upon her his great astonished eyes,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes,&#8221; she resumed, with an imprudence which fatally was to
      bear its fruits, &#8220;we are rich; and, if we live as you see, it is
      because it suits your father, who wishes to amass a still greater fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This was hardly an answer; and yet Maxence asked no further question.&nbsp;
      But he inquired here and there, with that patient shrewdness of young
      people possessed with a fixed idea.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already, at this time, M. Favoral had in the neighborhood, and ever among
      his friends, the reputation to be worth at least a million.&nbsp; The
      Mutual Credit Society had considerably developed itself:&nbsp; he must,
      they thought, have benefitted largely by the circumstance; and the profits
      must have swelled rapidly in the hands of so able a man, and one so noted
      for his rigid economy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Such is the substance of what Maxence heard; and people did not fail to
      add ironically, that he need not rely upon the paternal fortune to amuse
      himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Desormeaux himself, whom he had &#8220;pumped&#8221; rather cleverly,
      had told him, whilst patting him amicably on the shoulder,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If you ever need money for your frolics, young man, try and earn
      it; for I&rsquo;ll be hanged if it&rsquo;s the old man who&rsquo;ll ever supply it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Such answers complicated, instead of explaining, the problem which
      occupied Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      He observed, he watched; and at last he acquired the certainty that the
      money he spent was the fruit of the joint labor of his mother and sister.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! why not have told me so?&#8221; he exclaimed, throwing his arms
      around his mother&rsquo;s neck.&nbsp; &#8220;Why have exposed me to the bitter
      regrets which I feel at this moment?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      By this sole word the poor woman found herself amply repaid.&nbsp; She
      admired the <i>noblesse</i> of her son&rsquo;s feelings and the kindness of his
      heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you not understand,&#8221; she told him, shedding tears of joy,
      &#8220;do you not see, that the labor which can promote her son&rsquo;s pleasure
      is a happiness for his mother?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he was dismayed at his discovery.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No matter!&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;I swear that I shall no
      longer scatter to the winds, as I have been doing, the money that you give
      me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For a few weeks, indeed, he was faithful to his pledge.&nbsp; But at
      fifteen resolutions are not very stanch.&nbsp; The impressions he had felt
      wore off.&nbsp; He became tired of the small privations which he had to
      impose upon himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      He soon came to take to the letter what his mother had told him, and to
      prove to his own satisfaction that to deprive himself of a pleasure was to
      deprive her.&nbsp; He asked for ten francs one day, then ten francs
      another, and gradually resumed his old habits.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was at this time about leaving school.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The moment has come,&#8221; said M. Favoral, &#8220;for him to
      select a career, and support himself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      X
    </h2>
    <p>
      To think of a profession, Maxence Favoral had not waited for the paternal
      warnings.
    </p>
    <p>
      Modern schoolboys are precocious:&nbsp; they know the strong and the weak
      side of life; and, when they take their degree, they already have but few
      illusions left.
    </p>
    <p>
      And how could it be otherwise?&nbsp; In the interior of the colleges is
      fatally found the echo of the thoughts, and the reflex of the manners, of
      the time.&nbsp; Neither walls nor keepers can avail.&nbsp; At the same
      time, as the city mud that stains their boots, the scholars bring back on
      their return from holidays their stock of observations and of facts.
    </p>
    <p>
      And what have they seen during the day in their families, or among their
      friends?
    </p>
    <p>
      Ardent cravings, insatiable appetites for luxuries, comforts, enjoyments,
      pleasures, contempt for patient labor, scorn for austere convictions,
      eager longing for money, the will to become rich at any cost, and the firm
      resolution to ravish fortune on the first favorable occasion.
    </p>
    <p>
      To be sure, they have dissembled in their presence; but their perceptions
      are keen.
    </p>
    <p>
      True, their father has told them in a grave tone, that there is nothing
      respectable in this world except labor and honesty; but they have caught
      that same father scarcely noticing a poor devil of an honest man, and
      bowing to the earth before some clever rascal bearing the stigma of three
      judgments, but worth six millions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Conclusion?&nbsp; Oh! they know very well how to conclude; for there are
      none such as young people to be logical, and to deduce the utmost
      consequences of a fact.
    </p>
    <p>
      They know, the most of them, that they will have to do something or other;
      but what?&nbsp; And it is then, that, during the recreations, their
      imagination strives to find that hitherto unknown profession which is to
      give them fortune without work, and freedom at the same time as a
      brilliant situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      They discuss and criticise freely all the careers which are open to
      youthful ambition.&nbsp; And how they laugh, if some simple fellow
      ventures upon suggesting some of those modest situations where they earn
      one hundred and fifty francs a month at the start!&nbsp; One hundred and
      fifty francs!&#8212;why, it&rsquo;s hardly as much as many a boy spends for his
      cigars, and his cab-fares when he is late.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was neither better nor worse than the rest.&nbsp; Like the rest he
      strove to discover the ideal profession which makes a man rich, and amuses
      him at the same time.
    </p>
    <p>
      Under the pretext that he drew nicely, he spoke of becoming a painter,
      calculating coolly what painting may yield, and reckoning, according to
      some newspaper, the earnings of Corot or Geroine, Ziem, Bouguereau, and
      some others, who are reaping at last the fruits of unceasing efforts and
      crushing labors.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, in the way of pictures, M. Vincent Favoral appreciated only the blue
      vignettes of the Bank of France.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I wish no artists in my family,&#8221; he said, in a tone that
      admitted of no reply.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence would willingly have become an engineer, for it&rsquo;s rather the style
      to be an engineer now-a-days; but the examinations for the Polytechnic
      School are rather steep.&nbsp; Or else a cavalry officer; but the two
      years at Saint Cyr are not very gay.&nbsp; Or chief clerk, like M.
      Desormeaux; but he would have to begin by being supernumerary.
    </p>
    <p>
      Finally after hesitating for a long time between law and medicine, he made
      up his mind to become a lawyer, influenced above all, by the joyous
      legends of the Latin quarter.
    </p>
    <p>
      That was not exactly M. Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s dream.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s going to cost money again,&#8221; he growled.
    </p>
    <p>
      The fact is, he had indulged in the fallacious hope that his son, as soon
      as he left college, would enter at once some business-house, where he
      would earn enough to take care of himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      He yielded at last, however, to the persistent entreaties of his wife, and
      the solicitations of his friends.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be it so,&#8221; he said to Maxence:&nbsp; &#8220;you will study
      law.&nbsp; Only, as it cannot suit me that you should waste your days
      lounging in the billiard-rooms of the left bank, you shall at the same
      time work in an attorney&rsquo;s office.&nbsp; Next Saturday I shall arrange
      with my friend Chapelain.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had not bargained for such an arrangement; and he came near
      backing out at the prospect of a discipline which he foresaw must be as
      exacting as that of the college.
    </p>
    <p>
      Still, as he could think of nothing better, he persevered.&nbsp; And,
      vacations over, he was duly entered at the law-school, and settled at a
      desk in M. Chapelain&rsquo;s office, which was then in the Rue St. Antoine.
    </p>
    <p>
      The first year every thing went on tolerably.&nbsp; He enjoyed as much
      freedom as he cared to.&nbsp; His father did not allow him one centime for
      his pocket-money; but the attorney, in his capacity of an old friend of
      the family, did for him what he had never done before for an amateur
      clerk, and allowed him twenty francs a month.&nbsp; Mme. Favoral adding to
      this a few five-franc pieces, Maxence declared himself entirely satisfied.
    </p>
    <p>
      Unfortunately, with his lively imagination and his impetuous temper, no
      one was less fit than himself for that peaceful existence, that steady
      toil, the same each day, without the stimulus of difficulties to overcome,
      or the satisfaction of results obtained.
    </p>
    <p>
      Before long he became tired of it.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had found at the law-school a number of his old schoolmates whose
      parents resided in the provinces, and who, consequently, lived as they
      pleased in the Latin quarter, less assiduous to the lectures than to the
      Spring Brewery and the Closerie des Lilas.[*] <br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [ *
      A noted dancing-garden. ]
    </p>
    <p>
      He envied them their joyous life, their freedom without control, their
      facile pleasures, their furnished rooms, and even the low eating-house
      where they took their meals.&nbsp; And, as much as possible, he lived with
      them and like them.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it is not with M. Chapelain&rsquo;s twenty francs that it would have been
      possible for him to keep up with fellows, who, with superb recklessness,
      took on credit everything they could get, reserving the amount of their
      allowance for those amusements which had to be paid for in cash.
    </p>
    <p>
      But was not Mme. Favoral here?
    </p>
    <p>
      She had worked so much, the poor woman, especially since Mlle. Gilberte
      had become almost a young lady; she had so much saved, so much stinted,
      that her reserve, notwithstanding repeated drafts, amounted to a good
      round sum.
    </p>
    <p>
      When Maxence wanted two or three napoleons, he had but a word to say; and
      he said it often.&nbsp; Thus, after a while, he became an excellent
      billiard-player; he kept his colored meerschaum in the rack of a popular
      brewery; he took absinthe before dinner, and spent his evenings in the
      laudable effort to ascertain how many mugs of beer he could &#8220;put
      away.&#8221;&nbsp; Gaining in audacity, he danced at Bullier&rsquo;s, dined at
      Foyd&rsquo;s, and at last had a mistress.
    </p>
    <p>
      So much so, that one afternoon, M. Favoral having to visit on business the
      other side of the water, found himself face to face with his son, who was
      coming along, a cigar in his mouth, and having on his arm a young lady,
      painted in superior style, and harnessed with a toilet calculated to make
      the cab-horses rear.
    </p>
    <p>
      He returned to the Rue St. Gilles in a state of indescribable rage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A woman!&#8221; he exclaimed in a tone of offended modesty.&nbsp;
      &#8220;A woman! &#8212;he, my son!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And when that son made his appearance, looking quite sheepish, his first
      impulse was to resort to his former mode of correction.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence was now over nineteen years of age.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the sight of the uplifted cane, he became whiter than his shirt; and,
      wrenching it from his father&rsquo;s hands, he broke it across his knees, threw
      the pieces violently upon the floor, and sprang out of the house.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He shall never again set his foot here!&#8221; screamed the cashier
      of the Mutual Credit, thrown beside himself by an act of resistance which
      seemed to him unheard of.&nbsp; &#8220;I banish him.&nbsp; Let his clothes
      be packed up, and taken to some hotel:&nbsp; I never want to see him
      again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For a long time Mme. Favoral and Gilberte fairly dragged themselves at his
      feet, before he consented to recall his determination.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He will disgrace us all!&#8221; he kept repeating, seeming unable
      to understand that it was himself who had, as it were, driven Maxence on
      to the fatal road which he was pursuing, forgetting that the absurd
      severities of the father prepared the way for the perilous indulgence of
      the mother, unwilling to own that the head of a family has other duties
      besides providing food and shelter for his wife and children, and that a
      father has but little right to complain who has not known how to make
      himself the friend and the adviser of his son.
    </p>
    <p>
      At last, after the most violent recriminations, he forgave, in appearance
      at least.
    </p>
    <p>
      But the scales had dropped from his eyes.&nbsp; He started in quest of
      information, and discovered startling enormities.
    </p>
    <p>
      He heard from M. Chapelain that Maxence remained whole weeks at a time
      without appearing at the office.&nbsp; If he had not complained before, it
      was because he had yielded to the urgent entreaties of Mme. Favoral; and
      he was now glad, he added, of an opportunity to relieve his conscience by
      a full confession.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus the cashier discovered, one by one, all his son&rsquo;s tricks.&nbsp; He
      heard that he was almost unknown at the law-school, that he spent his days
      in the Caf&eacute;s, and that, in the evening, when he believed him in bed
      and asleep, he was in fact running out to theatres and to balls.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! that&rsquo;s the way, is it?&#8221; he thought.&nbsp; &#8220;Ah, my
      wife and children are in league against me,&#8212;me, the master.&nbsp;
      Very well, we&rsquo;ll see.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XI
    </h2>
    <p>
      From that morning war was declared.
    </p>
    <p>
      From that day commenced in the Rue St. Gilles one of those domestic dramas
      which are still awaiting their Moliere,&#8212;a drama of distressing
      vulgarity and sickening realism, but poignant, nevertheless; for it
      brought into action tears, blood, and a savage energy.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral thought himself sure to win; for did he not have the key of the
      cash, and is not the key of the cash the most formidable weapon in an age
      where every thing begins and ends with money?
    </p>
    <p>
      Nevertheless, he was filled with irritating anxieties.
    </p>
    <p>
      He who had just discovered so many things which he did not even suspect a
      few days before, he could not discover the source whence his son drew the
      money which flowed like water from his prodigal hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had made sure that Maxence had no debts; and yet it could not be with
      M. Chapelain&rsquo;s monthly twenty francs that he fed his frolics.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral and Gilberte, subjected separately to a skillful
      interrogatory, had managed to keep inviolate the secret of their mercenary
      labor.&nbsp; The servant, shrewdly questioned, had said nothing that could
      in any way cause the truth to be suspected.
    </p>
    <p>
      Here was, then, a mystery; and M. Favoral&rsquo;s constant anxiety could be read
      upon his knitted brows during his brief visits to the house; that is,
      during dinner.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the manner in which he tasted his soup, it was easy to see that he
      was asking himself whether that was real soup, and whether he was not
      being imposed upon.&nbsp; From the expression of his eyes, it was easy to
      guess this question constantly present to his mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They are robbing me evidently; but how do they do it?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he became distrustful, fussy, and suspicious, to an extent that he had
      never been before.&nbsp; It was with the most insulting precautions that
      he examined every Sunday his wife&rsquo;s accounts.&nbsp; He took a look at the
      grocer&rsquo;s, and settled it himself every month:&nbsp; he had the butcher&rsquo;s
      bills sent to him in duplicate.&nbsp; He would inquire the price of an
      apple as he peeled it over his plate, and never failed to stop at the
      fruiterer&rsquo;s and ascertain that he had not been deceived.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was all in vain.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet he knew that Maxence always had in his pocket two or three
      five-franc pieces.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where do you steal them?&#8221; he asked him one day.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I save them out of my salary,&#8221; boldly answered the young man.
    </p>
    <p>
      Exasperated, M. Favoral wished to make the whole world take an interest in
      his investigations.&nbsp; And one Saturday evening, as he was talking with
      his friends, M. Chapelain, the worthy Desclavettes, and old man
      Desormeaux, pointing to his wife and daughter:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Those d---d women rob me,&#8221; he said, &#8220;for the benefit of
      my son; and they do it so cleverly that I can&rsquo;t find out how.&nbsp; They
      have an understanding with the shop-keepers, who are but licensed thieves;
      and nothing is eaten here that they don&rsquo;t make me pay double its value.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Chapelain made an ill-concealed grimace; whilst M. Desclavettes
      sincerely admired a man who had courage enough to confess his meanness.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. Desormeaux never minced things.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know, friend Vincent,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that it
      requires a strong stomach to take dinner with a man who spends his time
      calculating the cost of every mouthful that his guests swallow?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral turned red in the face.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not the expense that I deplore,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;but
      the duplicity.&nbsp; I am rich enough, thank Heaven! not to begrudge a few
      francs; and I would gladly give to my wife twice as much as she takes, if
      she would only ask it frankly.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But that was a lesson.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hereafter he was careful to dissimulate, and seemed exclusively occupied
      in subjecting his son to a system of his invention, the excessive rigor of
      which would have upset a steadier one than he.
    </p>
    <p>
      He demanded of him daily written attestations of his attendance both at
      the law-school and at the lawyer&rsquo;s office.&nbsp; He marked out the
      itinerary of his walks for him, and measured the time they required,
      within a few minutes.&nbsp; Immediately after dinner he shut him up in his
      room, under lock and key, and never failed, when he came home at ten
      o&rsquo;clock to make sure of his presence.
    </p>
    <p>
      He could not have taken steps better calculated to exalt still more Mme.
      Favoral&rsquo;s blind tenderness.
    </p>
    <p>
      When she heard that Maxence had a mistress, she had been rudely shocked in
      her most cherished feelings.&nbsp; It is never without a secret jealousy
      that a mother discovers that a woman has robbed her of her son&rsquo;s heart.&nbsp;
      She had retained a certain amount of spite against him on account of
      disorders, which, in her candor, she had never suspected.&nbsp; She
      forgave him every thing when she saw of what treatment he was the object.
    </p>
    <p>
      She took sides with him, believing him to be the victim of a most unjust
      persecution.&nbsp; In the evening, after her husband had gone out,
      Gilberte and herself would take their sewing, sit in the hall outside his
      room, and converse with him through the door.&nbsp; Never had they worked
      so hard for the shop-keeper in the Rue St. Denis.&nbsp; Some weeks they
      earned as much as twenty-five or thirty francs.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence&rsquo;s patience was exhausted; and one morning he declared
      resolutely that he would no longer attend the law-school, that he had been
      mistaken in his vocation, and that there was no human power capable to
      make him return to M. Chapelain&rsquo;s.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And where will you go?&#8221; exclaimed his father.&nbsp; &#8220;Do
      you expect me eternally to supply your wants?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He answered that it was precisely in order to support himself, and conquer
      his independence, that he had resolved to abandon a profession, which,
      after two years, yielded him twenty francs a month.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I want some business where I have a chance to get rich,&#8221; he
      replied.&nbsp; &#8220;I would like to enter a banking-house, or some great
      financial establishment.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral jumped at the idea.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s a fact,&#8221; she said to her husband.&nbsp; &#8220;Why
      couldn&rsquo;t you find a place for our son at the Mutual Credit?&nbsp; There he
      would be under your own eyes.&nbsp; Intelligent as he is, backed by M. de
      Thaller and yourself, he would soon earn a good salary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral knit his brows.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That I shall never do,&#8221; he uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;I have not
      sufficient confidence in my son.&nbsp; I cannot expose myself to have him
      compromise the consideration which I have acquired for myself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, revealing to a certain extent the secret of his conduct:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A cashier,&#8221; he added, &#8220;who like me handles immense sums
      cannot be too careful of his reputation.&nbsp; Confidence is a delicate
      thing in these times, when there are so many cashiers constantly on the
      road to Belgium.&nbsp; Who knows what would be thought of me, if I was
      known to have such a son as mine?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral was insisting, nevertheless, when he seemed to make up his
      mind suddenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Maxence is free.&nbsp; I allow
      him two years to establish himself in some position.&nbsp; That delay
      over, good-by:&nbsp; he can find board and lodging where he please.&nbsp;
      That&rsquo;s all.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t want to hear any thing more about it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was with a sort of frenzy that Maxence abused that freedom; and in less
      than two weeks he had dissipated three months&rsquo; earnings of his mother and
      sister.
    </p>
    <p>
      That time over, he succeeded, thanks to M. Chapelain, in finding a place
      with an architect.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was not a very brilliant opening; and the chances were, that he might
      remain a clerk all his life.&nbsp; But the future did not trouble him
      much.&nbsp; For the present, he was delighted with this inferior position,
      which assured him each month one hundred and seventy-five francs.
    </p>
    <p>
      One hundred and seventy-five francs!&nbsp; A fortune.&nbsp; And so he
      rushed into that life of questionable pleasures, where so many wretches
      have left not only the money which they had, which is nothing, but the
      money which they had not, which leads straight to the police-court.
    </p>
    <p>
      He made friends with those shabby fellows who walk up and down in front of
      the Caf&eacute; Riche, with an empty stomach, and a tooth-pick between
      their teeth.&nbsp; He became a regular customer at those low Caf&eacute;s
      of the Boulevards, where plastered girls smile to the men.&nbsp; He
      frequented those suspicious table d&rsquo;hotes where they play baccarat after
      dinner on a wine-stained table-cloth, and where the police make periodical
      raids.&nbsp; He ate suppers in those night restaurants where people throw
      the bottles at each other&rsquo;s heads after drinking their contents.
    </p>
    <p>
      Often he remained twenty-four hours without coming to the Rue St. Gilles;
      and then Mme. Favoral spent the night in the most fearful anxiety.&nbsp;
      Then, suddenly, at some hour when he knew his father to be absent, he
      would appear, and, taking his mother to one side:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I very much want a few louis,&#8221; he would say in a sheepish
      tone.
    </p>
    <p>
      She gave them to him; and she kept giving them so long as she had any,
      not, however, without observing timidly to him that Gilberte and herself
      could not earn very much.
    </p>
    <p>
      Until finally one evening, and to a last demand:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas!&#8221; she answered sorrowfully, &#8220;I have nothing left,
      and it is only on Monday that we are to take our work back.&nbsp; Couldn&rsquo;t
      you wait until then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He could not wait:&nbsp; he was expected for a game.&nbsp; Blind devotion
      begets ferocious egotism.&nbsp; He wanted his mother to go out and borrow
      the money from the grocer or the butcher.&nbsp; She was hesitating.&nbsp;
      He spoke louder.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then Mlle. Gilberte appeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you, then, really no heart?&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;It
      seems to me, that, if I were a man, I would not ask my mother and sister
      to work for me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XII
    </h2>
    <p>
      Gilberte Favoral had just completed her eighteenth year.&nbsp; Rather
      tall, slender, her every motion betrayed the admirable proportions of her
      figure, and had that grace which results from the harmonious blending of
      litheness and strength.&nbsp; She did not strike at first sight; but soon
      a penetrating and indefinable charm arose from her whole person; and one
      knew not which to admire most,&#8212;the exquisite perfections of her
      figure, the divine roundness of her neck, her aerial carriage, or the
      placid ingenuousness of her attitudes.&nbsp; She could not be called
      beautiful, inasmuch as her features lacked regularity; but the extreme
      mobility of her countenance, upon which could be read all the emotions of
      her soul, had an irresistible seduction.&nbsp; Her large eyes, of velvety
      blue, had untold depths and an incredible intensity of expression; the
      imperceptible quiver of her rosy nostrils revealed an untamable pride; and
      the smile that played upon her lips told her immense contempt for every
      thing mean and small.&nbsp; But her real beauty was her hair,&#8212;of a
      blonde so luminous that it seemed powdered with diamond-dust; so thick and
      so long, that to be able to twist and confine it, she had to cut off heavy
      locks of it to the very root.
    </p>
    <p>
      Alone, in the house, she did not tremble at her father&rsquo;s voice.&nbsp; The
      studied despotism which had subdued Mme. Favoral had revolted her, and her
      energy had become tempered under the same system of oppression which had
      unnerved Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whilst her mother and her brother lied with that quiet impudence of the
      slave, whose sole weapon is duplicity, Gilberte preserved a sullen
      silence.&nbsp; And if complicity was imposed upon her by circumstances, if
      she had to maintain a falsehood, each word cost her such a painful effort,
      that her features became visibly altered.
    </p>
    <p>
      Never, when her own interests were alone at stake, had she stooped to an
      untruth.&nbsp; Fearlessly, and whatever might be the result,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is the fact,&#8221; she would say.
    </p>
    <p>
      Accordingly, M. Favoral could not help respecting her to a degree; and,
      when he was in fine humor, he called her the Empress Gilberte.&nbsp; For
      her alone he had some deference and some attentions.&nbsp; He moderated,
      when she looked at him, the brutality of his language.&nbsp; He brought
      her a few flowers every Saturday.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had even allowed her a professor of music; though he was wont to
      declare that a woman needs but two accomplishments,&#8212;to cook and to
      sew.&nbsp; But she had insisted so much, that he had at last discovered
      for her, in an attic of the Rue du Pas-de-la-Mule, an old Italian master,
      the Signor Gismondo Pulei, a sort of unknown genius, for whom thirty
      francs a month were a fortune, and who conceived a sort of religious
      fanaticism for his pupil.
    </p>
    <p>
      Though he had always refused to write a note, he consented, for her sake,
      to fix the melodies that buzzed in his cracked brain; and some of them
      proved to be admirable.&nbsp; He dreamed to compose for her an opera that
      would transmit to the most remote generations the name of Gismondo Pulei.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Signora Gilberte is the very goddess of music,&#8221; he said
      to M. Favoral, with transports of enthusiasm, which intensified still his
      frightful accent.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cashier of the Mutual Credit Society shrugged his shoulders, answering
      that there is no harmony for a man who spends his days listening to the
      exciting music of golden coins.&nbsp; In spite of which his vanity seemed
      highly gratified, when on Saturday evenings, after dinner, Mlle. Gilberte
      sat at the piano, and Mme. Desclavettes, suppressing a yawn, would
      exclaim,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What remarkable talent the dear child has!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl had, then, a positive influence; and it was to her
      entreaties alone, and not to those of his wife, that he had several times
      forgiven Maxence.&nbsp; He would have done much more for her, had she
      wished it; but she would have been compelled to ask, to insist, to beg.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And it&rsquo;s humiliating,&#8221; she used to say.
    </p>
    <p>
      Sometimes Mme. Favoral scolded her gently, saying that her father would
      certainly not refuse her one of those pretty toilets which are the
      ambition and the joy of young girls.
    </p>
    <p>
      But she:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is much less mortification to me to wear these rags than to meet
      with a refusal,&#8221; she replied.&nbsp; &#8220;I am satisfied with my
      dresses.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With such a character, surrounded, however, by a meek resignation, and an
      unalterable <i>sang-froid</i>, she inspired a certain respect to both her
      mother and her brother, who admired in her an energy of which they felt
      themselves incapable.
    </p>
    <p>
      And when she appeared, and commenced reproaching him in an indignant tone
      of voice, with the baseness of his conduct, and his insatiate demands,
      Maxence was almost stunned.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I did not know,&#8221; he commenced, turning as red as fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      She crushed him with a look of mingled contempt and pity; and, in an
      accent of haughty irony:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you do not know whence the money
      comes that you extort from our mother!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And holding up her hand, still remarkably handsome, though slightly
      deformed by the constant handling of the needle; the fourth finger of the
      right hand bent by the thread, and the fore-finger of the left tattooed
      and lacerated by the needle:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed,&#8221; she repeated, &#8220;you do not know that my mother
      and myself, we spend all our days, and the greater part of our nights,
      working?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Hanging his head, he said nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If it were for myself alone,&#8221; she continued, &#8220;I would
      not speak to you thus.&nbsp; But look at our mother!&nbsp; See her poor
      eyes, red and weak from her ceaseless labor!&nbsp; If I have said nothing
      until now, it is because I did not as yet despair of your heart; because I
      hoped that you would recover some feeling of decency.&nbsp; But no,
      nothing.&nbsp; With time, your last scruples seem to have vanished.&nbsp;
      Once you begged humbly; now you demand rudely.&nbsp; How soon will you
      resort to blows?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Gilberte!&#8221; stammered the poor fellow, &#8220;Gilberte!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She interrupted him:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Money!&#8221; she went on, &#8220;always, and without time, you
      must have money; no matter whence it comes, nor what it costs.&nbsp; If,
      at least, you had to justify your expenses, the excuse of some great
      passion, or of some object, were it absurd, ardently pursued!&nbsp; But I
      defy you to confess upon what degrading pleasures you lavish our humble
      economies.&nbsp; I defy you to tell us what you mean to do with the sum
      that you demand to-night,&#8212;that sum for which you would have our
      mother stoop to beg the assistance of a shop-keeper, to whom we would be
      compelled to reveal the secret of our shame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Touched by the frightful humiliation of her son:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is so unhappy!&#8221; stammered Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He unhappy!&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;What, then, shall we
      say of us? and, above all, what shall you say of yourself, mother?&nbsp;
      Unhappy!&#8212;he, a man, who has liberty and strength, who may undertake
      every thing, attempt any thing, dare any thing.&nbsp; Ah, I wish I were a
      man!&nbsp; I!&nbsp; I would be a man as there are some, as I know some;
      and I would have avenged you, O beloved mother! long, long ago, from
      father; and I would have begun to repay you all the good you have done me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral was sobbing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg of you,&#8221; she murmured, &#8220;spare him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be it so,&#8221; said the young girl.&nbsp; &#8220;But you must
      allow me to tell him that it is not for his sake that I devote my youth to
      a mercenary labor.&nbsp; It is for you, adored mother, that you may have
      the joy to give him what he asks, since it is your only joy.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence shuddered under the breath of that superb indignation.&nbsp; That
      frightful humiliation, he felt that he deserved it only too much.&nbsp; He
      understood the justice of these cruel reproaches.&nbsp; And, as his heart
      had not yet spoiled with the contact of his boon companions, as he was
      weak, rather than wicked, as the sentiments which are the honor and pride
      of a man were not dead within him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! you are a brave sister, Gilberte,&#8221; he exclaimed; &#8220;and
      what you have just done is well.&nbsp; You have been harsh, but not as
      much as I deserve.&nbsp; Thanks for your courage, which will give me back
      mine.&nbsp; Yes, it is a shame for me to have thus cowardly abused you
      both.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, raising his mother&rsquo;s hand to his lips:&nbsp; &#8220;Forgive, mother,&#8221;
      he continued, his eyes overflowing with tears; &#8220;forgive him who
      swears to you to redeem his past, and to become your support, instead of
      being a crushing burden&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was interrupted by the noise of steps on the stairs, and the shrill
      sound of a whistle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My husband!&#8221; exclaimed Mme. Favoral,&#8212;&#8220;your
      father, my children!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte coldly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t you hear that he is whistling? and do you forget that it is a
      proof that he is furious?&nbsp; What new trial threatens us again?&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XIII
    </h2>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral spoke from experience.&nbsp; She had learned, to her cost,
      that the whistle of her husband, more surely than the shriek of the stormy
      petrel, announces the storm.&#8212;And she had that evening more reasons
      than usual to fear.&nbsp; Breaking from all his habits, M. Favoral had not
      come home to dinner, and had sent one of the clerks of the Mutual Credit
      Society to say that they should not wait for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Soon his latch-key grated in the lock; the door swung open; he came in;
      and, seeing his son:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, I am glad to find you here,&#8221; he exclaimed with a
      giggle, which with him was the utmost expression of anger.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral shuddered.&nbsp; Still under the impression of the scene
      which had just taken place, his heart heavy, and his eyes full of tears,
      Maxence did not answer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is doubtless a wager,&#8221; resumed the father, &#8220;and you
      wish to know how far my patience may go.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not understand you,&#8221; stammered the young man.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The money that you used to get, I know not where, doubtless fails
      you now, or at least is no longer sufficient, and you go on making debts
      right and left&#8212;at the tailor&rsquo;s, the shirt maker&rsquo;s, the jeweler&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
      Of course, it&rsquo;s simple enough.&nbsp; We earn nothing; but we wish to dress
      in the latest style, to wear a gold chain across our vest, and then we
      make dupes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have never made any dupes, father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bah!&nbsp; And what, then, do you call all these people who came
      this very day to present me their bills?&nbsp; For they did dare to come
      to my office!&nbsp; They had agreed to come together, expecting thus to
      intimidate me more easily.&nbsp; I told them that you were of age, and
      that your business was none of mine.&nbsp; Hearing this, they became
      insolent, and commenced speaking so loud, that their voices could be heard
      in the adjoining rooms.&nbsp; At that very moment, the manager, M. de
      Thaller, happened to be passing through the hall.&nbsp; Hearing the noise
      of a discussion, he thought that I was having some difficulty with some of
      our stockholders, and he came in, as he had a right to.&nbsp; Then I was
      compelled to confess everything.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He became excited at the sound of his words, like a horse at the jingle of
      his bells.&nbsp; And, more and more beside himself:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is just what your creditors wished,&#8221; he pursued.&nbsp;
      &#8220;They thought I would be afraid of a row, and that I would &#8216;come
      down.&#8217;&nbsp; It is a system of blackmailing, like any other.&nbsp;
      An account is opened to some young rascal; and, when the amount is
      reasonably large, they take it to the family, saying, &#8216;Money, or I
      make row.&#8217;&nbsp; Do you think it is to you, who are penniless, that
      they give credit?&nbsp; It&rsquo;s on my pocket that they were drawing,&#8212;on
      my pocket, because they believed me rich.&nbsp; They sold you at
      exorbitant prices every thing they wished; and they relied on me to pay
      for trousers at ninety francs, shirts at forty francs, and watches at six
      hundred francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Contrary to his habit, Maxence did not offer any denial.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I expect to pay all I owe,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I give my word I will!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And with what, pray?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;With my salary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have a salary, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence blushed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have what I earn at my employer&rsquo;s.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What employer?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The architect in whose office M. Chapelain helped me to find a
      place.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a threatening gesture, M. Favoral interrupted him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Spare me your lies,&#8221; he uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;I am better
      posted than you suppose.&nbsp; I know, that, over a month ago, your
      employer, tired of your idleness, dismissed you in disgrace.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Disgrace was superfluous.&nbsp; The fact was, that Maxence, returning to
      work after an absence of five days, had found another in his place.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall find another place,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral shrugged his shoulders with a movement of rage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And in the mean time,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I shall have to pay.&nbsp;
      Do you know what your creditors threaten to do?&#8212;to commence a suit
      against me.&nbsp; They would lose it, of course, they know it; but they
      hope that I would yield before a scandal.&nbsp; And this is not all:&nbsp;
      they talk of entering a criminal complaint.&nbsp; They pretend that you
      have audaciously swindled them; that the articles you purchased of them
      were not at all for your own use, but that you sold them as fast as you
      got them, at any price you could obtain, to raise ready money.&nbsp; The
      jeweler has proofs, he says, that you went straight from his shop to the
      pawnbroker&rsquo;s, and pledged a watch and chain which he had just sold you.&nbsp;
      It is a police matter.&nbsp; They said all that in presence of my superior
      officer&#8212;in presence of M. de Thaller.&nbsp; I had to get the janitor
      to put them out.&nbsp; But, after they had left, M. de Thaller gave me to
      understand that he wished me very much to settle everything.&nbsp; And he
      is right.&nbsp; My consideration could not resist another such scene.&nbsp;
      What confidence can be placed in a cashier whose son behaves in this
      manner?&nbsp; How can a key of a safe containing millions be left with a
      man whose son would have been dragged into the police-courts?&nbsp; In a
      word, I am at your mercy.&nbsp; In a word, my honor, my position, my
      fortune, rest upon you.&nbsp; As often as it may please you to make debts,
      you can make them, and I shall be compelled to pay.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Gathering all his courage:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have been sometimes very harsh with me, father,&#8221;
      commenced Maxence; &#8220;and yet I will not try to justify my conduct.&nbsp;
      I swear to you, that hereafter you shall have nothing to fear from me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I fear nothing,&#8221; uttered M. Favoral with a sinister smile.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I know the means of placing myself beyond the reach of your follies
      &#8212;and I shall use them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I assure you, father, that I have taken a firm resolution.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh! you may dispense with your periodical repentance.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte stepped forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I&rsquo;ll stand warrant,&#8221; she said, &#8220;for Maxence&rsquo;s
      resolutions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her father did not permit her to proceed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough,&#8221; he interrupted somewhat harshly.&nbsp; &#8220;Mind
      your own business, Gilberte!&nbsp; I have to speak to you too.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To me, father?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He walked up and down three or four times through the parlor, as if to
      calm his irritation.&nbsp; Then planting himself straight before his
      daughter, his arms folded across his breast:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are eighteen years of age,&#8221; he said; &#8220;that is to
      say, it is time to think of your marriage.&nbsp; An excellent match offers
      itself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shuddered, stepped back, and, redder than a peony:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A match!&#8221; she repeated in a tone of immense surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, and which suits me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I do not wish to marry, father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All young girls say the same thing; and, as soon as a pretender
      offers himself, they are delighted.&nbsp; Mine is a fellow of twenty-six,
      quite good looking, amiable, witty, and who has had the greatest success
      in society.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Father, I assure you that I do not wish to leave mother.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course not.&nbsp; He is an intelligent, hard-working man,
      destined, everybody says, to make an immense fortune.&nbsp; Although he is
      rich already, for he holds a controlling interest in a stock-broker&rsquo;s
      firm, he works as hard as any poor devil.&nbsp; I would not be surprised
      to hear that he makes half a million of francs a year.&nbsp; His wife will
      have her carriage, her box at the opera, diamonds, and dresses as handsome
      as Mlle. de Thaller&rsquo;s.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Eh!&nbsp; What do I care for such things?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s understood.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll present him to you on Saturday.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mlle. Gilberte was not one of those young girls who allow themselves,
      through weakness or timidity, to become engaged, and so far engaged, that
      later, they can no longer withdraw.&nbsp; A discussion being unavoidable,
      she preferred to have it out at once.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A presentation is absolutely useless, father,&#8221; she declared
      resolutely.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have told you that I did not wish to marry.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But if it is my will?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am ready to obey you in every thing except that.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In that as in every thing else,&#8221; interrupted the cashier of
      the Mutual Credit in a thundering voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, casting upon his wife and children a glance full of defiance and
      threats:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In that, as in every thing else,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;because
      I am the master; and I shall prove it.&nbsp; Yes, I will prove it; for I
      am tired to see my family leagued against my authority.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And out he went, slamming the door so violently, that the partitions
      shook.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are wrong to resist your father thus,&#8221; murmured the weak
      Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      The fact is, that the poor woman could not understand why her daughter
      refused the only means at her command to break off with her miserable
      existence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let him present you this young man,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;You
      might like him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am sure I shall not like him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She said this in such a tone, that the light suddenly flashed upon Mme.
      Favoral&rsquo;s mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Heavens!&#8221; she murmured.&nbsp; &#8220;Gilberte, my darling
      child, have you then a secret which your mother does not know?&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XIV
    </h2>
    <p>
      Yes, Mlle. Gilberte had her secret&#8212;a very simple one, though,
      chaste, like herself, and one of those which, as the old women say, must
      cause the angels to rejoice.
    </p>
    <p>
      The spring of that year having been unusually mild, Mme. Favoral and her
      daughter had taken the habit of going daily to breathe the fresh air in
      the Place Royale.&nbsp; They took their work with them, crotchet or
      knitting; so that this salutary exercise did not in any way diminish the
      earnings of the week.&nbsp; It was during these walks that Mlle. Gilberte
      had at last noticed a young man, unknown to her, whom she met every day at
      the same place.
    </p>
    <p>
      Tall and robust, he had a grand look, notwithstanding his modest clothes,
      the exquisite neatness of which betrayed a sort of respectable poverty.&nbsp;
      He wore his full beard; and his proud and intelligent features were
      lighted up by a pair of large black eyes, of those eyes whose straight and
      clear look disconcerts hypocrites and knaves.
    </p>
    <p>
      He never failed, as he passed by Mlle. Gilberte, to look down, or turn his
      head slightly away; and in spite of this, in spite of the expression of
      respect which she had detected upon his face, she could not help blushing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Which is absurd,&#8221; she thought; &#8220;for after all, what on
      earth do I care for that young man?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The infallible instinct, which is the experience of inexperienced young
      girls, told her that it was not chance alone that brought this stranger in
      her way.&nbsp; But she wished to make sure of it.&nbsp; She managed so
      well, that each day of the following week, the hour of their walk was
      changed.&nbsp; Sometimes they went out at noon, sometimes after four
      o&rsquo;clock.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, whatever the hour, Mlle. Gilberte, as she turned the corner of the
      Rue des Minimes, noticed her unknown admirer under the arcades, looking in
      some shop-window, and watching out of the corner of his eye.&nbsp; As soon
      as she appeared, he left his post, and hurried fast enough to meet her at
      the gate of the Place.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a persecution,&#8221; thought Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      How, then, had she not spoken of it to her mother?&nbsp; Why had she not
      said any thing to her the day, when, happening, to look out of the window,
      she saw her &#8220;persecutor&#8221; passing before the house, or,
      evidently looking in her direction?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Am I losing my mind?&#8221; she thought, seriously irritated
      against herself.&nbsp; &#8220;I will not think of him any more.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet she was thinking of him, when one afternoon, as her mother and
      herself were working, sitting upon a bench, she saw the stranger come and
      sit down not far from them.&nbsp; He was accompanied by an elderly man
      with long white mustaches, and wearing the rosette of the Legion of Honor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This is an insolence,&#8221; thought the young girl, whilst seeking
      a pretext to ask her mother to change their seats.
    </p>
    <p>
      But already had the young man and his elderly friend seated themselves,
      and so arranged their chairs, that Mlle. Gilberte could not miss a word of
      what they were about to say.&nbsp; It was the young man who spoke first.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know me as well as I know myself, my dear count,&#8221; he
      commenced &#8212;&#8220;you who were my poor father&rsquo;s best friend, you who
      dandled me upon your knees when I was a child, and who has never lost
      sight of me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Which is to say, my boy, that I answer for you as for myself,&#8221;
      put in the old man.&nbsp; &#8220;But go on.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am twenty-six years old.&nbsp; My name is Yves-Marius-Genost de
      Tregars.&nbsp; My family, which is one of the oldest of Brittany, is
      allied to all the great families.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perfectly exact,&#8221; remarked the old gentleman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately, my fortune is not on a par with my nobility.&nbsp;
      When my mother died, in 1856, my father, who worshiped her, could no
      longer bear, in the intensity of his grief, to remain at the Chateau de
      Tregars where he had spent his whole life.&nbsp; He came to Paris, which
      he could well afford, since we were rich then, but unfortunately, made
      acquaintances who soon inoculated him with the fever of the age.&nbsp;
      They proved to him that he was mad to keep lands which barely yielded him
      forty thousand francs a year, and which he could easily sell for two
      millions; which amount, invested merely at five per cent, would yield him
      an income of one hundred thousand francs.&nbsp; He therefore sold every
      thing, except our patrimonial homestead on the road from Quimper to
      Audierne, and rushed into speculations.&nbsp; He was rather lucky at
      first.&nbsp; But he was too honest and too loyal to be lucky long.&nbsp;
      An operation in which he became interested early in 1869 turned out badly.&nbsp;
      His associates became rich; but he, I know not how, was ruined, and came
      near being compromised.&nbsp; He died of grief a month later.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old soldier was nodding his assent.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, my boy,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;But you are too
      modest; and there&rsquo;s a circumstance which you neglect.&nbsp; You had a
      right, when your father became involved in these troubles, to claim and
      retain your mother&rsquo;s fortune; that is, some thirty thousand francs a year.&nbsp;
      Not only you did not do so; but you gave up every thing to his creditors.&nbsp;
      You sold the domain of Tregars, except the old castle and its park, and
      paid over the proceeds to them; so that, if your father did die ruined, at
      least he did not owe a cent.&nbsp; And yet you knew, as well as myself,
      that your father had been deceived and swindled by a lot of scoundrels who
      drive their carriages now, and who, perhaps, if the courts were applied
      to, might still be made to disgorge their ill-gotten plunder.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her head bent upon her tapestry, Mlle. Gilberte seemed to be working with
      incomparable zeal.&nbsp; The truth is, she knew not how to conceal the
      blushes on her cheeks, and the trembling of her hands.&nbsp; She had
      something like a cloud before her eyes; and she drove her needle at
      random.&nbsp; She scarcely preserved enough presence of mind to reply to
      Mme. Favoral, who, not noticing any thing, spoke to her from time to time.
    </p>
    <p>
      Indeed, the meaning of this scene was too clear to escape her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They have had an understanding,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;and it
      is for me alone that they are speaking.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, Marius de Tregars was going on:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I should lie, my old friend, were I to say that I was indifferent
      to our ruin.&nbsp; Philosopher though one may be, it is not without some
      pangs that one passes from a sumptuous hotel to a gloomy garret.&nbsp; But
      what grieved me most of all was that I saw myself compelled to give up the
      labors which had been the joy of my life, and upon which I had founded the
      most magnificent hopes.&nbsp; A positive vocation, stimulated further by
      the accidents of my education, had led me to the study of physical
      sciences.&nbsp; For several years, I had applied all I have of
      intelligence and energy to certain investigations in electricity.&nbsp; To
      convert electricity into an incomparable motive-power which would
      supersede steam,&#8212;such was the object I pursued without pause.&nbsp;
      Already, as you know, although quite young, I had obtained results which
      had attracted some attention in the scientific world.&nbsp; I thought I
      could see the last of a problem, the solution of which would change the
      face of the globe.&nbsp; Ruin was the death of my hopes, the total loss of
      the fruits of my labors; for my experiments were costly, and it required
      money, much money, to purchase the products which were indispensable to
      me, and to construct the machines which I contrived.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I was about being compelled to earn my daily bread.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was on the verge of despair, when I met a man whom I had formerly
      seen at my father&rsquo;s, and who had seemed to take some interest in my
      researches, a speculator named Marcolet.&nbsp; But it is not at the bourse
      that he operates.&nbsp; Industry is the field of his labors.&nbsp; Ever on
      the lookout for those obstinate inventors who are starving to death in
      their garrets, he appears to them at the hour of supreme crisis:&nbsp; he
      pities them, encourages them, consoles them, helps them, and almost always
      succeeds in becoming the owner of their discovery.&nbsp; Sometimes he
      makes a mistake; and then all he has to do is to put a few thousand francs
      to the debit of profit or loss.&nbsp; But, if he has judged right, then he
      counts his profits by hundreds of thousands; and how many patents does he
      work thus!&nbsp; Of how many inventions does he reap the results which are
      a fortune, and the inventors of which have no shoes to wear!&nbsp; Every
      thing is good to him; and he defends with the same avidity a cough-sirup,
      the formula of which he has purchased of some poor devil of a druggist,
      and an improvement to the steam-engine, the patent for which has been sold
      to him by an engineer of genius.&nbsp; And yet Marcolet is not a bad man.&nbsp;
      Seeing my situation, he offered me a certain yearly sum to undertake some
      studies of industrial chemistry which he indicated to me.&nbsp; I
      accepted; and the very next day I hired a small basement in the Rue des
      Tournelles, where I set up my laboratory, and went to work at once.&nbsp;
      That was a year ago.&nbsp; Marcolet must be satisfied.&nbsp; I have
      already found for him a new shade for dyeing silk, the cost price of which
      is almost nothing.&nbsp; As to me, I have lived with the strictest
      economy, devoting all my surplus earnings to the prosecution of the
      problem, the solution of which would give me both glory and fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Palpitating with inexpressible emotion, Mlle. Gilberte was listening to
      this young man, unknown to her a few moments since, and whose whole
      history she now knew as well as if she had always lived near him; for it
      never occurred to her to suspect his sincerity.
    </p>
    <p>
      No voice had ever vibrated to her ear like this voice, whose grave
      sonorousness stirred within her strange sensations, and legions of
      thoughts which she had never suspected.&nbsp; She was surprised at the
      accent of simplicity with which he spoke of the illustriousness of his
      family, of his past opulence, of his obscure labors, and of his exalted
      hopes.
    </p>
    <p>
      She admired the superb disregard for money which beamed forth in his every
      word.&nbsp; Here was then one man, at least, who despised that money
      before which she had hitherto seen all the people she knew prostrated in
      abject worship.
    </p>
    <p>
      After a pause of a few moments, Marius de Tregars, still addressing
      himself apparently to his aged companion, went on:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I repeat it, because it is the truth, my old friend, this life of
      labor and privation, so new to me, was not a burden.&nbsp; Calm, silence,
      the constant exercise of all the faculties of the intellect, have charms
      which the vulgar can never suspect.&nbsp; I was happy to think, that, if I
      was ruined, it was through an act of my own will.&nbsp; I found a positive
      pleasure in the fact that I, the Marquis de Tregars, who had had a hundred
      thousand a year&#8212;I must the next moment go out in person to the
      baker&rsquo;s and the green-grocer&rsquo;s to purchase my supplies for the day.&nbsp;
      I was proud to think that it was to my labor alone, to the work for which
      I was paid by Marcolet, that I owed the means of prosecuting my task.&nbsp;
      And, from the summits where I was carried on the wings of science, I took
      pity on your modern existence, on that ridiculous and tragical medley of
      passions, interests, and cravings; that struggle without truce or mercy,
      whose law is, woe to the weak, in which whosoever falls is trampled under
      feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sometimes, however, like a fire that has been smouldering under the
      ashes, the flame of youthful passions blazed up within me.&nbsp; I had
      hours of madness, of discouragement, of distress, during which solitude
      was loathsome to me.&nbsp; But I had the faith which raises mountains&#8212;faith
      in myself and my work.&nbsp; And soon, tranquilized, I would go to sleep
      in the purple of hope, beholding in the vista of the distant future the
      triumphal arches erected to my success.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Such was my situation, when, one afternoon in the month of February
      last, after an experiment upon which I had founded great hopes, and which
      had just miserably failed, I came here to breathe a little fresh air.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was a beautiful spring day, warm and sunny.&nbsp; The sparrows
      were chirping on the branches, swelled with sap:&nbsp; bands of children
      were running along the alleys, filling the air with their joyous screams.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was sitting upon a bench, ruminating over the causes of my
      failure, when two ladies passed by me; one somewhat aged, the other quite
      young.&nbsp; They were walking so rapidly, that I hardly had time to see
      them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But the young lady&rsquo;s step, the noble simplicity of her carriage,
      had struck me so much, that I rose to follow her with the intention of
      passing her, and then walking back to have a good view of her face.&nbsp;
      I did so; and I was fairly dazzled.&nbsp; At the moment when my eyes met
      hers, a voice rose within me, crying that it was all over now, and that my
      destiny was fixed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I remember, my dear boy,&#8221; remarked the old soldier in a tone
      of friendly raillery; &#8220;for you came to see me that night, and I had
      not seen you for months before.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius proceeded without heeding the remark.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet you know that I am not the man to yield to first
      impression.&nbsp; I struggled:&nbsp; with determined energy I strove to
      drive off that radiant image which I carried within my soul, which left me
      no more, which haunted me in the midst of my studies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Vain efforts.&nbsp; My thoughts obeyed me no longer&#8212;my will
      escaped my control.&nbsp; It was indeed one of those passions that fill
      the whole being, overpower all, and which make of life an ineffable
      felicity or a nameless torture, according that they are reciprocated, or
      not.&nbsp; How many days I spent there, waiting and watching for her of
      whom I had thus had a glimpse, and who ignored my very existence!&nbsp;
      And what insane palpitations, when, after hours of consuming anxiety, I
      saw at the corner of the street the undulating folds of her dress!&nbsp; I
      saw her thus often, and always with the same elderly person, her mother.&nbsp;
      They had adopted in this square a particular bench, where they sat daily,
      working at their sewing with an assiduity and zeal which made me think
      that they lived upon the product of their labor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Here he was suddenly interrupted by his companion.&nbsp; The old gentleman
      feared that Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s attention might at last be attracted by too
      direct allusions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Take care, boy!&#8221; he whispered, not so low, however, but what
      Gilberte overheard him.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it would have required much more than this to draw Mme. Favoral from
      her sad thoughts.&nbsp; She had just finished her band of tapestry; and,
      grieving to lose a moment:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is perhaps time to go home,&#8221; she said to her daughter.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I have nothing more to do.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte drew from her basket a piece of canvas, and, handing it to
      her mother:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here is enough to go on with, mamma,&#8221; she said in a troubled
      voice.&nbsp; &#8220;Let us stay a little while longer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, Mme. Favoral having resumed her work, Marius proceeded:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The thought that she whom I loved was poor delighted me.&nbsp; Was
      not this similarity of positions a link between us?&nbsp; I felt a
      childish joy to think that I would work for her and for her mother, and
      that they would be indebted to me for their ease and comfort in life.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I am not one of those dreamers who confide their destiny to the
      wings of a chimera.&nbsp; Before undertaking any thing, I resolved to
      inform myself.&nbsp; Alas! at the first words that I heard, all my fine
      dreams took wings.&nbsp; I heard that she was rich, very rich.&nbsp; I was
      told that her father was one of those men whose rigid probity surrounds
      itself with austere and harsh forms.&nbsp; He owed his fortune, I was
      assured, to his sole labor, but also to prodigies of economy and the most
      severe privations.&nbsp; He professed a worship, they said, for that gold
      that had cost him so much; and he would never give the hand of his
      daughter to a man who had no money.&nbsp; This last comment was useless.&nbsp;
      Above my actions, my thoughts, my hopes, higher than all, soars my pride.&nbsp;
      Instantly I saw an abyss opening between me and her whom I love more than
      my life, but less than my dignity.&nbsp; When a man&rsquo;s name is Genost de
      Tregars, he must support his wife, were it by breaking stones.&nbsp; And
      the thought that I owed my fortune to the woman I married would make me
      execrate her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must remember, my old friend, that I told you all this at the
      time.&nbsp; You thought, too, that it was singularly impertinent, on my
      part, thus to flare up in advance, because, certainly a millionaire does
      not give his daughter to a ruined nobleman in the pay of Marcolet, the
      patent-broker, to a poor devil of an inventor, who is building the castles
      of his future upon the solution of a problem which has been given up by
      the most brilliant minds.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was then that I determined upon an extreme resolution, a foolish
      one, no doubt, and yet to which you, the Count de Villegre, my father&rsquo;s
      old friend, you have consented to lend yourself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I thought that I would address myself to her, to her alone, and
      that she would at least know what great, what immense love she had
      inspired.&nbsp; I thought I would go to her and tell her, &#8216;This is
      who I am, and what I am.&nbsp; For mercy&rsquo;s sake, grant me a respite of
      three years.&nbsp; To a love such as mine there is nothing impossible.&nbsp;
      In three years I shall be dead, or rich enough to ask your hand.&nbsp;
      From this day forth, I give up my task for work of more immediate profit.&nbsp;
      The arts of industry have treasures for successful inventors.&nbsp; If you
      could only read in my soul, you would not refuse me the delay I am asking.&nbsp;
      Forgive me!&nbsp; One word, for mercy&rsquo;s sake, only one!&nbsp; It is my
      sentence that I am awaiting.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s thoughts were in too great a state of confusion to permit
      her to think of being offended at this extraordinary proceeding.&nbsp; She
      rose, quivering, and addressing herself to Mme. Favoral:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, mother,&#8221; she said, &#8220;come:&nbsp; I feel that I
      have taken cold.&nbsp; I must go home and think.&nbsp; To-morrow, yes,
      to-morrow, we will come again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Deep as Mme. Favoral was plunged in her meditations, and a thousand miles
      as she was from the actual situation, it was impossible that she should
      not notice the intense excitement under which her daughter labored, the
      alteration of her features, and the incoherence of her words.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; she asked, somewhat alarmed.&nbsp;
      &#8220;What are you saying?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I feel unwell,&#8221; answered her daughter in a scarcely audible
      voice, &#8220;quite unwell.&nbsp; Come, let us go home.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as they reached home, Mlle. Gilberte took refuge in her own room.&nbsp;
      She was in haste to be alone, to recover her self-possession, to collect
      her thoughts, more scattered than dry leaves by a storm wind.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a momentous event which had just suddenly fallen in her life so
      monotonous and so calm&#8212;an inconceivable, startling event, the
      consequences of which were to weigh heavily upon her entire future.
    </p>
    <p>
      Staggering still, she was asking herself if she was not the victim of an
      hallucination, and if really there was a man who had dared to conceive and
      execute the audacious project of coming thus under the eyes of her mother,
      of declaring his love, and of asking her in return a solemn engagement.&nbsp;
      But what stupefied her more still, what confused her, was that she had
      actually endured such an attempt.
    </p>
    <p>
      Under what despotic influence had she, then, fallen?&nbsp; To what
      undefinable sentiments had she obeyed?&nbsp; And if she had only
      tolerated!&nbsp; But she had done more:&nbsp; she had actually encouraged.&nbsp;
      By detaining her mother when she wished to go home (and she had detained
      her), had she not said to this unknown?&#8212;&#8220;Go on, I allow it:&nbsp;
      I am listening.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he had gone on.&nbsp; And she, at the moment of returning home, she
      had engaged herself formally to reflect, and to return the next day at a
      stated hour to give an answer.&nbsp; In a word, she had made an
      appointment with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was enough to make her die of shame.&nbsp; And, as if she had needed
      the sound of her own words to convince herself of the reality of the fact,
      she kept repeating loud,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have made an appointment&#8212;I, Gilberte, with a man whom my
      parents do not know, and of whose name I was still ignorant yesterday.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet she could not take upon herself to be indignant at the imprudent
      boldness of her conduct.&nbsp; The bitterness of the reproaches which she
      was addressing to herself was not sincere.&nbsp; She felt it so well, that
      at last:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Such hypocrisy is unworthy of me,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;since
      now, still, and without the excuse of being taken by surprise, I would not
      act otherwise.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The fact is, the more she pondered, the less she could succeed in
      discovering even the shadow of any offensive intention in all that Marius
      de Tregars had said.&nbsp; By the choice of his confidant, an old man, a
      friend of his family, a man of the highest respectability, he had done all
      in his power to make his step excusable.&nbsp; It was impossible to doubt
      his sincerity, to suspect the fairness of his intentions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte, better than almost any other young girl, could understand
      the extreme measure resorted to by M. de Tregars.&nbsp; By her own pride
      she could understand his.&nbsp; No more than he, in his place, would she
      have been willing to expose herself to a certain refusal.&nbsp; What was
      there, then, so extraordinary in the fact of his coming directly to her,
      in his exposing to her frankly and loyally his situation, his projects,
      and his hopes?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Good heavens!&#8221; she thought, horrified at the sentiments which
      she discovered in the deep recesses of her soul, &#8220;good heavens!&nbsp;
      I hardly know myself any more.&nbsp; Here I am actually approving what he
      has done!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, yes, she did approve him, attracted, fascinated, by the very
      strangeness of the situation.&nbsp; Nothing seemed to her more admirable
      than the conduct of Marius de Tregars sacrificing his fortune and his most
      legitimate aspirations to the honor of his name, and condemning himself to
      work for his living.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That one,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;is a man; and his wife will
      have just cause to be proud of him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Involuntarily she compared him to the only men she knew:&nbsp; to M.
      Favoral, whose miserly parsimony had made his whole family wretched; to
      Maxence, who did not blush to feed his disorders with the fruits of his
      mother&rsquo;s and his sister&rsquo;s labor.
    </p>
    <p>
      How different was Marius!&nbsp; If he was poor, it was of his own will.&nbsp;
      Had she not seen what confidence he had in himself.&nbsp; She shared it
      fully.&nbsp; She felt certain that, within the required delay, he would
      conquer that indispensable fortune.&nbsp; Then he might present himself
      boldly.&nbsp; He would take her, away from the miserable surroundings
      among which she seemed fated to live:&nbsp; she would become the
      Marchioness de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, then, not answer, Yes!&#8221; thought she, with the harrowing
      emotions of the gambler who is about to stake his all upon one card.&nbsp;
      And what a game for Mlle. Gilberte, and what a stake!
    </p>
    <p>
      Suppose she had been mistaken.&nbsp; Suppose that Marius should be one of
      those villains who make of seduction a science.&nbsp; Would she still be
      her own mistress, after answering?&nbsp; Did she know to what hazards such
      an engagement would expose her?&nbsp; Was she not about rushing
      blindfolded towards those deceiving perils where a young girl leaves her
      reputation, even when she saves her honor?
    </p>
    <p>
      She thought, for a moment, of consulting her mother.&nbsp; But she knew
      Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s shrinking timidity, and that she was as incapable of giving
      any advice as to make her will prevail.&nbsp; She would be frightened; she
      would approve all; and, at the first alarm, she would confess all.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Am I, then, so weak and so foolish,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;that
      I cannot take a determination which affects me personally?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She could not close her eyes all night; but in the morning her resolution
      was settled.
    </p>
    <p>
      And toward one o&rsquo;clock:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are we not going out mother?&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral was hesitating.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;These early spring days are treacherous,&#8221; she objected:&nbsp;
      &#8220;you caught cold yesterday.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My dress was too thin.&nbsp; To-day I have taken my precautions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They started, taking their work with them, and came to occupy their
      accustomed seats.
    </p>
    <p>
      Before they had even passed the gates, Mlle. Gilberte had recognized
      Marius de Tregars and the Count de Villegre, walking in one of the side
      alleys.&nbsp; Soon, as on the day before, they took two chairs, and
      settled themselves within hearing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Never had the young girl&rsquo;s heart beat with such violence.&nbsp; It is easy
      enough to take a resolution; but it is not always quite so easy to execute
      it, and she was asking herself if she would have strength enough to
      articulate a word.&nbsp; At last, gathering her whole courage:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You don&rsquo;t believe in dreams, do you mother?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon this subject, as well as upon many others, Mme. Favoral had no
      particular opinion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why do you ask the question?&#8221; said she.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because I have had such a strange one.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It seemed to me that suddenly a young man, whom I did not know,
      stood before me.&nbsp; He would have been most happy, said he to me, to
      ask my hand, but he dared not, being very poor.&nbsp; And he begged me to
      wait three years, during which he would make his fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral smiled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why it&rsquo;s quite a romance,&#8221; said she.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But it wasn&rsquo;t a romance in my dream,&#8221; interrupted Mlle.
      Gilberte.&nbsp; &#8220;This young man spoke in a tone of such profound
      conviction, that it was impossible for me, as it were, to doubt him.&nbsp;
      I thought to myself that he would be incapable of such an odious villainy
      as to abuse the confiding credulity of a poor girl.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what did you answer him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Moving her seat almost imperceptibly, Mlle. Gilberte could, from the
      corner of her eye, have a glimpse of M. de Tregars.&nbsp; Evidently he was
      not missing a single one of the words which she was addressing to her
      mother.&nbsp; He was whiter than a sheet; and his face betrayed the most
      intense anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      This gave her the energy to curb the last revolts of her conscience.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To answer was painful,&#8221; she uttered; &#8220;and yet I&#8212;dared
      to answer him.&nbsp; I said to him, &#8216;I believe you, and I have faith
      in you.&nbsp; Loyally and faithfully I shall await your success; but until
      then we must be strangers to one another.&nbsp; To resort to ruse, deceit,
      and falsehood would be unworthy of us.&nbsp; You surely would not expose
      to a suspicion her who is to be your wife.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well,&#8221; approved Mme. Favoral; &#8220;only I did not know
      you were so romantic.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was laughing, the good lady, but not loud enough to prevent Gilberte
      from hearing M. de Tregars&rsquo; answer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Count de Villegre,&#8221; said he, &#8220;my old friend, receive
      the oath which I take to devote my life to her who has not doubted me.&nbsp;
      It is to-day the 4th of May, 1870&#8212;on the 4th of May, 1873, I shall
      have succeeded:&nbsp; I feel it, I will it, it must be!&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XV
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was done:&nbsp; Gilberte Favoral had just irrevocably disposed of
      herself.&nbsp; Prosperous or wretched, her destiny henceforth was linked
      with another.&nbsp; She had set the wheel in motion; and she could no
      longer hope to control its direction, any more than the will can pretend
      to alter the course of the ivory ball upon the surface of the
      roulette-table.&nbsp; At the outset of this great storm of passion which
      had suddenly surrounded her, she felt an immense surprise, mingled with
      unexplained apprehensions and vague terrors.
    </p>
    <p>
      Around her, apparently, nothing was changed.&nbsp; Father, mother,
      brother, friends, gravitated mechanically in their accustomed orbits.&nbsp;
      The same daily facts repeated themselves monotonous and regular as the
      tick-tack of the clock.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet an event had occurred more prodigious for her than the moving of a
      mountain.
    </p>
    <p>
      Often during the weeks that followed, she would repeat to herself, &#8220;Is
      it true, is it possible even?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Or else she would run to a mirror to make sure once more that nothing upon
      her face or in her eyes betrayed the secret that palpitated within her.
    </p>
    <p>
      The singularity of the situation was, moreover, well calculated to trouble
      and confound her mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mastered by circumstances, she had in utter disregard of all accepted
      ideas, and of the commonest propriety, listened to the passionate promises
      of a stranger, and pledged her life to him.&nbsp; And, the pact concluded
      and solemnly sworn, they had parted without knowing when propitious
      circumstances might bring them together again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Certainly,&#8221; thought she, &#8220;before God, M. de Tregars is
      my betrothed husband; and yet we have never exchanged a word.&nbsp; Were
      we to meet in society, we should be compelled to meet as strangers:&nbsp;
      if he passes by me in the street, he has no right to bow to me.&nbsp; I
      know not where he is, what becomes of him, nor what he is doing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And in fact she had not seen him again:&nbsp; he had given no sign of
      life, so faithfully did he conform to her expressed wish.&nbsp; And
      perhaps secretly, and without acknowledging it to herself, had she wished
      him less scrupulous.&nbsp; Perhaps she would not have been very angry to
      see him sometimes gliding along at her passage under the old Arcades of
      the Rue des Vosges.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, whilst suffering from this separation, she conceived for the
      character of Marius the highest esteem; for she felt sure that he must
      suffer as much and more than she from the restraint which he imposed upon
      himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus he was ever present to her thoughts.&nbsp; She never tired of turning
      over in her mind all he had said of his past life:&nbsp; she tried to
      remember his words, and the very tone of his voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      And by living constantly thus with the memory of Marius de Tregars, she
      made herself familiar with him, deceived to that extent, by the illusion
      of absence, that she actually persuaded herself that she knew him better
      and better every day.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already nearly a month had elapsed, when one afternoon, as she arrived on
      the Place Royal; she recognized him, standing near that same bench where
      they had so strangely exchanged their pledges.
    </p>
    <p>
      He saw her coming too:&nbsp; she knew it by his looks.&nbsp; But, when she
      had arrived within a few steps of him, he walked off rapidly, leaving on
      the bench a folded newspaper.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral wished to call him back and return it; but Mlle. Gilberte
      persuaded her not to.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never mind, mother,&#8221; said she, &#8220;it isn&rsquo;t worth while;
      and, besides, the gentleman is too far now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But while getting out her embroidery, with that dexterity which never
      fails even the most naive girls, she slipped the newspaper in her
      work-basket.
    </p>
    <p>
      Was she not certain that it had been left there for her?
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as she had returned home, she locked herself up in her own room,
      and, after searching for some time through the columns, she read at last:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;One of the richest and most intelligent manufacturers in Paris, M.
      Marcolet, has just purchased in Grenelle the vast grounds belonging to the
      Lacoche estate.&nbsp; He proposes to build upon them a manufacture of
      chemical products, the management of which is to be placed in the hands of
      M. de T&#8212;.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Although still quite young, M. de T&#8212;&#8212; is already well
      known in connection with his remarkable studies on electricity.&nbsp; He
      was, perhaps, on the eve of solving the much controverted problem of
      electricity as a motive-power, when his father&rsquo;s ruin compelled him to
      suspend his labors.&nbsp; He now seeks to earn by his personal industry
      the means of prosecuting his costly experiments.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is not the first to tread this path.&nbsp; Is it not to the
      invention of the machine bearing his name, that the engineer Giffard owes
      the fortune which enables him to continue to seek the means of steering
      balloons?&nbsp; Why should not M. de T&#8212;, who has as much skill and
      energy, have as much luck?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! he does not forget me,&#8221; thought Mlle. Gilberte, moved to
      tears by this article, which, after all, was but a mere puff, written by
      Marcolet himself, without the knowledge of M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was still under that impression, thinking that Marius was already at
      work, when her father announced to her that he had discovered a husband,
      and enjoined her to find him to her liking, as he, the master, thought it
      proper that she should.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hence the energy of her refusal.
    </p>
    <p>
      But hence also, the imprudent vivacity which had enlightened Mme. Favoral,
      and which made her say:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You hide something from me, Gilberte?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Never had the young girl been so cruelly embarrassed as she was at this
      moment by this sudden and unforeseen perspicacity.
    </p>
    <p>
      Would she confide to her mother?
    </p>
    <p>
      She felt, indeed, no repugnance to do so, certain as she was, in advance,
      of the inexhaustible indulgence of the poor woman; and, besides, she would
      have been delighted to have some one at last with whom she could speak of
      Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      But she knew that her father was not the man to give up a project
      conceived by himself.&nbsp; She knew that he would return to the charge
      obstinately, without peace, and without truce.&nbsp; Now, as she was
      determined to resist with a no less implacable obstinacy, she foresaw
      terrible struggles, all sorts of violence and persecutions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Informed of the truth, would Mme. Favoral have strength enough to resist
      these daily storms?&nbsp; Would not a time come, when, called upon by her
      husband to explain the refusals of her daughter, threatened, terrified,
      she would confess all?
    </p>
    <p>
      At one glance Mlle. Gilberte estimated the danger; and, drawing from
      necessity an audacity which was very foreign to her nature:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are mistaken, dear mother,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I have
      concealed nothing from you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Not quite convinced, Mme. Favoral shook her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; said she, &#8220;you will yield.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then there must be some reason you do not tell me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;None, except that I do not wish to leave you.&nbsp; Have you ever
      thought what would be your existence if I were no longer here?&nbsp; Have
      you ever asked yourself what would become of you, between my father, whose
      despotism will grow heavier with age, and my brother?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Always prompt to defend her son:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Maxence is not bad,&#8221; she interrupted:&nbsp; &#8220;he will
      know how to compensate me for the sorrows he has inflicted upon me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl made a gesture of doubt:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I wish it, dear mother,&#8221; said she, &#8220;with all my heart;
      but I dare not hope for it.&nbsp; His repentance to-night was great and
      sincere; but will he remember it to-morrow?&nbsp; Besides, don&rsquo;t you know
      that father has fully resolved to separate himself from Maxence?&nbsp;
      Think of yourself alone here with father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral shuddered at the mere idea.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I would not suffer very long,&#8221; she murmured.&nbsp; Mlle.
      Gilberte kissed her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is because I wish you to live to be happy that I refuse to
      marry,&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;Must you not have your share of
      happiness in this world?&nbsp; Let me manage.&nbsp; Who knows what
      compensations the future may have in store for you?&nbsp; Besides, this
      person whom father has selected for me does not suit me.&nbsp; A
      stock-jobber, who would think of nothing but money,&#8212;who would
      examine my house-accounts as papa does yours, or else who would load me
      with cashmeres and diamonds, like Mme. de Thaller, to make of me a sign
      for his shop?&nbsp; No, no!&nbsp; I want no such man.&nbsp; So, mother
      dear, be brave, take sides boldly with your daughter, and we shall soon be
      rid of this would-be husband.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your father will bring him to you:&nbsp; he said he would.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, he is a man of courage, if he returns three times.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At this moment the parlor-door opened suddenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What are you plotting here again?&#8221; cried the irritated voice
      of the master.&nbsp; &#8220;And you, Mme. Favoral, why don&rsquo;t you go to
      bed?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor slave obeyed, without saying a word.&nbsp; And, whilst making her
      way to her room:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is trouble ahead,&#8221; thought Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp;
      &#8220;But bash!&nbsp; If I do have to suffer some, it won&rsquo;t be great
      harm, after all.&nbsp; Surely Marius does not complain, though he gives up
      for me his dearest hopes, becomes the salaried employe of M. Marcolet, and
      thinks of nothing but making money,&#8212;he so proud and so
      disinterested!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s anticipations were but too soon realized.&nbsp; When M.
      Favoral made his appearance the next morning, he had the sombre brow and
      contracted lips of a man who has spent the night ruminating a plan from
      which he does not mean to swerve.
    </p>
    <p>
      Instead of going to his office, as usual, without saying a word to any
      one, he called his wife and children to the parlor; and, after having
      carefully bolted all the doors, he turned to Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I want you,&#8221; he commenced, &#8220;to give me a list of your
      creditors.&nbsp; See that you forget none; and let it be ready as soon as
      possible.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence was no longer the same man.&nbsp; After the terrible and
      well-deserved reproaches of his sister, a salutary revolution had taken
      place in him.&nbsp; During the preceding night, he had reflected over his
      conduct for the past four years; and he had been dismayed and terrified.&nbsp;
      His impression was like that of the drunkard, who, having become sober,
      remembers the ridiculous or degrading acts which he has committed under
      the influence of alcohol, and, confused and humiliated, swears never more
      to drink.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus Maxence had sworn to himself to change his mode of life, promising
      that it would be no drunkard&rsquo;s oath, either.&nbsp; And his attitude and
      his looks showed the pride of great resolutions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Instead of lowering his eyes before the irritated glance of M. Favoral,
      and stammering excuses and vague promises:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is useless, father,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;to give you the
      list you ask for.&nbsp; I am old enough to bear the responsibility of my
      acts.&nbsp; I shall repair my follies:&nbsp; what I owe, I shall pay.&nbsp;
      This very day I shall see my creditors, and make arrangements with them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, Maxence,&#8221; exclaimed Mme. Favoral, delighted.
    </p>
    <p>
      But there was no pacifying the cashier of the Mutual Credit.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Those are fine-sounding words,&#8221; he said with a sneer; &#8220;but
      I doubt if the tailors and the shirt-makers will take them in payment.&nbsp;
      That&rsquo;s why I want that list.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Still&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s I who shall pay.&nbsp; I do not mean to have another such
      scene as that of yesterday in my office.&nbsp; It must not be said that my
      son is a sharper and a cheat at the very moment when I find for my
      daughter a most unhoped-for match.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, turning to Mlle. Gilberte:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For I suppose you have got over your foolish ideas,&#8221; he
      uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl shook her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My ideas are the same as they were last night.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, ah!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And so, father, I beg of you, do not insist.&nbsp; Why wrangle and
      quarrel?&nbsp; You must know me well enough to know, that, whatever may
      happen, I shall never yield.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Indeed, M. Favoral was well aware of his daughter&rsquo;s firmness; for he had
      already been compelled on several occasions, as he expressed it himself,
      &#8220;to strike his flag&#8221; before her.&nbsp; But he could not
      believe that she would resist when he took certain means of enforcing his
      will.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have pledged my word,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I have not pledged mine, father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was becoming excited:&nbsp; his cheeks were flushed; and his little
      eyes sparkled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose I were to tell you,&#8221; he resumed, doing at least
      to his daughter the honor of controlling his anger:&nbsp; &#8220;suppose I
      were to tell you that I would derive from this marriage immense, positive,
      and immediate advantages?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221; she interrupted with a look of disgust, &#8220;oh, for
      mercy&rsquo;s sake!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Suppose I were to tell you that I have a powerful interest in it;
      that it is indispensable to the success of vast combinations?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte looked straight at him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I would answer you,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;that it does not
      suit me to be made use of as an earnest to your combinations.&nbsp; Ah!
      it&rsquo;s an operation, is it? an enterprise, a big speculation? and you throw
      in your daughter in the bargain as a bonus.&nbsp; Well, no!&nbsp; You can
      tell your partner that the thing has fallen through.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral&rsquo;s anger was growing with each word.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I&rsquo;ll see if I can&rsquo;t make you yield,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You may crush me, perhaps.&nbsp; Make me yield, never!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, we shall see.&nbsp; You will see&#8212;Maxence and you&#8212;whether
      there are no means by which a father can compel his rebellious children to
      submit to his authority.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, feeling that he was no longer master of himself, he left, swearing
      loud enough to shake the plaster from the stair-walls.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence shook with indignation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;never until now, had I understood
      the infamy of my conduct.&nbsp; With a father such as ours, Gilberte, I
      should be your protector.&nbsp; And now I am debarred even of the right to
      interfere.&nbsp; But never mind, I have the will; and all will soon be
      repaired.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Left alone, a few moments after, Mlle. Gilberte was congratulating herself
      upon her firmness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am sure,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;Marius would approve, if he
      knew.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She had not long to wait for her reward.&nbsp; The bell rang:&nbsp; it was
      her old professor, the Signor Gismondo Pulei, who came to give her his
      daily lesson.
    </p>
    <p>
      The liveliest joy beamed upon his face, more shriveled than an apple at
      Easter; and the most magnificent anticipations sparkled in his eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I knew it, signora!&#8221; he exclaimed from the threshold:&nbsp;
      &#8220;I knew that angels bring good luck.&nbsp; As every thing succeeds
      to you, so must every thing succeed to those who come near you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She could not help smiling at the appropriateness of the compliment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Something fortunate has happened to you, dear master?&#8221; she
      asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is to say, I am on the high-road to fortune and glory,&#8221;
      he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;My fame is extending; pupils dispute the
      privilege of my lesson.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte knew too well the thoroughly Italian exaggeration of the
      worthy maestro to be surprised.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This morning,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;visited by inspiration, I
      had risen early, and I was working with marvelous facility, when there was
      a knock at my door.&nbsp; I do not remember such an occurrence since the
      blessed day when your worthy father called for me.&nbsp; Surprised, I
      nevertheless said, &#8216;Come in;&#8217; when there appeared a tall and
      robust young man, proud and intelligent-looking.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl started.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Marius!&#8221; cried a voice within her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This young man,&#8221; continued the old Italian, &#8220;had heard
      me spoken of, and came to apply for lessons.&nbsp; I questioned him; and
      from the first words I discovered that his education had been frightfully
      neglected, that he was ignorant of the most vulgar notions of the divine
      art, and that he scarcely knew the difference between a sharp and a
      quaver.&nbsp; It was really the A, B, C, which he wished me to teach him.&nbsp;
      Laborious task, ungrateful labor!&nbsp; But he manifested so much shame at
      his ignorance, and so much desire to be instructed, that I felt moved in
      his favor.&nbsp; Then his countenance was most winning, his voice of a
      superior tone; and finally he offered me sixty francs a month.&nbsp; In
      short, he is now my pupil.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      As well as she could, Mlle. Gilberte was hiding her blushes behind a
      music-book.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We remained over two hours talking,&#8221; said the good and simple
      maestro, &#8220;and I believe that he has excellent dispositions.&nbsp;
      Unfortunately, he can only take two lessons a week.&nbsp; Although a
      nobleman, he works; and, when he took off his glove to hand me a month in
      advance, I noticed that one of his hands was blackened, as if burnt by
      some acid.&nbsp; But never mind, signora, sixty francs, together with what
      your father gives me, it&rsquo;s a fortune.&nbsp; The end of my career will be
      spared the privations of its beginning.&nbsp; This young man will help
      making me known.&nbsp; The morning has been dark; but the sunset will be
      glorious.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl could no longer have any doubts:&nbsp; M. de Tregars had
      found the means of hearing from her, and letting her hear from him.
    </p>
    <p>
      The impression she felt contributed no little to give her the patience to
      endure the obstinate persecution of her father, who, twice a day, never
      failed to repeat to her:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Get ready to properly receive my protege on Saturday.&nbsp; I have
      not invited him to dinner:&nbsp; he will only spend the evening with us.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he mistook for a disposition to yield the cold tone in which she
      answered:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg you to believe that this introduction is wholly unnecessary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus, the famous day having come, he told his usual Saturday guests, M.
      and Mme. Desclavettes, M. Chapelain, and old man Desormeaux:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Eh, eh!&nbsp; I guess you are going to see a future son-in-law!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At nine o&rsquo;clock, just as they had passed into the parlor, the sound of
      carriage-wheels startled the Rue St. Gilles.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There he is!&#8221; exclaimed the cashier of the Mutual Credit.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, throwing open a window:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, Gilberte,&#8221; he added, &#8220;come and see his carriage
      and horses.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She never stirred; but M. Desclavettes and M. Chapelain ran.&nbsp; It was
      night, unfortunately; and of the whole equipage nothing was visible but
      the two lanterns that shone like stars.&nbsp; Almost at the same time the
      parlor-door flew open; and the servant, who had been properly trained in
      advance, announced:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Monsieur Costeclar.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Leaning toward Mme. Favoral, who was seated by her side on the sofa,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A nice-looking man, isn&rsquo;t he? a really nice-looking man,&#8221;
      whispered Mme. Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      And indeed he really thought so himself.&nbsp; Gesture, attitude, smile,
      every thing in M. Costeclar, betrayed the satisfaction of self, and the
      assurance of a man accustomed to success.&nbsp; His head, which was very
      small, had but little hair left; but it was artistically drawn towards the
      temples, parted in the middle, and cut short around the forehead.&nbsp;
      His leaden complexion, his pale lips, and his dull eye, did not certainly
      betray a very rich blood; he had a great long nose, sharp and curved like
      a sickle; and his beard, of undecided color, trimmed in the Victor
      Emmanuel style, did the greatest honor to the barber who cultivated it.&nbsp;
      Even when seen for the first time, one might fancy that he recognized him,
      so exactly was he like three or four hundred others who are seen daily in
      the neighborhood of the Caf&eacute; Riche, who are met everywhere where
      people run who pretend to amuse themselves,&#8212;at the bourse or in the
      bois; at the first representations, where they are just enough hidden to
      be perfectly well seen at the back of boxes filled with young ladies with
      astonishing chignons; at the races; in carriages, where they drink
      champagne to the health of the winner.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had on this occasion hoisted his best looks, and the full dress <i>de
      rigueur</i>&#8212;dress-coat with wide sleeves, shirt cut low in the neck,
      and open vest, fastened below the waist by a single button.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Quite the man of the world,&#8221; again remarked Mme.
      Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral rushed toward him; and the latter, hastening, met him half way,
      and, taking both his hands into his&#8212;&#8220;I cannot tell you, dear
      friend,&#8221; he commenced, &#8220;how deeply I feel the honor you do me
      in receiving me in the midst of your charming family and your respectable
      friends.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he bowed all around during this speech, which he delivered in the
      condescending tone of a lord visiting his inferiors.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let me introduce you to my wife,&#8221; interrupted the cashier.&nbsp;
      And, leading him towards Mme. Favoral&#8212;&#8220;Monsieur Costeclar, my
      dear,&#8221; said he:&nbsp; &#8220;the friend of whom we have spoken so
      often.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar bowed, rounding his shoulders, bending his lean form in a
      half-circle, and letting his arms hang forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am too much the friend of our dear Favoral, madame,&#8221; he
      uttered, &#8220;not to have heard of you long since, nor to know your
      merits, and the fact that he owes to you that peaceful happiness which he
      enjoys, and which we all envy him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Standing by the mantel-piece, the usual Saturday evening guests followed
      with the liveliest interest the evolutions of the pretender.&nbsp; Two of
      them, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, were perfectly able to appreciate
      him at his just value; but, in affirming that he made half a million a
      year, M. Favoral had, as it were, thrown over his shoulders that famous
      ducal cloak which concealed all deformities.
    </p>
    <p>
      Without waiting for his wife&rsquo;s answer, M. Favoral brought his protege in
      front of Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear daughter,&#8221; said he, &#8220;Monsieur Costeclar, the
      friend of whom I have spoken.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar bowed still lower, and rounded off his shoulders again; but
      the young lady looked at him from head to foot with such a freezing
      glance, that his tongue remained as if paralyzed in his mouth, and he
      could only stammer out:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mademoiselle! the honor, the humblest of your admirers.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Fortunately Maxence was standing three steps off&#8212;he fell back in
      good order upon him, and seizing his hand, which he shook vigorously:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I hope, my dear sir, that we shall soon be quite intimate friends.&nbsp;
      Your excellent father, whose special concern you are, has often spoken to
      me of you.&nbsp; Events, so he has confided to me, have not hitherto
      responded to your expectations.&nbsp; At your age, this is not a very
      grave matter.&nbsp; People, now-a-days, do not always find at the first
      attempt the road that leads to fortune.&nbsp; You will find yours.&nbsp;
      From this time forth I place at your command my influence and my
      experience; and, if you will consent to take me for your guide&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had withdrawn his hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am very much obliged to you, sir,&#8221; he answered coldly;
      &#8220;but I am content with my lot, and I believe myself old enough to
      walk alone.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Almost any one would have lost countenance.&nbsp; But M. Costeclar was so
      little put out, that it seemed as though he had expected just such a
      reception.&nbsp; He turned upon his heels, and advanced towards M.
      Favoral&rsquo;s friends with a smile so engaging as to make it evident that he
      was anxious to conquer their suffrages.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was at the beginning of the month of June, 1870.&nbsp; No one as yet
      could foresee the frightful disasters which were to mark the end of that
      fatal year.&nbsp; And yet there was everywhere in France that indefinable
      anxiety which precedes great social convulsions.&nbsp; The plebiscitum had
      not succeeded in restoring confidence.&nbsp; Every day the most alarming
      rumors were put in circulation and it was with a sort of passion that
      people went in quest of news.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now, M. Costeclar was a wonderfully well-posted man.&nbsp; He had,
      doubtless, on his way, stopped on the Boulevard des Italiens, that blessed
      ground where nightly the street-brokers labor for the financial prosperity
      of the country.&nbsp; He had gone through the Passage de l&rsquo;Opera, which
      is, as is well known, the best market for the most correct and the most
      reliable news.&nbsp; Therefore he might safely be believed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Placing his back to the chimney, he had taken the lead in the
      conversation; and he was talking, talking, talking.&nbsp; Being a &#8220;bull,&#8221;
      he took a favorable view of every thing.&nbsp; He believed in the eternity
      of the second empire.&nbsp; He sang the praise of the new cabinet:&nbsp;
      he was ready to pour out his blood for Emile Ollivier.&nbsp; True, some
      people complained that business was dull and slow; but those people, he
      thought, were merely &#8220;bears.&#8221;&nbsp; Business had never been so
      brilliant.&nbsp; At no time had prosperity been greater.&nbsp; Capital was
      abundant.&nbsp; The institutions of credit were flourishing.&nbsp;
      Securities were rising.&nbsp; Everybody&rsquo;s pockets were full to bursting.&nbsp;
      And the others listened in astonishment to this inexhaustible prattle,
      this &#8220;gab,&#8221; more filled with gold spangles than Dantzig
      cordial, with which the commercial travelers of the bourse catch their
      customers.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suddenly:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But you must excuse me,&#8221; he said, rushing towards the other
      end of the parlor.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral had just left the room to order tea to be brought in; and,
      the seat by Mlle. Gilberte being vacant, M. Costeclar occupied it
      promptly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He understands his business,&#8221; growled M. Desormeaux.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Surely,&#8221; said M. Desclavettes, &#8220;if I had some funds to
      dispose of just now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I would be most happy to have him for my son-in-law,&#8221;
      declared M. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was doing his best.&nbsp; Somewhat intimidated by Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s
      first look, he had now fully recovered his wits.
    </p>
    <p>
      He commenced by sketching his own portrait.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had just turned thirty, and had experienced the strong and the weak
      side of life.&nbsp; He had had &#8220;successes,&#8221; but had tired of
      them.&nbsp; Having gauged the emptiness of what is called pleasure, he
      only wished now to find a partner for life, whose graces and virtues would
      secure his domestic happiness.
    </p>
    <p>
      He could not help noticing the absent look of the young girl; but he had,
      thought he, other means of compelling her attention.&nbsp; And he went on,
      saying that he felt himself cast of the metal of which model husbands are
      made.&nbsp; His plans were all made in advance.&nbsp; His wife would be
      free to do as she pleased.&nbsp; She would have her own carriage and
      horses, her box at the Italiens and at the Opera, and an open account at
      Worth&rsquo;s and Van Klopen&rsquo;s.&nbsp; As to diamonds, he would take care of
      that.&nbsp; He meant that his wife&rsquo;s display of wealth should be noticed;
      and even spoken of in the newspapers.
    </p>
    <p>
      Was this the terms of a bargain that he was offering?
    </p>
    <p>
      If so, it was so coarsely, that Mlle. Gilberte, ignorant of life as she
      was, wondered in what world it might be that he had met with so many
      &#8220;successes.&#8221;&nbsp; And, somewhat indignantly:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately,&#8221; she said, &#8220;the bourse is perfidious;
      and the man who drives his own carriage to-day, to-morrow may have no
      shoes to wear.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar nodded with a smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Exactly so,&#8221; said he.&nbsp; &#8220;A marriage protects one
      against such reverses.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Every man in active business, when he marries, settles upon his
      wife reasonable fortune.&nbsp; I expect to settle six hundred thousand
      francs upon mine.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So that, if you were to meet with an&#8212;accident?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We should enjoy our thirty thousand a year under the very nose of
      the creditors.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Blushing with shame, Mlle. Gilberte rose.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But then,&#8221; said she, &#8220;it isn&rsquo;t a wife that you are
      looking for:&nbsp; it is an accomplice.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was spared the embarrassment of an answer, by the servant, who came in,
      bringing in tea.&nbsp; He accepted a cup; and after two or three
      anecdotes, judging that he had done enough for a first visit, he withdrew,
      and a moment later they heard his carriage driving off at full gallop.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XVI
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was not without mature thought that M. Costeclar had determined to
      withdraw, despite M. Favoral&rsquo;s pressing overtures.&nbsp; However
      infatuated he might be with his own merits, he had been compelled to
      surrender to evidence, and to acknowledge that he had not exactly
      succeeded with Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; But he also knew that he had the head
      of the house on his side; and he flattered himself that he had produced an
      excellent impression upon the guests of the house.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Therefore,&#8221; had he said to himself, &#8220;if I leave first,
      they will sing my praise, lecture the young person, and make her listen to
      reason.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was not far from being right.&nbsp; Mme. Desclavettes had been
      completely subjugated by the grand manners of this pretender; and M.
      Desclavettes did not hesitate to affirm that he had rarely met any one who
      pleased him more.
    </p>
    <p>
      The others, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, did not, doubtless, share
      this optimism; but M. Costeclar&rsquo;s annual half-million obscured singularly
      their clear-sightedness.
    </p>
    <p>
      They thought perhaps, they had discovered in him some alarming features;
      but they had full and entire confidence in their friend Favoral&rsquo;s prudent
      sagacity.
    </p>
    <p>
      The particular and methodic cashier of the Mutual Credit was not apt to be
      enthusiastic; and, if he opened the doors of his house to a young man, if
      he was so anxious to have him for his son-in-law, he must evidently have
      taken ample information.
    </p>
    <p>
      Finally there are certain family matters from which sensible people keep
      away as they would from the plague; and, on the question of marriage
      especially, he is a bold man who would take side for or against.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus Mme. Desclavettes was the only one to raise her voice.&nbsp; Taking
      Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s hands within hers:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let me scold you, my dear,&#8221; said she, &#8220;for having
      received thus a poor young man who was only trying to please you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Excepting her mother, too weak to take her defence, and her brother, who
      was debarred from interfering, the young girl understood readily, that, in
      that parlor, every one, overtly or tacitly, was against her.&nbsp; The
      idea came to her mind to repeat there boldly what she had already told her
      father that she was resolved not to marry, and that she would not marry,
      not being one of those weak girls, without energy, whom they dress in
      white, and drag to church against their will.
    </p>
    <p>
      Such a bold declaration would be in keeping with her character.&nbsp; But
      she feared a terrible, and perhaps degrading scene.&nbsp; The most
      intimate friends of the family were ignorant of its most painful sores.&nbsp;
      In presence of his friends, M. Favoral dissembled, speaking in a mild
      voice, and assuming a kindly smile.&nbsp; Should she suddenly reveal the
      truth?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is childish of you to run the risk of discouraging a clever
      fellow who makes half a million a year,&#8221; continued the wife of the
      old bronze-merchant, to whom such conduct seemed an abominable crime of <i>lese-money</i>.&nbsp;
      Mlle. Gilberte had withdrawn her hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You did not hear what he said, madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg your pardon:&nbsp; I was quite near, and involuntarily&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have heard his&#8212;propositions?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perfectly.&nbsp; He was promising you a carriage, a box at the
      opera, diamonds, freedom.&nbsp; Isn&rsquo;t that the dream of all young ladies?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not mine, madame!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me!&nbsp; What better can you wish?&nbsp; You must not expect
      more from a husband than he can possibly give.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is not what I shall expect of him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In a tone of paternal indulgence, which his looks belied:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is mad,&#8221; suggested M. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Tears of indignation filled Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mme. Desclavettes,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;forgets something.&nbsp;
      She forgets that this gentleman dared to tell me that he proposed to
      settle upon the woman he marries a large fortune, of which his creditors
      would thus be cheated in case of his failure in business.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She thought, in her simplicity, that a cry of indignation would rise at
      these words.&nbsp; Instead of which:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, isn&rsquo;t it perfectly natural?&#8221; said M. Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It seems to me more than natural,&#8221; insisted Mme.
      Desclavettes, &#8220;that a man should be anxious to preserve from ruin
      his wife and children.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course,&#8221; put in M. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Stepping resolutely toward her father:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you, then, taken such precautions yourself?&#8221; demanded
      Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No,&#8221; answered the cashier of the Mutual Credit.&nbsp; And,
      after a moment of hesitation:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I am running no risks,&#8221; he added.&nbsp; &#8220;In
      business, and when a man may be ruined by a mere rise or fall in stocks,
      he would be insane indeed who did not secure bread for his family, and,
      above all, means for himself, wherewith to commence again.&nbsp; The Baron
      de Thaller did not act otherwise; and, should he meet with a disaster,
      Mme. de Thaller would still have a handsome fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Desormeaux was, perhaps, the only one not to admit freely that theory,
      and not to accept that ever-decisive reason, &#8220;Others do it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he was a philosopher, and thought it silly not to be of his time.&nbsp;
      He therefore contented himself with saying:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Hum!&nbsp; M. de Thaller&rsquo;s creditors might not think that mode of
      proceeding entirely regular.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then they might sue,&#8221; said M. Chapelain, laughing.&nbsp;
      &#8220;People can always sue; only when the papers are well drawn&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte stood dismayed.&nbsp; She thought of Marius de Tregars
      giving up his mother&rsquo;s fortune to pay his father&rsquo;s debts.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What would he say,&#8221; thought she, &#8220;should he hear such
      opinions!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The cashier of the Mutual Credit resumed:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Surely I blame every species of fraud.&nbsp; But I pretend, and I
      maintain, that a man who has worked twenty years to give a handsome dowry
      to his daughter has the right to demand of his son-in-law certain
      conservative measures to guarantee the money, which, after all, is his
      own, and which is to benefit no one but his own family.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This declaration closed the evening.&nbsp; It was getting late.&nbsp; The
      Saturday guests put on their overcoats; and, as they were walking home,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can you understand that little Gilberte?&#8221; said Mme.
      Desclavettes.&nbsp; &#8220;I&rsquo;d like to see a daughter of mine have such
      fancies!&nbsp; But her poor mother is so weak!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes; but friend Favoral is firm enough for both,&#8221; interrupted
      M. Desormeaux; &#8220;and it is more than probable that at this very
      moment he is correcting his daughter of the sin of sloth.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, not at all.&nbsp; Extremely angry as M. Favoral must have been,
      neither that evening, nor the next day, did he make the remotest allusion
      to what had taken place.
    </p>
    <p>
      The following Monday only, before leaving for his office, casting upon his
      wife and daughter one of his ugliest looks:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Costeclar owes us a visit,&#8221; said he; &#8220;and it
      is possible that he may call in my absence.&nbsp; I wish him to be
      admitted; and I forbid you to go out, so that you can have no pretext to
      refuse him the door.&nbsp; I presume there will not be found in my house
      any one bold enough to ill receive a man whom I like, and whom I have
      selected for my son-in-law.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But was it probable, was it even possible, that M. Costeclar could venture
      upon such a step after Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s treatment of him on the previous
      Saturday evening?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, a thousand times no!&#8221; affirmed Maxence to his mother and
      sister.&nbsp; &#8220;So you may rest easy.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Indeed they tried to be, until that very afternoon the sound of
      rapidly-rolling wheels attracted Mme. Favoral to the window.&nbsp; A
      coupe, drawn by two gray horses, had just stopped at the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It must be he,&#8221; she said to her daughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte had turned slightly pale.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is no help for it, mother,&#8221; she said:&nbsp; &#8220;You
      must receive him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall remain in my room.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you suppose he won&rsquo;t ask for you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will answer that I am unwell.&nbsp; He will understand.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But your father, unhappy child, your father?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not acknowledge to my father the right of disposing of my
      person against my wishes.&nbsp; I detest that man to whom he wishes to
      marry me.&nbsp; Would you like to see me his wife, to know me given up to
      the most intolerable torture?&nbsp; No, there is no violence in the world
      that will ever wring my consent from me.&nbsp; So, mother dear, do what I
      ask you.&nbsp; My father can say what he pleases:&nbsp; I take the whole
      responsibility upon myself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was no time to argue:&nbsp; the bell rang.&nbsp; Mlle. Gilberte had
      barely time to escape through one of the doors of the parlor, whilst M.
      Costeclar was entering at the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      If he did have enough perspicacity to guess what had just taken place, he
      did not in any way show it.&nbsp; He sat down; and it was only after
      conversing for a few moments upon indifferent subjects, that he asked how
      Mlle. Gilberte was.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is somewhat&#8212;unwell,&#8221; stammered Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      He did not appear surprised; only,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Our dear Favoral,&#8221; he said, &#8220;will be still more pained
      than I am when he hears of this mishap.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Better than any other mother, Mme. Favoral must have understood and
      approved Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s invincible repugnance.&nbsp; To her also, when
      she was young, her father had come one day, and said, &#8220;I have
      discovered a husband for you.&#8221;&nbsp; She had accepted him blindly.&nbsp;
      Bruised and wounded by daily outrages, she had sought refuge in marriage
      as in a haven of safety.
    </p>
    <p>
      And since, hardly a day had elapsed that she had not thought it would have
      been better for her to have died rather then to have riveted to her neck
      those fetters that death alone can remove.&nbsp; She thought, therefore,
      that her daughter was perfectly right.&nbsp; And yet twenty years of
      slavery had so weakened the springs of her energy, that under the glance
      of Costeclar, threatening her with her husband&rsquo;s name, she felt
      embarrassed, and could scarcely stammer some timid excuses.&nbsp; And she
      allowed him to prolong his visit, and consequently her torment, for over
      an half an hour; then, when he had gone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He and your father understand each other,&#8221; said she to her
      daughter, &#8220;that is but too evident.&nbsp; What is the use of
      struggling?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A fugitive blush colored the pale cheeks of Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; For the
      past forty-eight hours she had been exhausting herself, seeking an issue
      to an impossible situation; and she had accustomed her mind to the worst
      eventualities.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you wish me, then, to desert the paternal roof?&#8221; she
      exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral almost dropped on the floor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You would run away,&#8221; she stammered, &#8220;you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Rather than become that man&rsquo;s wife, yes!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And where would you go, unfortunate child? what would you do?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I can earn my living.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral shook her head sadly.&nbsp; The same suspicions were reviving
      within her that she had felt once before.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Gilberte,&#8221; she said in a beseeching tone, &#8220;am I, then,
      no longer your best friend? and will you not tell me from what sources you
      draw your courage and your resolution?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as her daughter said nothing:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;God alone knows what may happen!&#8221; sighed the poor woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nothing happened, but what could have been easily foreseen.&nbsp; When M.
      Favoral came home to dinner, he was whistling a perfect storm on the
      stairs.&nbsp; He abstained at first from all recrimination; but towards
      the end of the meal, with the most sarcastic look he could assume:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It seems,&#8221; he said to his daughter, &#8220;that you were
      unwell this afternoon?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Bravely, and without flinching, she sustained his look; and, in a firm
      voice:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall always be indisposed,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;when M.
      Costeclar calls.&nbsp; You hear me, don&rsquo;t you, father&#8212;always!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the cashier of the Credit Mutual was not one of those men whose wrath
      finds vent in mere sarcasms.&nbsp; Rising suddenly to his feet:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By the holy heavens!&#8221; he screamed forth, &#8220;you are wrong
      to trifle thus with my will; for, all of you here, I shall crush you as I
      do this glass.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, with a frenzied gesture, he dashed the glass he held in his hand
      against the wall, where it broke in a thousand pieces.&nbsp; Trembling
      like a leaf, Mme. Favoral staggered upon her chair.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XVII
    </h2>
    <p>
      &#8220;Better kill her at once,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte coldly.&nbsp;
      &#8220;She would suffer less.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was by a torrent of invective that M. Favoral replied.&nbsp; His rage,
      dammed up for the past four days, finding at last an outlet, flowed in
      gross insults and insane threats.&nbsp; He spoke of throwing out in the
      street his wife and children, or starving them out, or shutting up his
      daughter in a house of correction; until at last, language failing his
      fury, beside himself, he left, swearing that he would bring M. Costeclar
      home himself, and then they would see.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, we shall see,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      Motionless in his place, and white as a plaster cast, Maxence had
      witnessed this lamentable scene.&nbsp; A gleam of common-sense had enabled
      him to control his indignation, and to remain silent.&nbsp; He had
      understood, that, at the first word, his father&rsquo;s fury would have turned
      against him; and then what might have happened?&nbsp; The most frightful
      dramas of the criminal courts have often had no other origin.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, this is no longer bearable!&#8221; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Even at the time of his greatest follies, Maxence had always had for his
      sister a fraternal affection.&nbsp; He admired her from the day she had
      stood up before him to reproach him for his misconduct.&nbsp; He envied
      her her quiet determination, her patient tenacity, and that calm energy
      that never failed her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have patience, my poor Gilberte,&#8221; he added:&nbsp; &#8220;the
      day is not far, I hope, when I may commence to repay you all you have done
      for me.&nbsp; I have not lost my time since you restored me my reason.&nbsp;
      I have arranged with my creditors.&nbsp; I have found a situation, which,
      if not brilliant, is at least sufficiently lucrative to enable me before
      long to offer you, as well as to our mother, a peaceful retreat.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But it is to-morrow,&#8221; interrupted Mme. Favoral, &#8220;to-morrow
      that your father is to bring M. Costeclar.&nbsp; He has said so, and he
      will do it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And so he did.&nbsp; About two o&rsquo;clock in the afternoon M. Favoral and his
      protege arrived in the Rue St. Gilles, in that famous coupe with the two
      horses, which excited the wonder of the neighbors.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mlle. Gilberte had her plan ready.&nbsp; She was on the lookout; and,
      as soon as she heard the carriage stop, she ran to her room, undressed in
      a twinkling, and went to bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      When her father came for her, and saw her in bed, he remained surprised
      and puzzled on the threshold of the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet I&rsquo;ll make you come into the parlor!&#8221; he said in a
      hoarse voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you must carry me there as I am,&#8221; she said in a tone of
      defiance; &#8220;for I shall certainly not get up.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time since his marriage, M. Favoral met in his own house a
      more inflexible will than his own, and a more unyielding obstinacy.&nbsp;
      He was baffled.&nbsp; He threatened his daughter with his clinched fists,
      but could discover no means of making her obey.&nbsp; He was compelled to
      surrender, to yield.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This will be settled with the rest,&#8221; he growled, as he went
      out.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I fear nothing in the world, father,&#8221; said the girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was almost true, so much did the thought of Marius de Tregars inflame
      her courage.&nbsp; Twice already she had heard from him through the Signor
      Gismondo Pulei, who never tired talking of this new pupil, to whom he had
      already given two lessons.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is the most gallant man in the world,&#8221; he said, his eye
      sparkling with enthusiasm, &#8220;and the bravest, and the most generous,
      and the best; and no quality that can adorn one of God&rsquo;s creatures shall
      be wanting in him when I have taught him the divine art.&nbsp; It is not
      with a little contemptible gold that he means to reward my zeal.&nbsp; To
      him I am as a second father; and it is with the confidence of a son that
      he explains to me his labors and his hopes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus Mlle. Gilberte learned through the old maestro, that the newspaper
      article she had read was almost exactly true, and that M. de Tregars and
      M. Marcolet had become associated for the purpose of working, in joint
      account, certain recent discoveries, which bid fair to yield large profits
      in a near future.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet it is for my sake alone that he has thus thrown himself
      into the turmoil of business, and has become as eager for gain as that M.
      Marcolet himself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, at the height of her father&rsquo;s persecutions, she felt glad of what she
      had done, and of her boldness in placing her destiny in the hands of a
      stranger.&nbsp; The memory of Marius had become her refuge, the element of
      all her dreams and of all her hopes; in a word, her life.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was of Marius she was thinking, when her mother, surprising her gazing
      into vacancy, would ask her, &#8220;What are you thinking of?&#8221;&nbsp;
      And, at every new vexation she had to endure, her imagination decked him
      with a new quality, and she clung to him with a more desperate grasp.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How much he would grieve,&#8221; thought she, &#8220;if he knew of
      what persecution I am the object!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And very careful was she not to allow the Signor Gismondo Pulei to suspect
      any thing of it, affecting, on the contrary, in his presence, the most
      cheerful serenity.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet she was a prey to the most cruel anxiety, since she observed a new
      and most incredible transformation in her father.
    </p>
    <p>
      That man so violent and so harsh, who flattered himself never to have been
      bent, who boasted never to have forgotten or forgiven any thing, that
      domestic tyrant, had become quite a debonair personage.&nbsp; He had
      referred to the expedient imagined by Mlle. Gilberte only to laugh at it,
      saying that it was a good trick, and he deserved it; for he repented
      bitterly, he protested, his past brutalities.
    </p>
    <p>
      He owned that he had at heart his daughter&rsquo;s marriage with M. Costeclar;
      but he acknowledged that he had made use of the surest means for making it
      fail.&nbsp; He should, he humbly confessed, have expected every thing of
      time and circumstances, of M. Costeclar&rsquo;s excellent qualities, and of his
      beautiful, darling daughter&rsquo;s good sense.
    </p>
    <p>
      More than of all his violence, Mme. Favoral was terrified at this affected
      good nature.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me!&#8221; she sighed, &#8220;what does it all mean?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the cashier of the Mutual Credit was not preparing any new surprise to
      his family.&nbsp; If the means were different, it was still the same
      object that he was pursuing with the tenacity of an insect.&nbsp; When
      severity had failed, he hoped to succeed by gentleness, that&rsquo;s all.&nbsp;
      Only this assumption of hypocritical meekness was too new to him to
      deceive any one.&nbsp; At every moment the mask fell off, the claws
      showed, and his voice trembled with ill-suppressed rage in the midst of
      his most honeyed phrases.
    </p>
    <p>
      Moreover, he entertained the strangest illusions.&nbsp; Because for
      forty-eight hours he had acted the part of a good-natured man, because one
      Sunday he had taken his wife and daughter out riding in the Bois de
      Vincennes, because he had given Maxence a hundred-franc note, he imagined
      that it was all over, that the past was obliterated, forgotten, and
      forgiven.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, drawing Gilberte upon his knees,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, daughter,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you see that I don&rsquo;t
      importune you any more, and I leave you quite free.&nbsp; I am more
      reasonable than you are.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But on the other hand, and according to an expression which escaped him
      later, he tried to turn the enemy.
    </p>
    <p>
      He did every thing in his power to spread in the neighborhood the rumor of
      Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s marriage with a financier of colossal wealth,&#8212;that
      elegant young man who came in a coupe with two horses.&nbsp; Mme. Favoral
      could not enter a shop without being covertly complimented upon having
      found such a magnificent establishment for her daughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      Loud, indeed, must have been the gossip; for its echo reached even the
      inattentive ears of the Signor Gismondo Pulei.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day, suddenly interrupting his lesson,&#8212;&#8220;You are going to
      be married, signora?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte started.
    </p>
    <p>
      What the old Italian had heard, he would surely ere long repeat to Marius.&nbsp;
      It was therefore urgent to undeceive him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is true,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;that something has been said
      about a marriage, dear maestro.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, ah!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Only my father had not consulted me.&nbsp; That marriage will never
      take place:&nbsp; I swear it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She expressed herself in a tone of such ardent conviction, that the old
      gentleman was quite astonished, little dreaming that it was not to him
      that this energetic denial was addressed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My destiny is irrevocably fixed,&#8221; added Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp;
      &#8220;When I marry, I will consult the inspirations of my heart only.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In the mean time, it was a veritable conspiracy against her.&nbsp; M.
      Favoral had succeeded in interesting in the success of his designs his
      habitual guests, not M. and Mme. Desclavettes, who had been seduced from
      the first, but M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux himself.&nbsp; So that they
      all vied with each other in their efforts to bring the &#8220;dear child&#8221;
      to reason, and to enlighten her with their counsels.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Father must have a still more considerable interest in this
      alliance than he has allowed us to think,&#8221; she remarked to her
      brother.&nbsp; Maxence was also absolutely of the same opinion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And then,&#8221; he added, &#8220;our father must be terribly rich;
      for, do not deceive yourself, it isn&rsquo;t solely for your pretty blue eyes
      that this Costeclar persists in coming here twice a week to pocket a new
      mortification.&nbsp; What enormous dowry can he be hoping for?&nbsp; I am
      going to speak to him myself, and try to find out what he is after.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mlle. Gilberte had but slight confidence in her brother&rsquo;s diplomacy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg of you,&#8221; she said, &#8220;don&rsquo;t meddle with that
      business!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, yes, I will!&nbsp; Fear nothing, I&rsquo;ll be prudent.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Having taken his resolution, Maxence placed himself on the lookout; and
      the very next day, as M. Costeclar was stepping out of his carriage at the
      door, he walked straight up to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I wish to speak to you, sir,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; Self-possessed
      as he was, the brilliant financier succeeded but poorly in concealing a
      surprise that looked very much like fright.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am going in to call on your parents, sir,&#8221; he replied;
      &#8220;and whilst waiting for your father, with whom I have an
      appointment, I shall be at your command.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, no!&#8221; interrupted Maxence.&nbsp; &#8220;What I have to say
      must be heard by you alone.&nbsp; Come along this way, and we shall not be
      interrupted.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he led M. Costeclar away as far as the Place Royal.&nbsp; Once there,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are very anxious to marry my sister, sir,&#8221; he commenced.
    </p>
    <p>
      During their short walk M. Costeclar had recovered himself.&nbsp; He had
      resumed all his impertinent assurance.&nbsp; Looking at Maxence from head
      to foot with any thing but a friendly look,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is my dearest and my most ardent wish, sir,&#8221; he replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well.&nbsp; But you must have noticed the very slight success,
      to use no harsher word, of your assiduities.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, perhaps, you will judge, like myself, that it would be the act
      of a gentleman to withdraw in presence of such positive repugnance?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      An ugly smile was wandering upon M. Costeclar&rsquo;s pale lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it at the request of your sister, sir, that you make me this
      communication?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you aware whether your sister has some inclination that may be
      an obstacle to the realization of my hopes?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sir!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Excuse me!&nbsp; What I say has nothing to offend.&nbsp; It might
      very well be that your sister, before I had the honor of being introduced
      to her, had already fixed her choice.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He spoke so loud, that Maxence looked sharply around to see whether there
      was not some one within hearing.&nbsp; He saw no one but a young man, who
      seemed quite absorbed reading a newspaper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But, sir,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;what would you answer, if I,
      the brother of the young lady whom you wish to marry against her wishes,&#8212;I
      called upon you to cease your assiduities?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar bowed ceremoniously,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I would answer you, sir,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;that your
      father&rsquo;s assent is sufficient for me.&nbsp; My suit has nothing but is
      honorable.&nbsp; Your sister may not like me:&nbsp; that is a misfortune;
      but it is not irreparable.&nbsp; When she knows me better, I venture to
      hope that she will overcome her unjust prejudices.&nbsp; Therefore I shall
      persist.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence insisted no more.&nbsp; He was irritated at M. Costeclar&rsquo;s
      coolness; but it was not his intention to push things further.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There will always be time,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;to resort to
      violent measures.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But when he reported this conversation to his sister,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is clear,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that, between our father and
      that man, there is a community of interests which I am unable to discover.&nbsp;
      What business have they together?&nbsp; In what respect can your marriage
      either help or injure them?&nbsp; I must see, try and find out exactly who
      is this Costeclar:&nbsp; the deuse take him!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He started out the same day, and had not far to go.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar was one of those personalities which only bloom in Paris, and
      are only met in Paris,&#8212;the same as cab-horses, and young ladies with
      yellow chignons.
    </p>
    <p>
      He knew everybody, and everybody knew him.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was well known at the bourse, in all the principal restaurants, where
      he called the waiters by their first names, at the box-office of the
      theatres, at all the pool-rooms, and at the European Club, otherwise
      called the Nomadic Club, of which he was a member.
    </p>
    <p>
      He operated at the bourse:&nbsp; that was sure.&nbsp; He was said to own a
      third interest in a stock-broker&rsquo;s office.&nbsp; He had a good deal of
      business with M. Jottras, of the house of Jottras and Brother, and M.
      Saint Pavin, the manager of a very popular journal, &#8220;The Financial
      Pilot.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was further known that he had on Rue Vivienne, a magnificent apartment,
      and that he had successively honored with his liberal protection Mlle.
      Sidney of the Varieties, and Mme. Jenny Fancy, a lady of a certain age
      already, but so situated as to return to her lovers in notoriety what they
      gave her in good money.&nbsp; So much did Maxence learn without
      difficulty.&nbsp; As to any more precise details, it was impossible to
      obtain them.&nbsp; To his pressing questions upon M. Costeclar&rsquo;s
      antecedents,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is a perfectly honest man,&#8221; answered some.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is simply a speculator,&#8221; affirmed others.
    </p>
    <p>
      But all agreed that he was a sharp one; who would surely make his fortune,
      and without passing through the police-courts, either.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How can our father and such a man be so intimately connected?&#8221;
      wondered Maxence and his sister.
    </p>
    <p>
      And they were lost in conjectures, when suddenly, at an hour when he never
      set his foot in the house, M. Favoral appeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      Throwing a letter upon his daughter&rsquo;s lap,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;See what I have just received from Costeclar,&#8221; he said in a
      hoarse voice.&nbsp; &#8220;Read.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She read, &#8220;Allow me, dear friend, to release you from your
      engagement.&nbsp; Owing to circumstances absolutely beyond my control, I
      find myself compelled to give up the honor of becoming a member of your
      family.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      What could have happened?
    </p>
    <p>
      Standing in the middle of the parlor, the cashier of the Mutual Credit
      held, bowed down beneath his glance, his wife and children, Mme. Favoral
      trembling, Maxence starting in mute surprise, and Mlle. Gilberte, who
      needed all the strength of her will to control the explosion of her
      immense joy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Every thing in M. Favoral betrayed, nevertheless, much more the excitement
      of a disaster than the rage of a deception.
    </p>
    <p>
      Never had his family seen him thus,&#8212;livid, his cravat undone, his
      hair wet with perspiration, and clinging to his temples.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Will you please explain this letter?&#8221; he asked at last.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as no one answered him, he took up that letter again from the table
      where Mlle. Gilberte had laid it, and commenced reading it again, scanning
      each syllable, as if in hopes of discovering in each word some hidden
      meaning.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What did you say to Costeclar?&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;what did
      you do to him to make him take such a determination?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing,&#8221; answered Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      The hope of being at last rid of that man inspired Mme. Favoral with
      something like courage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He has doubtless understood,&#8221; she meekly suggested, &#8220;that
      he could not triumph over our daughter&rsquo;s repugnance.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But her husband interrupted her,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;Costeclar is not the man to trouble
      himself about the ridiculous caprices of a little girl.&nbsp; There is
      something else.&nbsp; But what is it?&nbsp; Come, if you know it, any of
      you, if you suspect it even, speak, say it.&nbsp; You must see that I am
      in a state of fearful anxiety.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was the first time that he thus allowed something to appear of what was
      passing within him, the first time that he ever complained.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Costeclar alone, father, can give you the explanation you
      ask of us,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cashier of the Mutual Credit shook his head.&nbsp; &#8220;Do you
      suppose, then, that I have not questioned him?&nbsp; I found his letter
      this morning at the office.&nbsp; At once I ran to his apartments, Rue
      Vivienne.&nbsp; He had just gone out; and it is in vain that I called for
      him at Jottras&rsquo;, and at the office of &#8216;The Financial Pilot.&#8217;&nbsp;
      I found him at last at the bourse, after running three hours.&nbsp; But I
      could only get from him evasive answers and vague explanations.&nbsp; Of
      course he did not fail to say, that, if he does withdraw, it is because he
      despairs of ever succeeding in pleasing Gilberte.&nbsp; But it isn&rsquo;t so:&nbsp;
      I know it; I am sure of it; I read it in his eyes.&nbsp; Twice his lips
      moved as if he were about to confess all; and then he said nothing.&nbsp;
      And the more I insisted, the more he seemed ill at ease, embarrassed,
      uneasy, troubled, the more he appeared to me like a man who has been
      threatened, and dares not brave the threat.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He directed upon his children one of those obstinate looks which search
      the inmost depths of the conscience.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If you have done any thing to drive him off,&#8221; he resumed,
      &#8220;confess it frankly, and I swear I will not reproach you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We did not.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You did not threaten him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral seemed appalled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Doubtless you deceive me,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and I hope you do.&nbsp;
      Unhappy children! you do not know what this rupture may cost you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, instead of returning to his office, he shut himself up in that little
      room which he called his study, and only came out of it at about five
      o&rsquo;clock, holding under his arm an enormous bundle of papers, and saying
      that it was useless to wait for him for dinner, as he would not come home
      until late in the night, if he came home at all, being compelled to make
      up for his lost day.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter with your father, my poor children?&#8221;
      exclaimed Mme. Favoral.&nbsp; &#8220;I have never seen him in such a
      state.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Doubtless,&#8221; replied Maxence, &#8220;the rupture with
      Costeclar is going to break up some combination.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But that explanation did not satisfy him any more than it did his mother.&nbsp;
      He, too, felt a vague apprehension of some impending misfortune.&nbsp; But
      what?&nbsp; He had nothing upon which to base his conjectures.&nbsp; He
      knew nothing, any more than his mother, of his father&rsquo;s affairs, of his
      relations, of his interests, or even of his life, outside the house.
    </p>
    <p>
      And mother and son lost themselves in suppositions as vain as if they had
      tried to find the solution of a problem, without possessing its terms.
    </p>
    <p>
      With a single word Mlle. Gilberte thought she might have enlightened them.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the unerring certainty of the blow, in the crushing promptness of the
      result, she thought she could recognize the hand of Marius de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      She recognized the hand of the man who acts, and does not talk.&nbsp; And
      the girl&rsquo;s pride felt flattered by this victory, by this proof of the
      powerful energy of the man whom, unknown to all, she had selected.&nbsp;
      She liked to imagine Marius de Tregars and M. Costeclar in presence of
      each other,&#8212;the one as imperious and haughty as she had seen him
      meek and trembling; the other more humble still than he was arrogant with
      her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;One thing is certain,&#8221; she repeated to herself; &#8220;and
      that is, I am saved.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she wished the morrow to come, that she might announce her happiness
      to the very involuntary and very unconscious accomplice of Marius, the
      worthy Maestro Gismondo Pulei.
    </p>
    <p>
      The next day M. Favoral seemed to have resigned himself to the failure of
      his projects; and, the following Saturday, he told as a pleasant joke, how
      Mlle. Gilberte had carried the day, and had managed to dismiss her lover.
    </p>
    <p>
      But a close observer could discover in him symptoms of devouring cares.&nbsp;
      Deep wrinkles showed along his temples; his eyes were sunken; a continued
      tension of mind contracted his features.&nbsp; Often during the dinner he
      would remain motionless for several minutes, his fork aloft; and then he
      would murmur, &#8220;How is it all going to end?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Sometimes in the morning, before his departure for his office, M. Jottras,
      of the house of Jottras and Brother, and M. Saint Pavin, the manager of
      &#8220;The Financial Pilot,&#8221; came to see him.&nbsp; They closeted
      themselves together, and remained for hours in conference, speaking so
      low, that not even a vague murmur could be heard outside the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your father has grave subjects of anxiety, my children,&#8221; said
      Mme. Favoral:&nbsp; &#8220;you may believe me,&#8212;me, who for twenty
      years have been trying to guess our fate upon his countenance.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the political events were sufficient to explain any amount of anxiety.&nbsp;
      It was the second week of July, 1870; and the destinies of France
      trembled, as upon a cast of the dice, in the hands of a few presumptuous
      incapables.&nbsp; Was it war with Prussia, or was it peace, that was to
      issue from the complications of a childishly astute policy?
    </p>
    <p>
      The most contradictory rumors caused daily at the bourse the most violent
      oscillations, which endangered the safest fortunes.&nbsp; A few words
      uttered in a corridor by Emile Ollivier had made a dozen heavy operators
      rich, but had ruined five hundred small ones.&nbsp; On all hands, credit
      was trembling.
    </p>
    <p>
      Until one evening when he came home,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;War is declared,&#8221; said M. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was but too true; and no one then had any fears of the result for
      France.&nbsp; They had so much exalted the French army, they had so often
      said that it was invincible, that every one among the public expected a
      series of crushing victories.
    </p>
    <p>
      Alas! the first telegram announced a defeat.&nbsp; People refused to
      believe it at first.&nbsp; But there was the evidence.&nbsp; The soldiers
      had died bravely; but the chiefs had been incapable of leading them.
    </p>
    <p>
      From that time, and with a vertiginous rapidity, from day to day, from
      hour to hour, the fatal news came crowding on.&nbsp; Like a river that
      overflows its banks, Prussia was overrunning France.&nbsp; Bazaine was
      surrounded at Metz; and the capitulation of Sedan capped the climax of so
      many disasters.
    </p>
    <p>
      At last, on the 4th of September, the republic was proclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 5th, when the Signor Gismondo Pulei presented himself at Rue St.
      Gilles, his face bore such an expression of anguish, that Mlle. Gilberte
      could not help asking what was the matter.
    </p>
    <p>
      He rose on that question, and, threatening heaven with his clinched fist,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Implacable fate does not tire to persecute me,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I had overcome all obstacles:&nbsp; I was happy:&nbsp; I was
      looking forward to a future of fortune and glory.&nbsp; No, the dreadful
      war must break out.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For the worthy maestro, this terrible catastrophe was but a new caprice of
      his own destiny.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What has happened to you?&#8221; inquired the young girl,
      repressing a smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It happens to me, signora, that I am about to lose my beloved
      pupil.&nbsp; He leaves me; he forsakes me.&nbsp; In vain have I thrown
      myself at his feet.&nbsp; My tears have not been able to detain him.&nbsp;
      He is going to fight; he leaves; he is a soldier!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then it was given to Mlle. Gilberte to see clearly within her soul.&nbsp;
      Then she understood how absolutely she had given herself up, and to what
      extent she had ceased to belong to herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her sensation was terrible, such as if her whole blood had suddenly
      escaped through her open arteries.&nbsp; She turned pale, her teeth
      chattered; and she seemed so near fainting, that the Signor Gismondo
      sprang to the door, crying, &#8220;Help, help! she is dying.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral, frightened, came running in.&nbsp; But already, thanks to an
      all-powerful projection of will, Mlle. Gilberte had recovered, and,
      smiling a pale smile,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s nothing, mamma,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;A sudden pain in
      the head; but it&rsquo;s gone already.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The worthy maestro was in perfect agony.&nbsp; Taking Mme. Favoral aside,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is my fault,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;It is the story of my
      unheard-of misfortunes that has upset her thus.&nbsp; Monstrous egotist
      that I am!&nbsp; I should have been careful of her exquisite sensibility.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She insisted, nevertheless, upon taking her lesson as usual, and recovered
      enough presence of mind to extract from the Signor Gismondo everything
      that his much-regretted pupil had confided to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      That was not much.&nbsp; He knew that his pupil had gone, like anyone
      else, to Rue de Cherche Midi; that he had signed an engagement; and had
      been ordered to join a regiment in process of formation near Tours.&nbsp;
      And, as he went out,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is nothing,&#8221; said the kind maestro to Mme. Favoral.&nbsp;
      &#8220;The signora has quite recovered, and is as gay as a lark.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The signora, shut up in her room, was shedding bitter tears.&nbsp; She
      tried to reason with herself, and could not succeed.&nbsp; Never had the
      strangeness of her situation so clearly appeared to her.&nbsp; She
      repeated to herself that she must be mad to have thus become attached to a
      stranger.&nbsp; She wondered how she could have allowed that love, which
      was now her very life, to take possession of her soul.&nbsp; But to what
      end?&nbsp; It no longer rested with her to undo what had been done.
    </p>
    <p>
      When she thought that Marius de Tregars was about to leave Paris to become
      a soldier, to fight, to die perhaps, she felt her head whirl; she saw
      nothing around her but despair and chaos.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, the more she thought, the more certain she felt that Marius could not
      have trusted solely to the chance gossip of the Signor Pulei to
      communicate to her his determination.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is perfectly inadmissible,&#8221; she thought.&nbsp; &#8220;It
      is impossible that he will not make an effort to see me before going.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Thoroughly imbued with the idea, she wiped her eyes, took a seat by an
      open window; and, whilst apparently busy with her work, she concentrated
      her whole attention upon the street.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were more people out than usual.&nbsp; The recent events had stirred
      Paris to its lowest depths, and, as from the crater of a volcano in labor,
      all the social scoriae rose to the surface.&nbsp; Men of sinister
      appearance left their haunts, and wandered through the city.&nbsp; The
      workshops were all deserted; and people strolled at random, stupor or
      terror painted on their countenance.&nbsp; But in vain did Mlle. Gilberte
      seek in all this crowd the one she hoped to see.&nbsp; The hours went by,
      and she was getting discouraged, when suddenly, towards dusk, at the
      corner of the Rue Turenne,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&lsquo;Tis he,&#8221; cried a voice within her.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was, in fact, M. de Tregars.&nbsp; He was walking towards the
      Boulevard, slowly, and his eyes raised.
    </p>
    <p>
      Palpitating, the girl rose to her feet.&nbsp; She was in one of those
      moments of crisis when the blood, rushing to the brain, smothers all
      judgment.&nbsp; Unconscious, as it were, of her acts, she leaned over the
      window, and made a sign to Marius, which he understood very well, and
      which meant, &#8220;Wait, I am coming down.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where are you going, dear?&#8221; asked Mme. Favoral, seeing
      Gilberte putting on her bonnet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To the shop, mamma, to get a shade of worsted I need.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte was not in the habit of going out alone; but it happened
      quite often that she would go down in the neighborhood on some little
      errand.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you wish the girl to go out with you?&#8221; asked Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, it isn&rsquo;t worth while!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She ran down the stairs; and once out, regardless of the looks that might
      be watching her, she walked straight to M. de Tregars, who was waiting on
      the corner of the Rue des Minimes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are going away?&#8221; she said, too much agitated to notice
      his own emotion, which was, however, quite evident.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must,&#8221; he answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When France is invaded, the place for a man who bears my name is
      where the fighting is.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But there will be fighting in Paris too.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Paris has four times as many defenders as it needs.&nbsp; It is
      outside that soldiers will be wanted.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They walked slowly, as they spoke thus, along the Rue des Minimes, one of
      the least frequented in Paris; and there were only to be seen at this hour
      five or six soldiers talking in front of the barracks gate.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Suppose I were to beg you not to go,&#8221; resumed Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Suppose I beseeched you, Marius!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I should remain then,&#8221; he answered in a troubled voice;
      &#8220;but I would be betraying my duty, and failing to my honor; and
      remorse would weigh upon our whole life.&nbsp; Command now, and I will
      obey.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They had stopped; and no one seeing them standing there side by side
      affectionate and familiar could have believed that they were speaking to
      each other for the first time.&nbsp; They themselves did not notice it, so
      much had they come, with the help of all-powerful imagination, and in
      spite of separation, to the understanding of intimacy.&nbsp; After a
      moment of painful reflection,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not ask you any longer to stay,&#8221; uttered the young girl.&nbsp;
      He took her hand, and raised it to his lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I expected no less of your courage,&#8221; he said, his voice
      vibrating with love.&nbsp; But he controlled himself, and, in a more quiet
      tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thanks to the indiscretion of Pulei,&#8221; he added, &#8220;I was
      in hopes of seeing you, but not to have the happiness of speaking to you.&nbsp;
      I had written&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He drew from his pocket a large envelope, and, handing it to Mlle.
      Gilberte,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here is the letter,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;which I intended
      for you.&nbsp; It contains another, which I beg you to preserve carefully,
      and not to open unless I do not return.&nbsp; I leave you in Paris a
      devoted friend, the Count de Villegre.&nbsp; Whatever may happen to you,
      apply to him with all confidence, as you would to myself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte, staggering, leaned against the wall.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When do you expect to leave?&#8221; she inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This very night.&nbsp; Communications may be cut off at any moment.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Admirable in her sorrow, but also full of energy, the poor girl looked up,
      and held out her hand to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go then,&#8221; she said, &#8220;O my only friend! go, since honor
      commands.&nbsp; But do not forget that it is not your life alone that you
      are going to risk.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, fearing to burst into sobs, she fled, and reached the Rue St. Gilles
      a few moments before her father, who had gone out in quest of news.
    </p>
    <p>
      Those he brought home were of the most sinister kind.
    </p>
    <p>
      Like the rising tide, the Prussians spread and advanced, slowly, but
      steadily.&nbsp; Their marches were numbered; and the day and hour could be
      named when their flood would come and strike the walls of Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so, at all the railroad stations, there was a prodigious rush of
      people who wished to leave at any cost, in any way, in the baggage-car if
      needs be, and who certainly were not, like Marius, rushing to meet the
      enemy.
    </p>
    <p>
      One after another, M. Favoral had seen nearly every one he knew take
      flight.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Baron and Baroness de Thaller and their daughter had gone to
      Switzerland; M. Costeclar was traveling in Belgium; the elder Jottras was
      in England, buying guns and cartridge; and if the younger Jottras, with M.
      Saint Pavin of &#8220;The Financial Pilot,&#8221; remained in Paris, it
      was because, through the gallant influence of a lady whose name was not
      mentioned, they had obtained some valuable contracts from the government.
    </p>
    <p>
      The perplexities of the cashier of the Mutual Credit were great.&nbsp; The
      day that the Baron and the Baroness de Thaller had left,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Pack up our trunks,&#8221; he ordered his wife.&nbsp; &#8220;The
      bourse is going to close; and the Mutual Credit can very well get along
      without me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the next day he became undecided again.&nbsp; What Mlle. Gilberte
      thought she could guess, was, that he was dying to start alone, and leave
      his family, but dared not do it.&nbsp; He hesitated so long, that at last,
      one evening,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You may unpack the trunks,&#8221; he said to his wife.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Paris is invested; and no one can now leave.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XVIII
    </h2>
    <p>
      In fact, the news had just come, that the Western Railroad, the last one
      that had remained open, was now cut off.
    </p>
    <p>
      Paris was invested; and so rapid had been the investment, that it could
      hardly be believed.
    </p>
    <p>
      People went in crowds on all the culminating points, the hills of
      Montmartre, and the heights of the Trocadero.&nbsp; Telescopes had been
      erected there; and every one was anxious to scan the horizon, and look for
      the Prussians.
    </p>
    <p>
      But nothing could be discovered.&nbsp; The distant fields retained their
      quiet and smiling aspect under the mild rays of the autumn sun.
    </p>
    <p>
      So that it really required quite an effort of imagination to realize the
      sinister fact, to understand that Paris, with its two millions of
      inhabitants, was indeed cut off from the world and separated from the rest
      of France, by an insurmountable circle of steel.
    </p>
    <p>
      Doubt, and something like a vague hope, could be traced in the tone of the
      people who met on the streets, saying,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, it&rsquo;s all over:&nbsp; we can&rsquo;t leave any more.&nbsp; Letters,
      even, cannot pass.&nbsp; No more news, eh?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the next day, which was the 19th of September, the most incredulous
      were convinced.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time Paris shuddered at the hoarse voice of the cannon,
      thundering on the heights of Chatillon.&nbsp; The siege of Paris, that
      siege without example in history, had commenced.
    </p>
    <p>
      The life of the Favorals during these interminable days of anguish and
      suffering, was that of a hundred thousand other families.
    </p>
    <p>
      Incorporated in the battalion of his ward, the cashier of the Mutual
      Credit went off two or three times a week, as well as all his neighbors,
      to mount guard on the ramparts,&#8212;a useless service perhaps, but which
      those that performed it did not look upon as such, &#8212;a very arduous
      service, at any rate, for poor merchants, accustomed to the comforts of
      their shops, or the quiet of their offices.
    </p>
    <p>
      To be sure, there was nothing heroic in tramping through the mud, in
      receiving the rain or the snow upon the back, in sleeping on the ground or
      on dirty straw, in remaining on guard with the thermometer twenty degrees
      below the freezing-point.&nbsp; But people die of pleurisy quite as
      certainly as of a Prussian bullet; and many died of it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence showed himself but rarely at Rue St. Gilles:&nbsp; enlisted in a
      battalion of sharpshooters, he did duty at the advanced posts.&nbsp; And,
      as to Mme. Favoral and Mlle. Gilberte, they spent the day trying to get
      something to live on.&nbsp; Rising before daylight, through rain or snow,
      they took their stand before the butcher&rsquo;s stall, and, after waiting for
      hours, received a small slice of horse-meat.
    </p>
    <p>
      Alone in the evening, by the side of the hearth where a few pieces of
      green wood smoked without burning, they started at each of the distant
      reports of the cannon.&nbsp; At each detonation that shook the
      window-panes, Mme. Favoral thought that it was, perhaps, the one that had
      killed her son.
    </p>
    <p>
      And Mlle. Gilberte was thinking of Marius de Tregars.&nbsp; The accursed
      days of November and December had come.&nbsp; There were constant rumors
      of bloody battles around Orleans.&nbsp; She imagined Marius, mortally
      wounded, expiring on the snow, alone, without help, and without a friend
      to receive his supreme will and his last breath.
    </p>
    <p>
      One evening the vision was so clear, and the impression so strong, that
      she started up with a loud cry.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is it?&#8221; asked Mme. Favoral, alarmed.&nbsp; &#8220;What
      is the matter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a little perspicacity, the worthy woman could easily have obtained
      her daughter&rsquo;s secret; for Mlle. Gilberte was not in condition to deny
      anything.&nbsp; But she contented herself with an explanation which meant
      nothing, and had not a suspicion, when the girl answered with a forced
      smile,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s nothing, dear mother, nothing but an absurd idea that crossed
      my mind.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Strange to say, never had the cashier of the Mutual Credit been for his
      family what he was during these months of trials.
    </p>
    <p>
      During the first weeks of the siege he had been anxious, agitated,
      nervous; he wandered through the house like a soul in trouble; he had
      moments of inconceivable prostration, during which tears could be seen
      rolling down upon his cheeks, and then fits of anger without motive.
    </p>
    <p>
      But each day that elapsed had seemed to bring calm to his soul.&nbsp;
      Little by little, he had become to his wife so indulgent and so
      affectionate, that the poor helot felt her heart touched.&nbsp; He had for
      his daughter attentions which caused her to wonder.
    </p>
    <p>
      Often, when the weather was fine, he took them out walking, leading them
      along the quays towards a part of the walls occupied by the battalion of
      their ward.&nbsp; Twice he took them to St. Onen, where the sharp-shooters
      were encamped to which Maxence belonged.
    </p>
    <p>
      Another day he wished to take them to visit M. de Thaller&rsquo;s house, of
      which he had charge.&nbsp; They refused, and instead of getting angry, as
      he certainly would have done formerly, he commenced describing to them the
      splendors of the apartments, the magnificent furniture, the carpets and
      the hangings, the paintings by the great masters, the objects of arts, the
      bronzes, in a word, all that dazzling luxury of which financiers make use,
      somewhat as hunters do of the mirror with which larks are caught.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of business, nothing was ever said.
    </p>
    <p>
      He went every morning as far as the office of the Mutual Credit; but, as
      he said, it was solely as a matter of form.&nbsp; Once in a long while, M.
      Saint Pavin and the younger Jottras paid a visit to the Rue St. Gilles.&nbsp;
      They had suspended,&#8212;the one the payments of his banking house; the
      other, the publication of &#8220;The Financial Pilot.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But they were not idle for all that; and, in the midst of the public
      distress, they still managed to speculate upon something, no one knew
      what, and to realize profits.
    </p>
    <p>
      They rallied pleasantly the fools who had faith in the defence, and
      imitated in the most laughable manner the appearance, under their
      soldier&rsquo;s coat, of three or four of their friends who had joined the
      marching battalions.&nbsp; They boasted that they had no privations to
      endure, and always knew where to find the fresh butter wherewith to dress
      the large slices of beef which they possessed the art of finding.&nbsp;
      Mme. Favoral heard them laugh; and M. Saint Pavin, the manager of &#8220;The
      Financial Pilot,&#8221; exclaimed,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, come! we would be fools to complain.&nbsp; It is a general
      liquidation, without risks and without costs.&#8221;&nbsp; Their mirth had
      something revolting in it; for it was now the last and most acute period
      of the siege.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the beginning, the greatest optimists hardly thought that Paris could
      hold out longer than six weeks.&nbsp; And now the investment had lasted
      over four months.&nbsp; The population was reduced to nameless articles of
      food.&nbsp; The supply of bread had failed; the wounded, for lack of a
      little soup, died in the ambulances; old people and children perished by
      the hundred; on the left bank the shells came down thick and fast, the
      weather was intensely cold, and there was no more fuel.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet no one complained.&nbsp; From the midst of that population of two
      millions of inhabitants, not one voice rose to beg for their comfort,
      their health, their life even, at the cost of a capitulation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Clear-sighted men had never hoped that Paris alone could compel the
      raising of the siege; but they thought, that by holding out, and keeping
      the Prussians under its walls, Paris would give to France time to rise, to
      organize armies, and to rush upon the enemy.&nbsp; There was the duty of
      Paris; and Paris was toiling to fulfil it to the utmost limits of
      possibility, reckoning as a victory each day that it gained.
    </p>
    <p>
      Unfortunately, all this suffering was to be in vain.&nbsp; The fatal hour
      struck, when, supplies being exhausted, it became necessary to surrender.&nbsp;
      During three days the Prussians camped in the Champs Elysees, gazing with
      longing eyes upon that city, object of their most eager desires,&#8212;that
      Paris within which, victorious though they were, they had not dared to
      venture.&nbsp; Then, soon after, communications were reopened; and one
      morning, as he received a letter from Switzerland,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is from the Baron de Thaller!&#8221; exclaimed M. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Exactly so.&nbsp; The manager of the Mutual Credit was a prudent man.&nbsp;
      Pleasantly situated in Switzerland, he was in nowise anxious to return to
      Paris before being quite certain that he had no risks to run.
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon receiving M. Favoral&rsquo;s assurances to that effect, he started; and,
      almost at the same time the elder Jottras and M. Costeclar made their
      appearance.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XIX
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was a curious spectacle, the return of those braves for whom Parisian
      slang had invented the new and significant expression of <i>franc-fileur</i>.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were not so proud then as they have been since.&nbsp; Feeling rather
      embarrassed in the midst of a population still quivering with the emotions
      of the siege, they had at least the good taste to try and find pretexts
      for their absence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was cut off,&#8221; affirmed the Baron de Thaller.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      had gone to Switzerland to place my wife and daughter in safety.&nbsp;
      When I came back, good-by! the Prussians had closed the doors.&nbsp; For
      more than a week, I wandered around Paris, trying to find an opening.&nbsp;
      I became suspected of being a spy.&nbsp; I was arrested.&nbsp; A little
      more, and I was shot dead!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As to myself,&#8221; declared M. Costeclar, &#8220;I foresaw
      exactly what has happened.&nbsp; I knew that it was outside, to organize
      armies of relief, that men would be wanted.&nbsp; I went to offer my
      services to the government of defence; and everybody in Bordeaux saw me
      booted and spurred, and ready to leave.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was consequently soliciting the Cross of the Legion of Honor, and was
      not without hopes of obtaining it through the all-powerful influence of
      his financial connections.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Didn&rsquo;t So-and-so get it?&#8221; he replied to objections.&nbsp; And
      he named this or that individual whose feats of arms consisted principally
      in having exhibited themselves in uniforms covered with gold lace to the
      very shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I am the man who deserves it most, that cross,&#8221; insisted
      the younger M. Jottras; &#8220;for I, at least, have rendered valuable
      services.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he went on telling how, after searching for arms all over England, he
      had sailed for New York, where he had purchased any number of guns and
      cartridges, and even some batteries of artillery.
    </p>
    <p>
      This last journey had been very wearisome to him, he added and yet he did
      not regret it; for it had furnished him an opportunity to study on the
      spot the financial morals of America; and he had returned with ideas
      enough to make the fortune of three or four stock companies with twenty
      millions of capital.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, those Americans!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;They are the
      men who understand business!&nbsp; We are but children by the side of
      them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was through M. Chapelain, the Desclavettes, and old Desormeaux, that
      these news reached the Rue St. Gilles.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was also through Maxence, whose battalion had been dissolved, and who,
      whilst waiting for something better, had accepted a clerkship in the
      office of the Orleans Railway, where he earned two hundred francs a month.&nbsp;
      For M. Favoral saw and heard nothing that was going on around him.&nbsp;
      He was wholly absorbed in his business:&nbsp; he left earlier, came home
      later, and hardly allowed himself time to eat and drink.
    </p>
    <p>
      He told all his friends that business was looking up again in the most
      unexpected manner; that there were fortunes to be made by those who could
      command ready cash; and that it was necessary to make up for lost time.
    </p>
    <p>
      He pretended that the enormous indemnity to be paid to the Prussians would
      necessitate an enormous movement of capital, financial combinations, a
      loan, and that so many millions could not be handled without allowing a
      few little millions to fall into intelligent pockets.
    </p>
    <p>
      Dazzled by the mere enumeration of those fabulous sums, &#8220;I should
      not be a bit surprised,&#8221; said the others, &#8220;to see Favoral
      double and treble his fortune.&nbsp; What a famous match his daughter will
      be!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Alas! never had Mlle. Gilberte felt in her heart so much hatred and
      disgust for that money, the only thought, the sole subject of
      conversation, of those around her,&#8212;for that cursed money which had
      risen like an insurmountable obstacle between Marius and herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      For two weeks past, the communications had been completely restored; and
      there was as yet no sign of M. de Tregars.&nbsp; It was with the most
      violent palpitations of her heart that she awaited each day the hour of
      the Signor Gismondo Pulei&rsquo;s lesson:&nbsp; and more painful each time
      became her anguish when she heard him exclaim,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing, not a line, not a word.&nbsp; The pupil has forgotten his
      old master!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mlle. Gilberte knew well that Marius did not forget.&nbsp; Her blood
      froze in her veins when she read in the papers the interminable list of
      those poor soldiers who had succumbed during the invasion, &#8212;the more
      fortunate ones under Prussian bullets; the others along the roads, in the
      mud or in the snow, of cold, of fatigue, of suffering and of want.
    </p>
    <p>
      She could not drive from her mind the memory of that lugubrious vision
      which had so much frightened her; and she was asking herself whether it
      was not one of those inexplicable presentiments, of which there are
      examples, which announce the death of a beloved person.
    </p>
    <p>
      Alone at night in her little room, Mlle. Gilberte withdrew from the
      hiding-place, where she kept it preciously, that package which Marius had
      confided to her, recommending her not to open it until she was sure that
      he would not return.&nbsp; It was very voluminous, enclosed in an envelope
      of thick paper, sealed with red wax, bearing the arms of Tregars; and she
      had often wondered what it could possibly contain.&nbsp; And now she
      shuddered at the thought that she had perhaps the right to open it.
    </p>
    <p>
      And she had no one of whom she could ask for a word of hope.&nbsp; She was
      compelled to hide her tears, and to put on a smile.&nbsp; She was
      compelled to invent pretexts for those who expressed their wonder at
      seeing her exquisite beauty withering in the bud,&#8212;for her mother,
      whose anxiety was without limit, when she saw her thus pale, her eyes
      inflamed, and undermined by a continuous fever.
    </p>
    <p>
      True, Marius, on leaving, had left her a friend, the Count de Villegre;
      and, if any one knew any thing, he certainly did.&nbsp; But she could see
      no way of hearing from him without risking her secret.&nbsp; Write to him?&nbsp;
      Nothing was easier, since she had his address,&#8212;Rue Turenne.&nbsp;
      But where could she ask him to direct his answer?&nbsp; Rue St. Gilles?&nbsp;
      Impossible!&nbsp; True, she might go to him, or make an appointment in the
      neighborhood.&nbsp; But how could she escape, even for an hour, without
      exciting Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s suspicions?
    </p>
    <p>
      Sometimes it occurred to her to confide in Maxence, who was laboring with
      admirable constancy to redeem his past.
    </p>
    <p>
      But what! must she, then, confess the truth,&#8212;confess that she,
      Gilberte, had lent her ears to the words of a stranger, met by chance in
      the street, and that she looked forward to no happiness in life save
      through him?&nbsp; She dared not.&nbsp; She could not take upon herself to
      overcome the shame of such a situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was on the verge of despair, the day when the Signor Pulei arrived
      radiant, exclaiming from the very threshold, &#8220;I have news!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And at once, without surprise at the awful emotion of the girl, which he
      attributed solely to the interest she felt for him,&#8212;him Gismondo
      Pulei, he went on,&#8212;&#8220;I did not get them direct, but through a
      respectable signor with long mustaches, and a red ribbon at his
      buttonhole, who, having received a letter from my dear pupil, has deigned
      to come to my room, and read it to me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The worthy maestro had not forgotten a single word of that letter; and it
      was almost literally that he repeated it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Six weeks after having enlisted, his pupil had been promoted corporal,
      then sergeant, then lieutenant.&nbsp; He had fought in all the battles of
      the army of the Loire without receiving a scratch.&nbsp; But at the battle
      of the Maus, whilst leading back his men, who were giving way, he had been
      shot twice, full in the breast.&nbsp; Carried dying into an ambulance, he
      had lingered three weeks between life and death, having lost all
      consciousness of self.&nbsp; Twenty-four hours after, he had recovered his
      senses; and he took the first opportunity to recall himself to the
      affection of his friends.&nbsp; All danger was over, he suffered scarcely
      any more; and they promised him, that, within a month, he would be up, and
      able to return to Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time in many weeks Mlle. Gilberte breathed freely.&nbsp; But
      she would have been greatly surprised, had she been told that a day was
      drawing near when she would bless those wounds which detained Marius upon
      a hospital cot.&nbsp; And yet it was so.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral and her daughter were alone, one evening, at the house, when
      loud clamors arose from the street, in the midst of which could be heard
      drunken voices yelling the refrains of revolutionary songs, accompanied by
      continuous rumbling sounds.&nbsp; They ran to the window.&nbsp; The
      National Guards had just taken possession of the cannon deposited in the
      Place Royale.&nbsp; The reign of the Commune was commencing.
    </p>
    <p>
      In less than forty-eight hours, people came to regret the worst days of
      the siege.&nbsp; Without leaders, without direction, the honest men had
      lost their heads.&nbsp; All the braves who had returned at the time of the
      armistice had again taken flight.&nbsp; Soon people had to hide or to fly
      to avoid being incorporated in the battalions of the Commune.&nbsp; Night
      and day, around the walls, the fusillade rattled, and the artillery
      thundered.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again M. Favoral had given up going to his office.&nbsp; What&rsquo;s the use?&nbsp;
      Sometimes, with a singular look, he would say to his wife and children,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This time it is indeed a liquidation.&nbsp; Paris is lost!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And indeed they thought so, when at the hour of the supreme struggle,
      among the detonations of the cannon and the explosion of the shells; they
      felt their house shaking to its very foundations; when in the midst of the
      night they saw their apartment as brilliantly lighted as at mid-day by the
      flames which were consuming the Hotel de Ville and the houses around the
      Place de la Bastille.&nbsp; And, in fact, the rapid action of the troops
      alone saved Paris from destruction.
    </p>
    <p>
      But towards the end of the following week, matters had commenced to quiet
      down; and Gilberte learned the return of Marius.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XX
    </h2>
    <p>
      &#8220;At last it has been given to my eyes to contemplate him, and to my
      arms to press him against my heart!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was in these terms that the old Italian master, all vibrating with
      enthusiasm, and with his most terrible accent, announced to Mlle. Gilberte
      that he had just seen that famous pupil from whom he expected both glory
      and fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But how weak he is still!&#8221; he added, &#8220;and suffering
      from his wounds.&nbsp; I hardly recognized him, he has grown so pale and
      so thin.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the girl was listening to him no more.&nbsp; A flood of life filled
      her heart.&nbsp; This moment made her forget all her troubles and all her
      anguish.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I too,&#8221; thought she, &#8220;shall see him again to-day.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, with the unerring instinct of the woman who loves, she calculated the
      moment when Marius would appear in Rue St. Gilles.&nbsp; It would probably
      be about nightfall, like the first time, before leaving; that is, about
      eight o&rsquo;clock, for the days just then were about the longest in the year.&nbsp;
      Now it so happened, that, on that very day and hour, Mlle. Gilberte
      expected to be alone at home.&nbsp; It was understood that her mother
      would, after dinner, call on Mme. Desclavettes, who was in bed, half dead
      of the fright she had had during the last convulsions of the Commune.&nbsp;
      She would therefore be free and would not need to invent a pretext to go
      out for a few moments.&nbsp; She could not help, however, but feel that
      this was a bold and most venturesome step for her to take; and, when her
      mother went out, she had not yet fully decided what to do.&nbsp; But her
      bonnet was within reach, and Marius&rsquo; letter was in her pocket.&nbsp; She
      went to sit at the window.&nbsp; The street was solitary and silent as of
      old.&nbsp; Night was coming; and heavy black clouds floated over Paris.&nbsp;
      The heat was overpowering:&nbsp; there was not a breath of air.
    </p>
    <p>
      One by one, as the hour was approaching when she expected to see Marius,
      the hesitations of the young girl vanished like smoke.&nbsp; She feared
      but one thing,&#8212;that he would not come, or that he may already have
      come and left, without succeeding in seeing her.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already did the objects become less distinct; and the gas was being lit in
      the back-shops, when she recognized him on the other side of the street.&nbsp;
      He looked up as he went by; and, without stopping, he addressed her a
      rapid gesture, which she alone could understand, and which meant, &#8220;Come,
      I beseech you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her heart beating loud enough to be heard, Mlle. Gilberte ran down the
      stairs.&nbsp; But it was only when she found herself in the street that
      she could appreciate the magnitude of the risk she was running.&nbsp;
      Concierges and shopkeepers were all sitting in front of their doors,
      taking the fresh air.&nbsp; All knew her.&nbsp; Would they not be
      surprised to see her out alone at such an hour?&nbsp; Twenty steps in
      front of her she could see Marius.&nbsp; But he had understood the danger;
      for, instead of turning the corner of the Rue des Minimes, he followed the
      Rue St. Gilles straight, and only stopped on the other side of the
      Boulevard.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then only did Mlle. Gilberte join him; and she could not withhold an
      exclamation, when she saw that he was as pale as death, and scarcely able
      to stand and to walk.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How imprudent of you to have returned so soon!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      A little blood came to M. de Tregars&rsquo; cheeks.&nbsp; His face brightened
      up, and, in a voice quivering with suppressed passion,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It would have been more imprudent still to stay away,&#8221; he
      uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;Far from you, I felt myself dying.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They were both leaning against the door of a closed shop; and they were as
      alone in the midst of the throng that circulated on the Boulevards, busy
      looking at the fearful wrecks of the Commune.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And besides,&#8221; added Marius, &#8220;have I, then, a minute to
      lose?&nbsp; I asked you for three years.&nbsp; Fifteen months have gone,
      and I am no better off than on the first day.&nbsp; When this accursed war
      broke out, all my arrangements were made.&nbsp; I was certain to rapidly
      accumulate a sufficient fortune to enable me to ask for your hand without
      being refused.&nbsp; Whereas now&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now every thing is changed.&nbsp; The future is so uncertain, that
      no one wishes to venture their capital.&nbsp; Marcolet himself, who
      certainly does not lack boldness, and who believes firmly in the success
      of our enterprise, was telling me yesterday, &#8216;There is nothing to be
      done just now:&nbsp; we must wait.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was in his voice such an intensity of grief, that the girl felt the
      tears coming to her eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We will wait then,&#8221; she said, attempting to smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it possible?&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Do you, then, think
      that I do not know what a life you lead?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte looked up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have I ever complained?&#8221; she asked proudly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No.&nbsp; Your mother and yourself, you have always religiously
      kept the secret of your tortures; and it was only a providential accident
      that revealed them to me.&nbsp; But I learned every thing at last.&nbsp; I
      know that she whom I love exclusively and with all the power of my soul is
      subjected to the most odious despotism, insulted, and condemned to the
      most humiliating privations.&nbsp; And I, who would give my life for her a
      thousand times over,&#8212;I can do nothing for her.&nbsp; Money raises
      between us such an insuperable obstacle, that my love is actually an
      offence.&nbsp; To hear from her, I am driven to accept accomplices.&nbsp;
      If I obtain from her a few moments of conversation, I run the risk of
      compromising her maidenly reputation.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Deeply affected by his emotion:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At least,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte, &#8220;you succeeded in
      delivering me from M. Costeclar.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I was fortunately able to find weapons against that scoundrel.&nbsp;
      But can I find some against all others that may offer?&nbsp; Your father
      is very rich; and the men are numerous for whom marriage is but a
      speculation like any other.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would you doubt me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, rather would I doubt myself!&nbsp; But I know what cruel trials
      your refusal to marry M. Costeclar imposed upon you:&nbsp; I know what a
      merciless struggle you had to sustain.&nbsp; Another pretender may come,
      and then&#8212;No, no, you see that we cannot wait.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What would you do?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know not.&nbsp; I have not yet decided upon my future course.&nbsp;
      And yet Heaven knows what have been the labors of my mind during that long
      month I have just spent upon an ambulance-bed, that month during which you
      were my only thought.&nbsp; Ah! when I think of it, I cannot find words to
      curse the recklessness with which I disposed of my fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      As if she had heard a blasphemy, the young girl drew back a step.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is impossible,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;that you should
      regret having paid what your father owed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A bitter smile contracted M. de Tregars&rsquo; lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose I were to tell you,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;that my
      father in reality owed nothing?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Suppose I told you they took from him his entire fortune, over two
      millions, as audaciously as a pick-pocket robs a man of his handkerchief?&nbsp;
      Suppose I told you, that, in his loyal simplicity, he was but a man of
      straw in the hands of skillful knaves?&nbsp; Have you forgotten what you
      once heard the Count de Villegre say?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte had forgotten nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Count de Villegre,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;pretended that it
      was time enough still to compel the men who had robbed your father to
      disgorge.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Exactly!&#8221; exclaimed Marius.&nbsp; &#8220;And now I am
      determined to make them disgorge.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In the mean time night had quite come.&nbsp; Lights appeared in the
      shop-windows; and along the line of the Boulevard the gas-lamps were being
      lit.&nbsp; Alarmed by this sudden illumination, M. de Tregars drew off
      Mlle. Gilberte to a more obscure spot, by the stairs that lead to the Rue
      Amelot; and there, leaning against the iron railing, he went on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Already, at the time of my father&rsquo;s death, I suspected the
      abominable tricks of which he was the victim.&nbsp; I thought it unworthy
      of me to verify my suspicions.&nbsp; I was alone in the world:&nbsp; my
      wants were few.&nbsp; I was fully convinced that my researches would give
      me, within a brief time, a much larger fortune than the one I gave up.&nbsp;
      I found something noble and grand, and which flattered my vanity, in thus
      abandoning every thing, without discussion, without litigation, and
      consummating my ruin with a single dash of my pen.&nbsp; Among my friends
      the Count de Villegre alone had the courage to tell me that this was a
      guilty piece of folly; that the silence of the dupes is the strength of
      the knaves; that my indifference, which made the rascals rich, would make
      them laugh too.&nbsp; I replied that I did not wish to see the name of
      Tregars dragged into court in a scandalous law-suit, and that to preserve
      a dignified silence was to honor my father&rsquo;s memory.&nbsp; Treble fool
      that I was!&nbsp; The only way to honor my father&rsquo;s memory was to avenge
      him, to wrest his spoils from the scoundrels who had caused his death.&nbsp;
      I see it clearly to-day.&nbsp; But, before undertaking any thing, I wished
      to consult you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte was listening with the most intense attention.&nbsp; She
      had come to mingle so completely in her thoughts her future life and that
      of M. de Tregars, that she saw nothing unusual in the fact of his
      consulting her upon matters affecting their prospects, and of seeing
      herself standing there deliberating with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will require proofs,&#8221; she suggested.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have none, unfortunately,&#8221; replied M. de Tregars; &#8220;at
      least, none sufficiently positive, and such as are required by courts of
      justice.&nbsp; But I think I may find them.&nbsp; My former suspicions
      have become a certainty.&nbsp; The same good luck that enabled me to
      deliver you of M. Costeclar&rsquo;s persecutions, also placed in my hands the
      most valuable information.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you must act,&#8221; uttered Mlle. Gilberte resolutely.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius hesitated for a moment, as if seeking expression to convey what he
      had still to say.&nbsp; Then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is my duty,&#8221; he proceeded, &#8220;to conceal nothing from
      you.&nbsp; The task is a heavy one.&nbsp; The obscure schemers of ten
      years ago have become big financiers, intrenched behind their money-bags
      as behind an impregnable fort.&nbsp; Formerly isolated, they have managed
      to gather around them powerful interests, accomplices high in office, and
      friends whose commanding situation protects them.&nbsp; Having succeeded,
      they are absolved.&nbsp; They have in their favor what is called public
      consideration,&#8212;that idiotic thing which is made up of the admiration
      of the fools, the approbation of the knaves, and the concert of all
      interested vanities.&nbsp; When they pass, their horses at full trot,
      their carriage raising a cloud of dust, insolent, impudent, swelled with
      the vulgar fatuity of wealth, people bow to the ground, and say, &#8216;Those
      are smart fellows!&#8217;&nbsp; And in fact, yes, by skill or luck, they
      have hitherto avoided the police-courts where so many others have come to
      grief.&nbsp; Those who despise them fear them, and shake hands with them.&nbsp;
      Moreover, they are rich enough not to steal any more themselves.&nbsp;
      They have employes to do that.&nbsp; I take Heaven to witness that never
      until lately had the idea come to me to disturb in their possession the
      men who robbed my father.&nbsp; Alone, what need had I of money?&nbsp;
      Later, O my friend!&nbsp; I thought I could succeed in conquering the
      fortune I needed to obtain your hand.&nbsp; You had promised to wait; and
      I was happy to think that I should owe you to my sole exertions.&nbsp;
      Events have crushed my hopes.&nbsp; I am to-day compelled to acknowledge
      that all my efforts would be in vain.&nbsp; To wait would be to run the
      risk of losing you.&nbsp; Therefore I hesitate no longer.&nbsp; I want
      what&rsquo;s mine:&nbsp; I wish to recover that of which I have been robbed.&nbsp;
      Whatever I may do,&#8212;for, alas!&nbsp; I know not to what I may be
      driven, what role I may have to play,&#8212;remember that of all my acts,
      of all my thoughts, there will not be a single one that does not aim to
      bring nearer the blessed day when you shall become my wife.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was in his voice so much unspeakable affection, that the young girl
      could hardly restrain her tears.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never, whatever may happen, shall I doubt you, Marius,&#8221; she
      uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      He took her hands, and, pressing them passionately within his,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I,&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;I swear, that, sustained by the
      thought of you, there is no disgust that I will not overcome, no obstacle
      that I will not overthrow.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He spoke so loud, that two or three persons stopped.&nbsp; He noticed it,
      and was brought suddenly from sentiment to the reality,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Wretches that we are,&#8221; he said in a low voice, and very fast,
      &#8220;we forget what this interview may cost us!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he led Mlle. Gilberte across the Boulevard; and, whilst making their
      way to the Rue St. Gilles, through the deserted streets,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a dreadful imprudence we have just committed,&#8221; resumed
      M. de Tregars.&nbsp; &#8220;But it was indispensable that we should see
      each other; and we had not the choice of means.&nbsp; Now, and for a long
      time, we shall be separated.&nbsp; Every thing you wish me to know,&#8212;say
      it to that worthy Gismondo, who repeats faithfully to me every word you
      utter.&nbsp; Through him, also, you shall hear from me.&nbsp; Twice a
      week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, about nightfall, I shall pass by your
      house; and, if I am lucky enough to have a glimpse of you, I shall return
      home fired with fresh energy.&nbsp; Should any thing extraordinary happen,
      beckon to me, and I&rsquo;ll wait for you in the Rue des Minimes.&nbsp; But this
      is an expedient to which we must only resort in the last extremity.&nbsp;
      I should never forgive myself, were I to compromise your fair name.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They had reached the Rue St. Gilles.&nbsp; Marius stopped.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We must part,&#8221; he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      But then only Mlle. Gilberte remembered M. de Tregars&rsquo; letter, which she
      had in her pocket.&nbsp; Taking it out, and handing it to him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here,&#8221; she said, &#8220;is the package you deposited with me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No,&#8221; he answered, repelling her gently, &#8220;keep that
      letter:&nbsp; it must never be opened now, except by the Marquise de
      Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And raising her hand to his lips, and in a deeply agitated voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Farewell!&#8221; he murmured.&nbsp; &#8220;Have courage, and have
      hope.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXI
    </h2>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte was soon far away; and Marius de Tregars remained
      motionless at the corner of the street, following her with his eyes
      through the darkness.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was walking fast, staggering over the rough pavement.&nbsp; Leaving
      Marius, she fell back upon the earth from the height of her dreams.&nbsp;
      The deceiving illusion had vanished, and, returned to the world of sad
      reality, she was seized with anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      How long had she been out?&nbsp; She knew not, and found it impossible to
      reckon.&nbsp; But it was evidently getting late; for some of the shops
      were already closing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, she had reached the house.&nbsp; Stepping back, and looking up,
      she saw that there was light in the parlor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mother has returned,&#8221; she thought, trembling with
      apprehension.
    </p>
    <p>
      She hurried up, nevertheless; and, just as she reached the landing, Mme.
      Favoral opened the door, preparing to go down.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At last you are restored to me!&#8221; exclaimed the poor mother,
      whose sinister apprehensions were revealed by that single exclamation.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I was going out to look for you at random,&#8212;in the streets,
      anywhere.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, drawing her daughter within the parlor, she clasped her in her arms
      with convulsive tenderness, exclaiming,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where were you?&nbsp; Where do you come from?&nbsp; Do you know
      that it is after nine o&rsquo;clock?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Such had been Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s state of mind during the whole of that
      evening, that she had not even thought of finding a pretext to justify her
      absence.&nbsp; Now it was too late.&nbsp; Besides, what explanation would
      have been plausible?&nbsp; Instead, therefore, of answering,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, dear mother,&#8221; she said with a forced smile, &#8220;has
      it not happened to me twenty times to go out in the neighborhood?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s confiding credulity existed no longer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have been blind, Gilberte,&#8221; she interrupted; &#8220;but
      this time my eyes must open to evidence.&nbsp; There is in your life a
      mystery, something extraordinary, which I dare not try to guess.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte drew herself up, and, looking her mother straight in the
      eyes, with her beautiful, clear glance,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would you suspect me of something wrong, then?&#8221; she
      exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral stopped her with a gesture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A young girl who conceals something from her mother always does
      wrong,&#8221; she uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;It is a long while since I have
      had for the first time the presentiment that you were hiding something
      from me.&nbsp; But, when I questioned you, you succeeded in quieting my
      suspicions.&nbsp; You have abused my confidence and my weakness.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This reproach was the most cruel that could be addressed to Mlle.
      Gilberte.&nbsp; The blood rushed to her face, and, in a firm voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, yes,&#8221; said she:&nbsp; &#8220;I have a secret.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, if I did not confide it to you, it is because it is also the
      secret of another.&nbsp; Yes, I confess it, I have been imprudent in the
      extreme; I have stepped beyond all the limits of propriety and social
      custom; I have exposed myself to the worst calumnies.&nbsp; But never,&#8212;I
      swear it,&#8212;never have I done any thing of which my conscience can
      reproach me, nothing that I have to blush for, nothing that I regret,
      nothing that I am not ready to do again to-morrow.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I said nothing, &lsquo;tis true; but it was my duty.&nbsp; Alone I had to
      suffer the responsibility of my acts.&nbsp; Having alone freely engaged my
      future, I wished to bear alone the weight of my anxiety.&nbsp; I should
      never have forgiven myself for having added this new care to all your
      other sorrows.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral stood dismayed.&nbsp; Big tears rolled down her withered
      cheeks.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t you see, then,&#8221; she stammered, &#8220;that all my past
      suffering is as nothing compared to what I endure to-day?&nbsp; Good
      heavens! what have I ever done to deserve so many trials?&nbsp; Am I to be
      spared none of the troubles of this world?&nbsp; And it is through my own
      daughter that I am the most cruelly stricken!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This was more than Mlle. Gilberte could bear.&nbsp; Her heart was breaking
      at the sight of her mother&rsquo;s tears, that angel of meekness and
      resignation.&nbsp; Throwing her arms around her neck, and kissing her on
      the eyes,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mother,&#8221; she murmured, &#8220;adored mother, I beg of you do
      not weep thus!&nbsp; Speak to me!&nbsp; What do you wish me to do?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Gently the poor woman drew back.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Tell me the truth,&#8221; she answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      Was it not certain that this was the very thing she would ask; in fact,
      the only thing she could ask?&nbsp; Ah! how much would the young girl have
      preferred one of her father&rsquo;s violent scenes, and brutalities which would
      have exalted her energy, instead of crushing it!
    </p>
    <p>
      Attempting to gain time,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, yes,&#8221; she answered, &#8220;I&rsquo;ll tell you every thing,
      mother, but not now, to-morrow, later.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was about to yield, however, when her father&rsquo;s arrival cut short their
      conversation.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cashier of the Mutual Credit was quite lively that night.&nbsp; He was
      humming a tune, a thing which did not happen to him four times a year, and
      which was indicative of the most extreme satisfaction.&nbsp; But he
      stopped short at the sight of the disturbed countenance of his wife and
      daughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing,&#8221; hastily answered Mlle. Gilberte,&#8212;&#8220;nothing
      at all, father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you are crying for your amusement,&#8221; he said.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Come, be candid for once, and confess that Maxence has been at his
      tricks again!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are mistaken, father:&nbsp; I swear it!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He asked no further questions, being in his nature not very curious,
      whether because family matters were of so little consequence to him, or
      because he had a vague idea that his general behavior deprived him of all
      right to their confidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, then,&#8221; he said in a gruff tone, &#8220;let us all
      go to bed.&nbsp; I have worked so hard to-day, that I am quite exhausted.&nbsp;
      People who pretend that business is dull make me laugh.&nbsp; Never has M.
      de Thaller been in the way of making so much money as now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      When he spoke, they obeyed.&nbsp; So that Mlle. Gilberte was thus going to
      have the whole night before her to resume possession of herself, to pass
      over in her mind the events of the evening, and deliberate coolly upon the
      decision she must come to; for, she could not doubt it, Mme. Favoral
      would, the very next day, renew her questions.
    </p>
    <p>
      What should she say?&nbsp; All?&nbsp; Mlle. Gilberte felt disposed to do
      so by all the aspirations of her heart, by the certainty of indulgent
      complicity, by the thought of finding in a sympathetic soul the echo of
      her joys, of her troubles, and of her hopes.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yes.&nbsp; But Mme. Favoral was still the same woman, whose firmest
      resolutions vanished under the gaze of her husband.&nbsp; Let a pretender
      come; let a struggle begin, as in the case of M. Costeclar,&#8212;would
      she have strength enough to remain silent?&nbsp; No!
    </p>
    <p>
      Then it would be a fearful scene with M. Favoral.&nbsp; He might, perhaps,
      even go to M. de Tregars.&nbsp; What scandal!&nbsp; For he was a man who
      spared no one; and then a new obstacle would rise between them, more
      insurmountable still than the others.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte was thinking, too, of Marius&rsquo;s projects; of that terrible
      game he was about to play, the issue of which was to decide their fate.&nbsp;
      He had said enough to make her understand all its perils, and that a
      single indiscretion might suffice to set at nought the result of many
      months&rsquo; labor and patience.&nbsp; Besides, to speak, was it not to abuse
      Marius&rsquo;s confidence.&nbsp; How could she expect another to keep a secret
      she had been unable to keep herself?
    </p>
    <p>
      At last, after protracted and painful hesitation, she decided that she was
      bound to silence, and that she would only vouchsafe the vaguest
      explanations.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was in vain, then, that, on the next and the following days, Mme.
      Favoral tried to obtain that confession which she had seen, as it were,
      rise to her daughter&rsquo;s lips.&nbsp; To her passionate adjurations, to her
      tears, to her ruses even, Mlle. Gilberte invariably opposed equivocal
      answers, a story through which nothing could be guessed, save one of those
      childish romances which stop at the preface,&#8212;a schoolgirl love for a
      chimerical hero.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was nothing in this very reassuring to a mother; but Mme. Favoral
      knew her daughter too well to hope to conquer her invincible obstinacy.&nbsp;
      She insisted no more, appeared convinced, but resolved to exercise the
      utmost vigilance.&nbsp; In vain, however, did she display all the
      penetration of which she was capable.&nbsp; The severest attention did not
      reveal to her a single suspicious fact, not a circumstance from which she
      could draw an induction, until, at last, she thought that she must have
      been mistaken.
    </p>
    <p>
      The fact is, that Mlle. Gilberte had not been long in feeling herself
      watched; and she observed herself with a tenacious circumspection that
      could hardly have been expected of her resolute and impatient nature.&nbsp;
      She had trained herself to a sort of cheerful carelessness, to which she
      strictly adhered, watching every expression of her countenance, and
      avoiding carefully those hours of vague revery in which she formerly
      indulged.
    </p>
    <p>
      For two successive weeks, fearing to be betrayed by her looks, she had the
      courage not to show herself at the window at the hour when she knew Marius
      would pass.&nbsp; Moreover, she was very minutely informed of the
      alternatives of the campaign undertaken by M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      More enthusiastic than ever about his pupil, the Signor Gismondo Pulei
      never tired of singing his praise, and with such pomp of expression, and
      so curious an exuberance of gesticulation, that Mme. Favoral was much
      amused; and, on the days when she was present at her daughter&rsquo;s lesson,
      she was the first to inquire,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, how is that famous pupil?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, according to what Marius had told him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is swimming in the purest satisfaction,&#8221; answered the
      candid maestro.&nbsp; &#8220;Every thing succeeds miraculously well, and
      much beyond his hopes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Or else, knitting his brows&#8212;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He was sad yesterday,&#8221; he said, &#8220;owing to an unexpected
      disappointment; but he does not lose courage.&nbsp; We shall succeed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl could not help smiling to see her mother assisting thus the
      unconscious complicity of the Signor Gismondo.&nbsp; Then she reproached
      herself for having smiled, and for having thus come, through a gradual and
      fatal descent, to laugh at a duplicity at which she would have blushed in
      former times.&nbsp; In spite of herself, however, she took a passionate
      interest in the game that was being played between her mother and herself,
      and of which her secret was the stake.&nbsp; It was an ever-palpitating
      interest in her hitherto monotonous life, and a source of
      constantly-renewed emotions.
    </p>
    <p>
      The days became weeks, and the weeks months; and Mme. Favoral relaxed her
      useless surveillance, and, little by little, gave it up almost entirely.&nbsp;
      She still thought, that, at a certain moment, something unusual had
      occurred to her daughter; but she felt persuaded, that, whatever that was,
      it had been forgotten.
    </p>
    <p>
      So that, on the stated days, Mlle. Gilberte could go and lean upon the
      window, without fear of being called to account for the emotion which she
      felt when M. de Tregars appeared.&nbsp; At the expected hour, invariably,
      and with a punctuality to shame M. Favoral himself, he turned the corner
      of the Rue Turenne, exchanged a rapid glance with the young girl, and
      passed on.
    </p>
    <p>
      His health was completely restored; and with it he had recovered that
      graceful virility which results from the perfect blending of suppleness
      and strength.&nbsp; But he no longer wore the plain garments of former
      days.&nbsp; He was dressed now with that elegant simplicity which reveals
      at first sight that rarest of objects,&#8212;a &#8220;perfect gentleman.&#8221;&nbsp;
      And, whilst she accompanied him with her eyes as he walked towards the
      Boulevard, she felt thoughts of joy and pride rising from the bottom of
      her soul.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who would ever imagine,&#8221; thought she, &#8220;that this young
      gentleman walking away yonder is my affianced husband, and that the day is
      perhaps not far, when, having become his wife, I shall lean upon his arm?&nbsp;
      Who would think that all my thoughts belong to him, that it is for my sake
      that he has given up the ambition of his life, and is now prosecuting
      another object?&nbsp; Who would suspect that it is for Gilberte Favoral&rsquo;s
      sake that the Marquis de Tregars is walking in the Rue St. Gilles?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, indeed, Marius did deserve some credit for these walks; for winter
      had come, spreading a thick coat of mud over the pavement of all those
      little streets which are always forgotten by the street-cleaners.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cashier&rsquo;s home had resumed its habits of before the war, its drowsy
      monotony scarcely disturbed by the Saturday dinner, by M. Desclavettes&rsquo;
      naivetes or old Desormeaux&rsquo;s puns.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence, in the mean time, had ceased to live with his parents.&nbsp; He
      had returned to Paris immediately after the Commune; and, feeling no
      longer in the humor to submit to the paternal despotism, he had taken a
      small apartment on the Boulevard du Temple; but, at the pressing instance
      of his mother, he had consented to come every night to dine at the Rue St.
      Gilles.
    </p>
    <p>
      Faithful to his oath, he was working hard, though without getting on very
      fast.&nbsp; The moment was far from propitious; and the occasion, which he
      had so often allowed to escape, did not offer itself again.&nbsp; For lack
      of any thing better, he had kept his clerkship at the railway; and, as two
      hundred francs a month were not quite sufficient for his wants, he spent a
      portion of his nights copying documents for M. Chapelain&rsquo;s successor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you need so much money for?&#8221; his mother said to him
      when she noticed his eyes a little red.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Every thing is so dear!&#8221; he answered with a smile, which was
      equivalent to a confidence, and yet which Mme. Favoral did not understand.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had, nevertheless, managed to pay all his debts, little by little.&nbsp;
      The day when, at last, he held in his hand the last receipted bill, he
      showed it proudly to his father, begging him to find him a place at the
      Mutual Credit, where, with infinitely less trouble, he could earn so much
      more.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral commenced to giggle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you take me for a fool, like your mother?&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp;
      &#8220;And do you think I don&rsquo;t know what life you lead?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My life is that of a poor devil who works as hard as he can.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed!&nbsp; How is it, then, that women are constantly seen at
      your house, whose dresses and manners are a scandal in the neighborhood?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have been deceived, father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have seen.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is impossible.&nbsp; Let me explain.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, you would have your trouble for nothing.&nbsp; You are, and you
      will ever remain, the same; and it would be folly on my part to introduce
      into an office where I enjoy the esteem of all, a fellow, who, some day or
      other, will be fatally dragged into the mud by some lost creature.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Such discussions were not calculated to make the relations between father
      and son more cordial.&nbsp; Several times M. Favoral had insinuated, that,
      since Maxence lodged away from home, he might as well dine away too.&nbsp;
      And he would evidently have notified him to do so, had he not been
      prevented by a remnant of human respect, and the fear of gossip.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the other hand, the bitter regret of having, perhaps, spoiled his life,
      the uncertainty of the future, the penury of the moment, all the
      unsatisfied desires of youth, kept Maxence in a state of perpetual
      irritation.
    </p>
    <p>
      The excellent Mme. Favoral exhausted all her arguments to quiet him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your father is harsh for us,&#8221; she said; &#8220;but is he less
      harsh for himself?&nbsp; He forgives nothing; but he has never needed to
      be forgiven himself.&nbsp; He does not understand youth, but he has never
      been young himself; and at twenty he was as grave and as cold as you see
      him now.&nbsp; How could he know what pleasure is?&#8212;he to whom the
      idea has never come to take an hour&rsquo;s enjoyment.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have I, then, been guilty of any crimes, to be thus treated by my
      father?&#8221; exclaimed Maxence, flushed with anger.&nbsp; &#8220;Our
      existence here is an unheard-of thing.&nbsp; You, poor, dear mother!&#8212;you
      have never had the free disposition of a five-franc-piece.&nbsp; Gilberte
      spends her days turning her dresses, after having had them dyed.&nbsp; I
      am driven to a petty clerkship.&nbsp; And my father has fifty thousand
      francs a year!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Such, indeed, was the figure at which the most moderate estimated M.
      Favoral&rsquo;s fortune.&nbsp; M. Chapelain, who was supposed to be well
      informed, insinuated freely that his friend Vincent, besides being the
      cashier of the Mutual Credit, must also be one of its principal
      stock-holders.&nbsp; Now, judging from the dividend which had just been
      paid, the Mutual Credit must, since the war, have realized enormous
      profits.&nbsp; All its enterprises were successful; and it was on the
      point of negotiating a foreign loan which would infallibly fill its
      exchequer to overflowing.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral, moreover, defended himself feebly from these accusations of
      concealed opulence.&nbsp; When M. Desormeaux told him, &#8220;Come, now,
      between us, candidly, how many millions have you?&#8221; he had such a
      strange way of affirming that people were very much mistaken, that his
      friends&rsquo; convictions became only the more settled.&nbsp; And, as soon as
      they had a few thousand francs of savings, they promptly brought them to
      him, imitated in this by a goodly number of the small capitalists of the
      neighborhood, who were wont to remark among themselves,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That man is safer than the bank!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Millionaire or otherwise, the cashier of the Mutual Credit became daily
      more difficult to live with.&nbsp; If strangers, those who had with him
      but a superficial intercourse, if the Saturday guests themselves,
      discovered in him no appreciable change, his wife and his children
      followed with anxious surprise the modifications of his humor.
    </p>
    <p>
      If outwardly he still appeared the same impassible, precise, and grave
      man, he showed himself at home more fretful than an old maid, &#8212;nervous,
      agitated, and subject to the oddest whims.&nbsp; After remaining three or
      four days without opening his lips, he would begin to speak upon all sorts
      of subjects with amazing volubility.&nbsp; Instead of watering his wine
      freely, as formerly, he had begun to drink it pure; and he often took two
      bottles at his meal, excusing himself upon the necessity that he felt the
      need of stimulating himself a little after his excessive labors.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then he would be taken with fits of coarse gayety; and he related singular
      anecdotes, intermingled with slang expressions, which Maxence alone could
      understand.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the morning of the first day of January, 1872, as he sat down to
      breakfast, he threw upon the table a roll of fifty napoleons, saying to
      his children,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here is your New Year&rsquo;s gift!&nbsp; Divide, and buy anything you
      like.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And as they were looking at him, staring, stupid with astonishment,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, what of it?&#8221; he added with an oath.&nbsp; &#8220;Isn&rsquo;t
      it well, once in a while, to scatter the coins a little?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Those unexpected thousand francs Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte applied to the
      purchase of a shawl, which their mother had wished for ten years.
    </p>
    <p>
      She laughed and she cried with pleasure and emotion, the poor woman; and,
      whilst draping it over her shoulders,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, well, my dear children,&#8221; she said:&nbsp; &#8220;your
      father, after all, is not such a bad man.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Of which they did not seem very well convinced.&nbsp; &#8220;One thing is
      sure,&#8221; remarked Mlle. Gilberte:&nbsp; &#8220;to permit himself such
      liberality, papa must be awfully rich.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral was not present at this scene.&nbsp; The yearly accounts kept
      him so closely confined to his office, that he remained forty-eight hours
      without coming home.&nbsp; A journey which he was compelled to undertake
      for M. de Thaller consumed the balance of the week.
    </p>
    <p>
      But on his return he seemed satisfied and quiet.&nbsp; Without giving up
      his situation at the Mutual Credit, he was about, he stated, to associate
      himself with the Messrs.&nbsp; Jottras, M. Saint Pavin of &#8220;The
      Financial Pilot,&#8221; and M. Costeclar, to undertake the construction of
      a foreign railway.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar was at the head of this enterprise, the enormous profits of
      which were so certain and so clear; that they could be figured in advance.
    </p>
    <p>
      And whilst on this same subject,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You were very wrong,&#8221; he said to Mlle. Gilberte, &#8220;not
      to make haste and marry Costeclar when he was willing to have you.&nbsp;
      You will never find another such match,&#8212;a man who, before ten years,
      will be a financial power.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The very name of M. Costeclar had the effect of irritating the young girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I thought you had fallen out?&#8221; she said to her father.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So we had,&#8221; he replied with some embarrassment, &#8220;because
      he has never been willing to tell me why he had withdrawn; but people
      always make up again when they have interests in common.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Formerly, before the war, M. Favoral would certainly never have
      condescended to enter into all these details.&nbsp; But he was becoming
      almost communicative.&nbsp; Mlle. Gilberte, who was observing him with
      interested attention, fancied she could see that he was yielding to that
      necessity of expansion, more powerful than the will itself, which besets
      the man who carries within him a weighty secret.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whilst for twenty years he had, so to speak, never breathed a word on the
      subject of the Thaller family, now he was continually speaking of them.&nbsp;
      He told his Saturday friends all about the princely style of the baron,
      the number of his servants and horses, the color of his liveries, the
      parties that he gave, what he spent for pictures and objects of art, and
      even the very names of his mistresses; for the baron had too much respect
      for himself not to lay every year a few thousand napoleons at the feet of
      some young lady sufficiently conspicuous to be mentioned in the society
      newspapers.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral confessed that he did not approve the baron; but it was with a
      sort of bitter hatred that he spoke of the baroness.&nbsp; It was
      impossible, he affirmed to his guests, to estimate even approximately the
      fabulous sums squandered by her, scattered, thrown to the four winds.&nbsp;
      For she was not prodigal, she was prodigality itself,&#8212;that idiotic,
      absurd, unconscious prodigality which melts a fortune in a turn of the
      hand; which cannot even obtain from money the satisfaction of a want, a
      wish, or a fancy.
    </p>
    <p>
      He said incredible things of her,&#8212;things which made Mme.
      Desclavettes jump upon her seat, explaining that he learned all these
      details from M. de Thaller, who had often commissioned him to pay his
      wife&rsquo;s debts, and also from the baroness herself, who did not hesitate to
      call sometimes at the office for twenty francs; for such was her want of
      order, that, after borrowing all the savings of her servants, she
      frequently had not two cents to throw to a beggar.
    </p>
    <p>
      Neither did the cashier of the Mutual Credit seem to have a very good
      opinion of Mademoiselle de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      Brought up at hap-hazard, in the kitchen much more than in the parlor,
      until she was twelve, and, later, dragged by her mother anywhere,&#8212;to
      the races, to the first representations, to the watering-places, always
      escorted by a squadron of the young men of the bourse, Mlle. de Thaller
      had adopted a style which would have been deemed detestable in a man.&nbsp;
      As soon as some questionable fashion appeared, she appropriated it at
      once, never finding any thing eccentric enough to make herself
      conspicuous.&nbsp; She rode on horseback, fenced, frequented
      pigeon-shooting matches, spoke slang, sang Theresa&rsquo;s songs, emptied neatly
      her glass of champagne, and smoked her cigarette.
    </p>
    <p>
      The guests were struck dumb with astonishment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But those people must spend millions!&#8221; interrupted M.
      Chapelain.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral started as if he had been slapped on the back.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&#8221; he answered.&nbsp; &#8220;They are so rich, so awfully
      rich!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He changed the conversation that evening; but on the following Saturday,
      from the very beginning of the dinner,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that M. de Thaller has just
      discovered a husband for his daughter.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My compliments!&#8221; exclaimed M. Desormeaux.&nbsp; &#8220;And
      who may this bold fellow be?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A nobleman, of course,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;Isn&rsquo;t that
      the tradition?&nbsp; As soon as a financier has made his little million,
      he starts in quest of a nobleman to give him his daughter.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      One of those painful presentiments, such as arise in the inmost recesses
      of the soul, made Mlle. Gilberte turn pale.&nbsp; This presentiment
      suggested to her an absurd, ridiculous, unlikely thing; and yet she was
      sure that it would not deceive her,&#8212;so sure, indeed, that she rose
      under the pretext of looking for something in the side-board, but in
      reality to conceal the terrible emotion which she anticipated.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And this gentleman?&#8221; inquired M. Chapelain.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is a marquis, if you please,&#8212;the Marquis de Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, yes, it was this very name that Mlle. Gilberte was expecting, and
      well that she did; for she was thus able to command enough control over
      herself to check the cry that rose to her throat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But this marriage is not made yet,&#8221; pursued M. Favoral.&nbsp;
      &#8220;This marquis is not yet so completely ruined, that he can be made
      to do any thing they please.&nbsp; Sure, the baroness has set her heart
      upon it, oh! but with all her might!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A discussion which now arose prevented Gilberte from learning any more;
      and as soon as the dinner, which seemed eternal to her, was over, she
      complained of a violent headache, and withdrew to her room.
    </p>
    <p>
      She shook with fever; her teeth chattered.&nbsp; And yet she could not
      believe that Marius was betraying her, nor that he could have the thought
      of marrying such a girl as M. Favoral had described, and for money too!&nbsp;
      Poor, ah!&nbsp; No, that was not admissible.&nbsp; Although she remembered
      well that Marius had made her swear to believe nothing that might be said
      of him, she spent a horrible Sunday, and she felt like throwing herself in
      the Signor Gismondo&rsquo;s arms, when, in giving her his lesson the following
      Monday,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My poor pupil,&#8221; he said, &#8220;feels miserable.&nbsp; A
      marriage has been spoken of for him, for which he has a perfect horror;
      and he trembles lest the rumor may reach his intended, whom he loves
      exclusively.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte felt re-assured after that.&nbsp; And yet there remained in
      her heart an invincible sadness.&nbsp; She could hardly doubt that this
      matrimonial scheme was a part of the plan planned by Marius to recover his
      fortune.&nbsp; But why, then, had he applied to M. de Thaller?&nbsp; Who
      could be the man who had despoiled the Marquis de Tregars?
    </p>
    <p>
      Such were the thoughts which occupied her mind on that Saturday evening
      when the commissary of police presented himself in the Rue St. Gilles to
      arrest M. Favoral, charged with embezzling ten or twelve millions.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXII
    </h2>
    <p>
      The hour had now come for the denouement of that home tragedy which was
      being enacted in the Rue St. Gilles.
    </p>
    <p>
      The reader will remember the incidents narrated at the beginning of this
      story,&#8212;M. de Thaller&rsquo;s visit and angry words with M. Favoral, his
      departure after leaving a package of bank-notes in Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s hands,
      the advent of the commissary of police, M. Favoral&rsquo;s escape, and finally
      the departure of the Saturday evening guests.
    </p>
    <p>
      The disaster which struck Mme. Favoral and her children had been so sudden
      and so crushing, that they had been, on the moment, too stupefied to
      realize it.&nbsp; What had happened went so far beyond the limits of the
      probable, of the possible even, that they could not believe it.&nbsp; The
      too cruel scenes which had just taken place were to them like the absurd
      incidents of a horrible nightmare.
    </p>
    <p>
      But when their guests had retired after a few commonplace protestations,
      when they found themselves alone, all three, in that house whose master
      had just fled, tracked by the police,&#8212;then only, as the disturbed
      equilibrium of their minds became somewhat restored, did they fully
      realize the extent of the disaster, and the horror of the situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whilst Mme. Favoral lay apparently lifeless on an arm-chair, Gilberte
      kneeling at her feet, Maxence was walking up and down the parlor with
      furious steps.&nbsp; He was whiter than the plaster on the halls; and a
      cold perspiration glued his tangled hair to his temples.
    </p>
    <p>
      His eyes glistening, and his fists clinched,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Our father a thief!&#8221; he kept repeating in a hoarse voice,
      &#8220;a forger!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And in fact never had the slightest suspicion arisen in his mind.&nbsp; In
      these days of doubtful reputations, he had been proud indeed of M.
      Favoral&rsquo;s reputation of austere integrity.&nbsp; And he had endured many a
      cruel reproach, saying to himself that his father had, by his own spotless
      conduct, acquired the right to be harsh and exacting.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And he has stolen twelve millions!&#8221; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      And he went on, trying to calculate all the luxury and splendor which such
      a sum represents, all the cravings gratified, all the dreams realized, all
      it can procure of things that may be bought.&nbsp; And what things are not
      for sale for twelve millions!
    </p>
    <p>
      Then he examined the gloomy home in the Rue St. Gilles,&#8212;the
      contracted dwelling, the faded furniture, the prodigies of a parsimonious
      industry, his mother&rsquo;s privations, his sister&rsquo;s penury, and his own
      distress.&nbsp; And he exclaimed again,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a monstrous infamy!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The words of the commissary of police had opened his eyes; and he now
      fancied the most wonderful things.&nbsp; M. Favoral, in his mind, assumed
      fabulous proportions.&nbsp; By what miracles of hypocrisy and
      dissimulation had he succeeded in making himself ubiquitous as it were,
      and, without awaking a suspicion, living two lives so distinct and so
      different,&#8212;here, in the midst of his family, parsimonious, methodic,
      and severe; elsewhere, in some illicit household, doubtless facile,
      smiling, and generous, like a successful thief.
    </p>
    <p>
      For Maxence considered the bills found in the secretary as a flagrant,
      irrefutable and material proof.
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon the brink of that abyss of shame into which his father had just
      tumbled, he thought he could see, not the inevitable woman, that incentive
      of all human actions, but the entire legion of those bewitching courtesans
      who possess unknown crucibles wherein to swell fortunes, and who have
      secret filtres to stupefy their dupes, and strip them of their honor,
      after robbing them of their last cent.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I,&#8221; said Maxence,&#8212;&#8220;I, because at twenty I was
      fond of pleasure, I was called a bad son!&nbsp; Because I had made some
      three hundred francs of debts, I was deemed a swindler!&nbsp; Because I
      love a poor girl who has for me the most disinterested affection, I am one
      of those rascals whom their family disown, and from whom nothing can be
      expected but shame and disgrace!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He filled the parlor with the sound of his voice, which rose like his
      wrath.
    </p>
    <p>
      And at the thought of all the bitter reproaches which had been addressed
      to him by his father, and of all the humiliations that had been heaped
      upon him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, the wretch!&#8221; he fairly shrieked, &#8220;&#8212;the
      coward!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      As pale as her brother, her face bathed in tears, and her beautiful hair
      hanging undone, Mlle. Gilberte drew herself up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is our father, Maxence,&#8221; she said gently.
    </p>
    <p>
      But he interrupted her with a wild burst of laughter.&nbsp; &#8220;True,&#8221;
      he answered; &#8220;and, by virtue of the law which is written in the
      code, we owe him affection and respect.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Maxence!&#8221; murmured the girl in a beseeching tone.&nbsp; But
      he went on, nevertheless,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, he is our father, unfortunately.&nbsp; But I should like to
      know his titles to our respect and our affection.&nbsp; After making our
      mother the most miserable of creatures, he has embittered our existence,
      withered our youth, ruined my future, and done his best to spoil yours by
      compelling you to marry Costeclar.&nbsp; And, to crown all these deeds of
      kindness, he runs away now, after stealing twelve millions, leaving us
      nothing but misery and a disgraced name.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; he added, &#8220;is it possible that a cashier
      should take twelve millions, and his employer know nothing of it?&nbsp;
      And is our father really the only man who benefitted by these millions?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then came back to the mind of Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte the last words of
      their father at the moment of his flight,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have been betrayed; and I must suffer for all!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And his sincerity could hardly be called in question; for he was then in
      one of those moments of decisive crisis in which the truth forces itself
      out in spite of all calculation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He must have accomplices then,&#8221; murmured Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although he had spoken very low, Mme. Favoral overheard him.&nbsp; To
      defend her husband, she found a remnant of energy, and, straightening
      herself on her seat,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! do not doubt it,&#8221; she stammered out.&nbsp; &#8220;Of his
      own inspiration, Vincent could never have committed an evil act.&nbsp; He
      has been circumvented, led away, duped!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well; but by whom?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By Costeclar,&#8221; affirmed Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By the Messrs.&nbsp; Jottras, the bankers,&#8221; said Mme.
      Favoral, &#8220;and also by M. Saint Pavin, the editor of &#8216;the
      Financial Pilot.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By all of them, evidently,&#8221; interrupted Maxence, &#8220;even
      by his manager, M. de Thaller.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      When a man is at the bottom of a precipice, what is the use of finding out
      how he has got there,&#8212;whether by stumbling over a stone, or slipping
      on a tuft of grass!&nbsp; And yet it is always our foremost thought.&nbsp;
      It was with an eager obstinacy that Mme. Favoral and her children ascended
      the course of their existence, seeking in the past the incidents and the
      merest words which might throw some light upon their disaster; for it was
      quite manifest that it was not in one day and at the same time that twelve
      millions had been subtracted from the Mutual Credit.&nbsp; This enormous
      deficit must have been, as usual, made gradually, with infinite caution at
      first, whilst there was a desire, and some hope, to make it good again,
      then with mad recklessness towards the end when the catastrophe had become
      inevitable.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas!&#8221; murmured Mme. Favoral, &#8220;why did not Vincent
      listen to my presentiments on that ever fatal day when he brought M. de
      Thaller, M. Jottras, and M. Saint Pavin to dine here?&nbsp; They promised
      him a fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte were too young at the time of that dinner to
      have preserved any remembrance of it; but they remembered many other
      circumstances, which, at the time they had taken place, had not struck
      them.&nbsp; They understood now the temper of their father, his perpetual
      irritation, and the spasms of his humor.&nbsp; When his friends were
      heaping insults upon him, he had exclaimed,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be it so! let them arrest me; and to-night, for the first time in
      many years, I shall sleep in peace.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There were years, then, that he lived, as it were upon burning coals,
      trembling at the fear of discovery, and wondering, as he went to sleep
      each night, whether he would not be awakened by the rude hand of the
      police tapping him on the shoulder.&nbsp; No one better than Mme. Favoral
      could affirm it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your father, my children,&#8221; she said, &#8220;had long since
      lost his sleep.&nbsp; There was hardly ever a night that he did not get up
      and walk the room for hours.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They understood, now, his efforts to compel Mlle. Gilberte to marry M.
      Costeclar.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He thought that Costeclar would help him out of the scrape,&#8221;
      suggested Maxence to his sister.
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor girl shuddered at the thought, and she could not help feeling
      thankful to her father for not having told her his situation; for would
      she have had the sublime courage to refuse the sacrifice, if her father
      had told her?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have stolen!&nbsp; I am lost!&nbsp; Costeclar alone can save me;
      and he will save me if you become his wife.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Favoral&rsquo;s pleasant behavior during the siege was quite natural.&nbsp;
      Then he had no fears; and one could understand how in the most critical
      hours of the Commune, when Paris was in flames, he could have exclaimed
      almost cheerfully,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! this time it is indeed the final liquidation.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Doubtless, in the bottom of his heart, he wished that Paris might be
      destroyed, and, with it, the evidences of his crime.&nbsp; And perhaps he
      was not the only one to form that impious wish.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s why, then,&#8221; exclaimed Maxence,&#8212;&#8220;that&rsquo;s why
      my father treated me so rudely:&nbsp; that&rsquo;s why he so obstinately
      persisted in closing the offices of the Mutual Credit against me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was interrupted by a violent ringing of the door-bell.&nbsp; He looked
      at the clock:&nbsp; ten o&rsquo;clock was about to strike.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who can call so late?&#8221; said Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Something like a discussion was heard in the hall,&#8212;a voice hoarse
      with anger, and the servant&rsquo;s voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go and see who&rsquo;s there,&#8221; said Gilberte to her brother.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was useless; the servant appeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s M. Bertan,&#8221; she commenced, &#8220;the baker&#8212;&#8221;
      He had followed her, and, pushing her aside with his robust arm, he
      appeared himself.&nbsp; He was a man about forty years of age, tall, thin,
      already bald, and wearing his beard trimmed close.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Favoral?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My father is not at home,&#8221; replied Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s true, then, what I have just been told?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That the police came to arrest him, and he escaped through a
      window.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s true,&#8221; replied Maxence gently.
    </p>
    <p>
      The baker seemed prostrated.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And my money?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What money?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, my ten thousand francs!&nbsp; Ten thousand francs which I
      brought to M. Favoral, in gold, you hear? in ten rolls, which I placed
      there, on that very table, and for which he gave me a receipt.&nbsp; Here
      it is,&#8212;his receipt.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He held out a paper; but Maxence did not take it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not doubt your word, sir,&#8221; he replied; &#8220;but my
      father&rsquo;s business is not ours.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You refuse to give me back my money?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Neither my mother, my sister, nor myself, have any thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The blood rushed to the man&rsquo;s face, and, with a tongue made thick by
      anger,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you think you are going to pay me off in that way?&#8221; he
      exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;You have nothing!&nbsp; Poor little fellow!&nbsp;
      And will you tell me, then, what has become of the twenty millions your
      father has stolen? for he has stolen twenty millions.&nbsp; I know it:&nbsp;
      I have been told so.&nbsp; Where are they?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The police, sir, has placed the seals over my fathers papers.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The police?&#8221; interrupted the baker, &#8220;the seals?&nbsp;
      What do I care for that?&nbsp; It&rsquo;s my money I want:&nbsp; do you hear?&nbsp;
      Justice is going to take a hand in it, is it?&nbsp; Arrest your father,
      try him?&nbsp; What good will that do me?&nbsp; He will be condemned to
      two or three years&rsquo; imprisonment.&nbsp; Will that give me a cent?&nbsp; He
      will serve out his time quietly; and, when he gets out of prison, he&rsquo;ll
      get hold of the pile that he&rsquo;s got hidden somewhere; and while I starve,
      he&rsquo;ll spend my money under my very nose.&nbsp; No, no!&nbsp; Things won&rsquo;t
      suit me that way.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s at once that I want to be paid.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And throwing himself upon a chair his head back, and his legs stretched
      forward&#8212;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what&rsquo;s more,&#8221; he declared, &#8220;I am not going out of
      here until I am paid.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was not without the greatest efforts that Maxence managed to keep his
      temper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your insults are useless, sir,&#8221; he commenced.
    </p>
    <p>
      The man jumped up from his seat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Insults!&#8221; he cried in a voice that could have been heard all
      through the house.&nbsp; &#8220;Do you call it an insult when a man claims
      his own?&nbsp; If you think you can make me hush, you are mistaken in your
      man, M. Favoral, Jun.&nbsp; I am not rich myself:&nbsp; my father has not
      stolen to leave me an income.&nbsp; It is not in gambling at the bourse
      that I made these ten thousand francs.&nbsp; It is by the sweat of my
      body, by working hard night and day for years, by depriving myself of a
      glass of wine when I was thirsty.&nbsp; And I am to lose them?&nbsp; By
      the holy name of heaven, we&rsquo;ll have to see about that!&nbsp; If everybody
      was like me, there would not be so many scoundrels going about, their
      pockets filled with other people&rsquo;s money, and from the top of their
      carriage laughing at the poor fools they have ruined.&nbsp; Come, my ten
      thousand francs, canaille, or I take my pay on your back.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence, enraged, was about to throw himself upon the man, and a
      disgusting struggle was about to begin, when Mlle. Gilberte stepped
      between them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your threats are as cowardly as your insults, Monsieur Bertan,&#8221;
      she uttered in a quivering voice.&nbsp; &#8220;You have known us long
      enough to be aware that we know nothing of our father&rsquo;s business, and that
      we have nothing ourselves.&nbsp; All we can do is to give up to our
      creditors our very last crumb.&nbsp; Thus it shall be done.&nbsp; And now,
      sir, please retire.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was so much dignity in her sorrow, and so imposing was her attitude,
      that the baker stood abashed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! if that&rsquo;s the way,&#8221; he stammered awkwardly; &#8220;and
      since you meddle with it, mademoiselle&#8212;&#8221; And he retreated
      precipitately, growling at the same time threats and excuses, and slamming
      the doors after him hard enough to break the partitions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a disgrace!&#8221; murmured Mme. Favoral.&nbsp; Crushed by
      this last scene, she was choking; and her children had to carry her to the
      open window.&nbsp; She recovered almost at once; but thus, through the
      darkness, bleak and cold, she had like a vision of her husband; and,
      throwing herself back,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;O great heavens!&#8221; she uttered, &#8220;where did he go when he
      left us?&nbsp; Where is he now?&nbsp; What is he doing?&nbsp; What has
      become of him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her married life had been for Mme. Favoral but a slow torture.&nbsp; It
      was in vain that she would have looked back through her past life for some
      of those happy days which leave their luminous track in life, and towards
      which the mind turns in the hours of grief.&nbsp; Vincent Favoral had
      never been aught but a brutal despot, abusing the resignation of his
      victim.&nbsp; And yet, had he died, she would have wept bitterly over him
      in all the sincerity of her honest and simple soul.&nbsp; Habit!&nbsp;
      Prisoners have been known to shed tears over the grave of their jailer.&nbsp;
      Then he was her husband, after all, the father of her children, the only
      man who existed for her.&nbsp; For twenty-six years they had never been
      separated:&nbsp; they had sat at the same table:&nbsp; they had slept side
      by side.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yes, she would have wept over him.&nbsp; But how much less poignant would
      her grief have been than at this moment, when it was complicated by all
      the torments of uncertainty, and by the most frightful apprehensions!
    </p>
    <p>
      Fearing lest she might take cold, her children had removed her to the
      sofa, and there, all shivering,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Isn&rsquo;t it horrible,&#8221; she said, &#8220;not to know any thing of
      your father? &#8212;to think that at this very moment, perhaps, pursued by
      the police, he is wandering in despair through the streets, without daring
      to ask anywhere for shelter.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her children had no time to answer and comfort her; for at this moment the
      door-bell rang again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who can it be now?&#8221; said Mme. Favoral with a start.
    </p>
    <p>
      This time there was no discussion in the hall.&nbsp; Steps sounded on the
      floor of the dining-room; the door opened; and M. Desclavettes, the old
      bronze-merchant, walked, or rather slipped into the parlor.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hope, fear, anger, all the sentiments which agitated his soul, could be
      read on his pale and cat-like face.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is I,&#8221; he commenced.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence stepped forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you heard any thing from my father, sir?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No,&#8221; answered the old merchant, &#8220;I confess I have not;
      and I was just coming to see if you had yourselves.&nbsp; Oh, I know very
      well that this is not exactly the hour to call at a house; but I thought,
      that, after what took place this evening, you would not be in bed yet.&nbsp;
      I could not sleep myself.&nbsp; You understand a friendship of twenty
      years&rsquo; standing!&nbsp; So I took Mme. Desclavettes home, and here I am.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We feel very thankful for your kindness,&#8221; murmured Mme.
      Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am glad you do.&nbsp; The fact is, you see, I take a good deal of
      interest in the misfortune that strikes you,&#8212;a greater interest than
      any one else.&nbsp; For, after all, I, too, am a victim.&nbsp; I had
      intrusted one hundred and twenty thousand francs to our dear Vincent.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas, sir!&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      But the worthy man did not allow her to proceed.&nbsp; &#8220;I have no
      fault to find with him,&#8221; he went on&#8212;&#8220;absolutely none.&nbsp;
      Why, dear me! haven&rsquo;t I been in business myself? and don&rsquo;t I know what it
      is?&nbsp; First, we borrow a thousand francs or so from the cash account,
      then ten thousand, then a hundred thousand.&nbsp; Oh! without any bad
      intention, to be sure, and with the firm resolution to return them.&nbsp;
      But we don&rsquo;t always do what we wish to do.&nbsp; Circumstances sometimes
      work against us, if we operate at the bourse to make up the deficit we
      lose.&nbsp; Then we must borrow again, draw from Peter to pay Paul.&nbsp;
      We are afraid of being caught:&nbsp; we are compelled, reluctantly of
      course, to alter the books.&nbsp; At last a day comes when we find that
      millions are gone, and the bomb-shell bursts.&nbsp; Does it follow from
      this that a man is dishonest?&nbsp; Not the least in the world:&nbsp; he
      is simply unlucky.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He stopped, as if awaiting an answer; but, as none came, he resumed,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I repeat, I have no fault to find with Favoral.&nbsp; Only then,
      now, between us, to lose these hundred and twenty thousand francs would
      simply be a disaster for me.&nbsp; I know very well that both Chapelain
      and Desormeaux had also deposited funds with Favoral.&nbsp; But they are
      rich:&nbsp; one of them owns three houses in Paris, and the other has a
      good situation; whereas I, these hundred and twenty thousand francs gone,
      I&rsquo;d have nothing left but my eyes to weep with.&nbsp; My wife is dying
      about it.&nbsp; I assure you our position is a terrible one.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To M. Desclavettes,&#8212;as to the baker a few moments before,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We have nothing,&#8221; said Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know it,&#8221; exclaimed the old merchant.&nbsp; &#8220;I know
      it as well as you do yourself.&nbsp; And so I have come to beg a little
      favor of you, which will cost you nothing.&nbsp; When you see Favoral,
      remember me to him, explain my situation to him, and try to make him give
      me back my money.&nbsp; He is a hard one to fetch, that&rsquo;s a fact.&nbsp;
      But if you go right about it, above all, if our dear Gilberte will take
      the matter in hand.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sir!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&nbsp; I swear I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t say a word about it, either to
      Desormeaux or Chapelain, nor to any one else.&nbsp; Although reimbursed,
      I&rsquo;ll make as much noise as the rest,&#8212;more noise, even.&nbsp; Come,
      now, my dear friends, what do you say?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was almost crying.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And where the deuse,&#8221; exclaimed Maxence, &#8220;do you expect
      my father to take a hundred and twenty thousand francs?&nbsp; Didn&rsquo;t you
      see him go without even taking the money that M. de Thaller had brought?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A smile appeared upon M. Desclavettes&rsquo; pale lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That will do very well to say, my dear Maxence;&#8221; he said,
      &#8220;and some people may believe it.&nbsp; But don&rsquo;t say it to your old
      friend, who knows too much about business for that.&nbsp; When a man puts
      off, after borrowing twelve millions from his employers, he would be a
      great fool if he had not put away two or three in safety.&nbsp; Now,
      Favoral is not a fool.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Tears of shame and anger started from Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What you are saying is abominable, sir!&#8221; she exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      He seemed much surprised at this outburst of violence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why so?&#8221; he answered.&nbsp; &#8220;In Vincent&rsquo;s place, I
      should not have hesitated to do what he has certainly done.&nbsp; And I am
      an honest man too.&nbsp; I was in business for twenty years; and I dare
      any one to prove that a note signed Desclavettes ever went to protest.&nbsp;
      And so, my dear friends, I beseech you, consent to serve your old friend,
      and, when you see your father&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old man&rsquo;s tone of voice exasperated even Mme. Favoral herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We never expect to see my husband again,&#8221; she uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      He shrugged his shoulders, and, in a tone of paternal reproach,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You just give up all such ugly ideas,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;You
      will see him again, that dear Vincent; for he is much too sharp to allow
      himself to be caught.&nbsp; Of course, he&rsquo;ll stay away as long as it may
      be necessary; but, as soon as he can return without danger, he will do so.&nbsp;
      The Statute of Limitations has not been invented for the Grand Turk.&nbsp;
      Why, the Boulevard is crowded with people who have all had their little
      difficulty, and who have spent five or ten years abroad for their health.&nbsp;
      Does any one think any thing of it?&nbsp; Not in the least; and no one
      hesitates to shake hands with them.&nbsp; Besides, those things are so
      soon forgotten.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He kept on as if he never intended to stop; and it was not without trouble
      that Maxence and Gilberte succeeded in sending him off, very much
      dissatisfied to see his request so ill received.&nbsp; It was after twelve
      o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; Maxence was anxious to return to his own home; but, at the
      pressing instances of his mother, he consented to remain, and threw
      himself, without undressing, on the bed in his old room.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What will the morrow bring forth?&#8221; he thought.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXIII
    </h2>
    <p>
      After a few hours of that leaden sleep which follows great catastrophes,
      Mme. Favoral and her children were awakened on the morning of the next
      day, which was Sunday, by the furious clamors of an exasperated crowd.&nbsp;
      Each one, from his own room, understood that the apartment had just been
      invaded.&nbsp; Loud blows upon the door were mingled with the noise of
      feet, the oaths of men, and the screams of women.&nbsp; And, above this
      confused and continuous tumult, such vociferations as these could be
      heard:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I tell you they must be at home!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Canailles, swindlers, thieves!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We want to go in:&nbsp; we will go in!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let the woman come, then:&nbsp; we want to see her, to speak to
      her!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Occasionally there were moments of silence, during which the plaintive
      voice of the servant could be heard; but almost at once the cries and the
      threats commenced again, louder than ever.&nbsp; Maxence, being ready
      first, ran to the parlor, where his mother and sister joined him directly,
      their eyes swollen by sleep and by tears.&nbsp; Mme. Favoral was trembling
      so much that she could not succeed in fastening her dress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you hear?&#8221; she said in a choking voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the parlor, which was divided from the dining-room by folding-doors,
      they did not miss a single insult.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte coldly, &#8220;what else could we
      expect?&nbsp; If Bertan came alone last night, it is because he alone had
      been notified.&nbsp; Here are the others now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, turning to her brother,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must see them,&#8221; she added, &#8220;speak to them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence did not stir.&nbsp; The idea of facing the insults and the
      curses of these enraged creditors was too repugnant to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would you rather let them break in the door?&#8221; said Mlle.
      Gilberte.&nbsp; &#8220;That won&rsquo;t take long.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He hesitated no more.&nbsp; Gathering all his courage, he stepped into the
      dining-room.&nbsp; The disorder was beyond limits.&nbsp; The table had
      been pushed towards one of the corners, the chairs were upset.&nbsp; They
      were there some thirty men and women,&#8212;concierges, shop-keepers, and
      retired bourgeois of the neighborhood, their cheeks flushed, their eyes
      staring, gesticulating as if they had a fit, shaking their clinched fists
      at the ceiling.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Gentlemen,&#8221; commenced Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      But his voice was drowned by the most frightful shouts.&nbsp; He had
      hardly got in, when he was so closely surrounded, that he had been unable
      to close the parlor-door after him, and had been driven and backed against
      the embrasure of a window.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My father, gentlemen,&#8221; he resumed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again he was interrupted.&nbsp; There were three or four before him, who
      were endeavoring before all to establish their own claims clearly.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were speaking all at once, each one raising his own voice so as to
      drown that of the others.&nbsp; And yet, through their confused
      explanations, it was easy to understand the way in which the cashier of
      the Mutual Credit had managed things.
    </p>
    <p>
      Formerly it was only with great reluctance that he consented to take
      charge of the funds which were offered to him; and then he never accepted
      sums less than ten thousand francs, being always careful to say, that, not
      being a prophet, he could not answer for any thing, and might be mistaken,
      like any one else.&nbsp; Since the Commune, on the contrary, and with a
      duplicity, that could never have been suspected, he had used all his
      ingenuity to attract deposits.&nbsp; Under some pretext or other, he would
      call among the neighbors, the shop-keepers; and, after lamenting with them
      about the hard times and the difficulty of making money, he always ended
      by holding up to them the dazzling profits which are yielded by certain
      investments unknown to the public.
    </p>
    <p>
      If these very proceedings had not betrayed him, it is because he
      recommended to each the most inviolable secrecy, saying, that, at the
      slightest indiscretion, he would be assailed with demands, and that it
      would be impossible for him to do for all what he did for one.
    </p>
    <p>
      At any rate, he took every thing that was offered, even the most
      insignificant sums, affirming, with the most imperturbable assurance, that
      he could double or treble them without the slightest risk.
    </p>
    <p>
      The catastrophe having come, the smaller creditors showed themselves, as
      usual, the most angry and the most intractable.&nbsp; The less money one
      has, the more anxious one is to keep it.&nbsp; There was there an old
      newspaper-vender, who had placed in M. Favoral&rsquo;s hands all she had in the
      world, the savings of her entire life,&#8212;five hundred francs.&nbsp;
      Clinging desperately to Maxence&rsquo;s garments, she begged him to give them
      back to her, swearing, that, if he did not, there was nothing left for her
      to do, except to throw herself in the river.&nbsp; Her groans and her
      cries of distress exasperated the other creditors.
    </p>
    <p>
      That the cashier of the Mutual Credit should have embezzled millions, they
      could well understand, they said.&nbsp; But that he could have robbed this
      poor woman of her five hundred francs,&#8212;nothing more low, more
      cowardly, and more vile could be imagined; and the law had no chastisement
      severe enough for such a crime.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Give her back her five hundred francs;&#8221; they cried.&nbsp; For
      there was not one of them but would have wagered his head that M. Favoral
      had lots of money put away; and some went even so far as to say that he
      must have hid it in the house, and, if they looked well, they would find
      it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence, bewildered, was at a loss what to do, when, in the midst of this
      hostile crowd, he perceived M. Chapelain&rsquo;s friendly face.
    </p>
    <p>
      Driven from his bed at daylight by the bitter regrets at the heavy loss he
      had just sustained, the old lawyer had arrived in the Rue St. Gilles at
      the very moment when the creditors invaded M. Favoral&rsquo;s apartment.&nbsp;
      Standing behind the crowd, he had seen and heard every thing without
      breathing a word; and, if he interfered now, it was because he thought
      things were about to take an ugly turn.&nbsp; He was well known; and, as
      soon as he showed himself,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is a friend of the rascal!&#8221; they shouted on all sides.
    </p>
    <p>
      But he was not the man to be so easily frightened.&nbsp; He had seen many
      a worse case during twenty years that he had practised law, and had
      witnessed all the sinister comedies and all the grotesque dramas of money.&nbsp;
      He knew how to speak to infuriated creditors, how to handle them, and what
      strings can be made to vibrate within them.&nbsp; In the most quiet tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Certainly,&#8221; he answered, &#8220;I was Favoral&rsquo;s intimate
      friend; and the proof of it is, that he has treated me more friendly than
      the rest.&nbsp; I am in for a hundred and sixty thousand francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      By this mere declaration he conquered the sympathies of the crowd.&nbsp;
      He was a brother in misfortune; they respected him:&nbsp; he was a skilful
      business-man; they stopped to listen to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      At once, and in a short and trenchant tone, he asked these invaders what
      they were doing there, and what they wanted.&nbsp; Did they not know to
      what they exposed themselves in violating a domicile?&nbsp; What would
      have happened, if, instead of stopping to parley, Maxence had sent for the
      commissary of police?&nbsp; Was it to Mme. Favoral and her children that
      they had intrusted their funds?&nbsp; No!&nbsp; What did they want with
      them then?&nbsp; Was there by chance among them some of those shrewd
      fellows who always try to get themselves paid in full, to the detriment of
      the others?
    </p>
    <p>
      This last insinuation proved sufficient to break up the perfect accord
      that had hitherto existed among all the creditors.&nbsp; Distrust arose;
      suspicious glances were exchanged; and, as the old newspaper woman was
      keeping up her groans,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I should like to know why you should be paid before us,&#8221; two
      women told her roughly.&nbsp; &#8220;Our rights are just as good as yours!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Prompt to avail himself of the dispositions of the crowd,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, moreover,&#8221; resumed the old lawyer, &#8220;in whom did we
      place our confidence?&nbsp; Was it in Favoral the private individual?&nbsp;
      To a certain extent, yes; but it was much more to the cashier of the
      Mutual Credit.&nbsp; Therefore that establishment owes us, at least, some
      explanations.&nbsp; And this is not all.&nbsp; Are we really so badly
      burned, that we should scream so loud?&nbsp; What do we know about it?&nbsp;
      That Favoral is charged with embezzlement, that they came to arrest him,
      and that he has run away.&nbsp; Is that any reason why our money should be
      lost?&nbsp; I hope not.&nbsp; And so what should we do?&nbsp; Act
      prudently, and wait patiently for the work of justice.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Already, by this time, the creditors had slipped out one by one; and soon
      the servant closed the door on the last of them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then Mme. Favoral, Maxence, and Mlle. Gilberte surrounded M. Chapelain,
      and, pressing his hands,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How thankful we feel, sir, for the service you have just rendered
      us!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the old lawyer seemed in no wise proud of his victory.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not thank me,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;I have only done my
      duty,&#8212;what any honest man would have done in my place.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet, under the appearance of impassible coldness, which he owed to the
      long practice of a profession which leaves no illusions, he evidently felt
      a real emotion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is you whom I pity,&#8221; he added, &#8220;and with all my
      soul,&#8212;you, madame, you, my dear Gilberte, and you, too, Maxence.&nbsp;
      Never had I so well understood to what degree is guilty the head of a
      family who leaves his wife and children exposed to the consequences of his
      crimes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He stopped.&nbsp; The servant was trying her best to put the dining-room
      in some sort of order wheeling the table to the centre of the room, and
      lifting up the chairs from the floor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What pillage!&#8221; she grumbled.&nbsp; &#8220;Neighbors too,&#8212;people
      from whom we bought our things!&nbsp; But they were worse than savages;
      impossible to do any thing with them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t trouble yourself, my good girl,&#8221; said M. Chapelain:&nbsp;
      &#8220;they won&rsquo;t come back any more!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral looked as if she wished to drop on her knees before the old
      lawyer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How, very kind you are!&#8221; she murmured:&nbsp; &#8220;you are
      not too angry with my poor Vincent!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With the look of a man who has made up his mind to make the best of a
      disaster that he cannot help, M. Chapelain shrugged his shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am angry with no one but myself,&#8221; he uttered in a bluff
      tone.&nbsp; &#8220;An old bird like me should not have allowed himself to
      be caught in a pigeon-trap.&nbsp; I am inexcusable.&nbsp; But we want to
      get rich.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s slow work getting rich by working, and it&rsquo;s so much
      easier to get the money already made out of our neighbor&rsquo;s pockets!&nbsp;
      I have been unable to resist the temptation myself.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s my own
      fault; and I should say it was a good lesson, if it did not cost so dear.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXIV
    </h2>
    <p>
      So much philosophy could hardly have been expected of him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All my father&rsquo;s friends are not as indulgent as you are,&#8221;
      said Maxence,&#8212;&#8220;M.&nbsp; Desclavettes, for instance.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you seen him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, last night, about twelve o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; He came to ask us to
      get father to pay him back, if we should ever see him again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That might be an idea!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte started.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; said she, &#8220;you, too, sir, can imagine that my
      father has run away with millions?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old lawyer shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe nothing,&#8221; he answered.&nbsp; &#8220;Favoral has
      taken me in so completely,&#8212;me, who had the pretension of being a
      judge of men, &#8212;that nothing from him, either for good or for evil,
      could surprise me hereafter.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral was about to offer some objection; but he stopped her with a
      gesture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I&rsquo;d bet that he has gone off
      with empty pockets.&nbsp; His recent operations reveal a frightful
      distress.&nbsp; Had he had a few thousand francs at his command, would he
      have extorted five hundred francs from a poor old woman, a
      newspaper-vender?&nbsp; What did he want with the money?&nbsp; Try his
      luck once more, no doubt.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was seated, his elbow upon the arm of the chair, his head resting upon
      his hands, thinking; and the contraction of his features indicated an
      extraordinary tension of mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suddenly he drew himself up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But why,&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;why wander in idle
      conjectures?&nbsp; What do we know about Favoral?&nbsp; Nothing.&nbsp; One
      entire side of his existence escapes us,&#8212;that fantastic side, of
      which the insane prodigalities and inconceivable disorders have been
      revealed to us by the bills found in his desk.&nbsp; He is certainly
      guilty; but is he as guilty as we think? and, above all, is he alone
      guilty?&nbsp; Was it for himself alone that he drew all this money?&nbsp;
      Are the missing millions really lost? and wouldn&rsquo;t it be possible to find
      the biggest share of them in the pockets of some accomplice?&nbsp; Skilful
      men do not expose themselves.&nbsp; They have at their command poor
      wretches, sacrificed in advance, and who, in exchange for a few crumbs
      that are thrown to them, risk the criminal court, are condemned, and go to
      prison.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s just what I was telling my mother and sister, sir,&#8221;
      interrupted Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And that&rsquo;s what I am telling myself,&#8221; continued the old
      lawyer.&nbsp; &#8220;I have been thinking over and over again of last
      evening&rsquo;s scene; and strange doubts have occurred to my mind.&nbsp; For a
      man who has been robbed of a dozen millions, M. de Thaller was remarkably
      quiet and self-possessed.&nbsp; Favoral appeared to me singularly calm for
      a man charged with embezzlement and forgery.&nbsp; M. de Thaller, as
      manager of the Mutual Credit, is really responsible for the stolen funds,
      and, as such, should have been anxious to secure the guilty party, and to
      produce him.&nbsp; Instead of that, he wished him to go, and actually
      brought him the money to enable him to leave.&nbsp; Was he in hopes of
      hushing up the affair?&nbsp; Evidently not, since the police had been
      notified.&nbsp; On the other hand, Favoral seemed much more angry than
      surprised by the occurrence.&nbsp; It was only on the appearance of the
      commissary of police that he seems to have lost his head; and then some
      very strange things escaped him, which I cannot understand.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was walking at random through the parlor, apparently rather answering
      the objections of his own mind than addressing himself to his
      interlocutors, who were listening, nevertheless, with all the attention of
      which they were capable.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I don&rsquo;t know,&#8221; he went on.&nbsp; &#8220;An old traveler like
      me to be taken in thus!&nbsp; Evidently there is under all this one of
      those diabolical combinations which time even fails to unravel.&nbsp; We
      ought to see, to inquire&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And then, suddenly stopping in front of Maxence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How much did M. de Thaller bring to your father last evening?&#8221;
      he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fifteen thousand francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where are they?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Put away in mother&rsquo;s room.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When do you expect to take them back to M. de Thaller?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To-morrow.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why not to-day?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This is Sunday.&nbsp; The offices of the Mutual Credit must be
      closed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;After the occurrences of yesterday, M. de Thaller must be at his
      office.&nbsp; Besides, haven&rsquo;t you his private address?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg your pardon, I have.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old lawyer&rsquo;s small eyes were shining with unusual brilliancy.&nbsp; He
      certainly felt deeply the loss of his money; but the idea that he had been
      swindled for the benefit of some clever rascal was absolutely
      insupportable to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If we were wise,&#8221; he said again, &#8220;we&rsquo;d do this.&nbsp;
      Mme. Favoral would take these fifteen thousand francs, and we would go
      together, she and I, to see M. de Thaller.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was an unexpected good-fortune for Mme. Favoral, that M. Chapelain
      should consent to assist her.&nbsp; So, without hesitating,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The time to dress, sir,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and I am ready.&#8221;&nbsp;
      She left the parlor; but as she reached her room, her son joined her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am obliged to go out, dear mother,&#8221; he said; &#8220;and I
      shall probably not be home to breakfast.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She looked at him with an air of painful surprise.&nbsp; &#8220;What,&#8221;
      she said, &#8220;at such a moment!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am expected home.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By whom?&nbsp; A woman?&#8221; she murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And it is for that woman&rsquo;s sake that you want to leave your sister
      alone at home?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must, mother, I assure you; and, if you only knew&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not wish to know, any thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But his resolution had been taken.&nbsp; He went off; and a few moments
      later Mme. Favoral and M. Chapelain entered a cab which had been sent for,
      and drove to M. de Thaller&rsquo;s.
    </p>
    <p>
      Left alone, Mlle. Gilberte had but one thought,&#8212;to notify M. de
      Tregars, and obtain word from him.&nbsp; Any thing seemed preferable to
      the horrible anxiety which oppressed her.&nbsp; She had just commenced a
      letter, which she intended to have taken to the Count de Villegre, when a
      violent ring of the bell made her start; and almost immediately the
      servant came in, saying,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a gentleman who wishes to see you, a friend of monsieur&rsquo;s,
      &#8212;M.&nbsp; Costeclar, you know.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte started to her feet, trembling with excitement.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s too much impudence!&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp; She was
      hesitating whether to refuse him the door, or to see him, and dismiss him
      shamefully herself, when she had a sudden inspiration.&nbsp; &#8220;What
      does he want?&#8221; she thought.&nbsp; &#8220;Why not see him, and try
      and find out what he knows?&nbsp; For he certainly must know the truth.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was no longer time to deliberate.&nbsp; Above the servant&rsquo;s
      shoulder M. Costeclar&rsquo;s pale and impudent face showed itself.
    </p>
    <p>
      The girl having stepped to one side, he appeared, hat in hand.&nbsp;
      Although it was not yet nine o&rsquo;clock, his morning toilet was
      irreproachably correct.&nbsp; He had already passed through the
      hair-dresser&rsquo;s hands; and his scanty hair was brought forward over his low
      fore-head with the usual elaborate care.
    </p>
    <p>
      He wore a pair of those ridiculous trousers which grow wide from the knee
      down, and which were invented by Prussian tailors to hide their customers&rsquo;
      ugly feet.&nbsp; Under his light-colored overcoat could be seen a
      velvet-faced jacket, with a rose in its buttonhole.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, he remained motionless on the threshold of the door, trying to
      smile, and muttering one of those sentences which are never intended to be
      finished.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg you to believe, mademoiselle&#8212;your mother&rsquo;s absence&#8212;my
      most respectful admiration&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In fact, he was taken aback by the disorder of the girl&rsquo;s toilet, &#8212;disorder
      which she had had no time to repair since the clamors of the creditors had
      started her from her bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      She wore a long brown cashmere wrapper, fitting quite close over the hips
      setting off the vigorous elegance of her figure, the maidenly perfections
      of her waist, and the exquisite contour of her neck.&nbsp; Gathered up in
      haste, her thick blonde hair escaped from beneath the pins, and spread
      over her shoulders in luminous cascades.&nbsp; Never had she appeared to
      M. Costeclar as lovely as at this moment, when her whole frame was
      vibrating with suppressed indignation, her cheeks flushed, her eyes
      flashing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Please come in, sir,&#8221; she uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      He stepped forward, no longer bowing humbly as formerly, but with legs
      outstretched, chest thrown out, with an ill-concealed look of gratified
      vanity.&nbsp; &#8220;I did not expect the honor of your visit, sir,&#8221;
      said the young girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      Passing rapidly his hat and his cane from the right hand into the left,
      and then the right hand upon his heart, his eyes raised to the ceiling,
      and with all the depth of expression of which he was capable,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is in times of adversity that we know our real friends,
      mademoiselle,&#8221; he uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;Those upon whom we thought
      we could rely the most, often, at the first reverse, take flight forever!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She felt a shiver pass over her.&nbsp; Was this an allusion to Marius?
    </p>
    <p>
      The other, changing his tone, went on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s only last night that I heard of poor Favoral&rsquo;s discomfiture,
      at the bourse where I had gone for news.&nbsp; It was the general topic of
      conversation.&nbsp; Twelve millions!&nbsp; That&rsquo;s pretty hard.&nbsp; The
      Mutual Credit Society might not be able to stand it.&nbsp; From 580, at
      which it was selling before the news, it dropped at once to 300.&nbsp; At
      nine o&rsquo;clock, there were no takers at 180.&nbsp; And yet, if there is
      nothing beyond what they say, at 180, I am in.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Was he forgetting himself, or pretending to?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But please excuse me, mademoiselle,&#8221; he resumed:&nbsp;
      &#8220;that&rsquo;s not what I came to tell you.&nbsp; I came to ask if you had
      any news of our poor Favoral.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We have none, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then it is true:&nbsp; he succeeded in getting away through this
      window?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And he did not tell you where he meant to take refuge?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Observing M. Costeclar with all her power of penetration, Mlle. Gilberte
      fancied she discovered in him something like a certain surprise mingled
      with joy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then Favoral must have left without a sou!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They accuse him of having carried away millions, sir; but I would
      swear that it is not so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar approved with a nod.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am of the same opinion,&#8221; he declared, &#8220;unless&#8212;but
      no, he was not the man to try such a game.&nbsp; And yet&#8212;but again
      no, he was too closely watched.&nbsp; Besides, he was carrying a very
      heavy load, a load that exhausted all his resources.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte, hoping that she was going to learn something, made an
      effort to preserve her indifference.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; she inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      He looked at her, smiled, and, in a light tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing,&#8221; he answered, &#8220;only some conjectures of my
      own.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And throwing himself upon a chair, his head leaning upon its back,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is not the object of my visit either,&#8221; he uttered.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Favoral is overboard:&nbsp; don&rsquo;t let us say any thing more about
      him.&nbsp; Whether he has got &#8216;the bag&#8217; or not, you&rsquo;ll never
      see him again:&nbsp; he is as good as dead.&nbsp; Let us, therefore, talk
      of the living, of yourself.&nbsp; What&rsquo;s going to become of you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not understand your question, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is perfectly limpid, nevertheless.&nbsp; I am asking myself how
      you are going to live, your mother and yourself?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Providence will not abandon us, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar had crossed his legs, and with the end of his cane he was
      negligently tapping his immaculate boot.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Providence!&#8221; he giggled; &#8220;that&rsquo;s very good on the
      stage, in a play, with low music in the orchestra.&nbsp; I can just see
      it.&nbsp; In real life, unfortunately, the life which we both live, you
      and I, it is not with words, were they a yard long, that the baker, the
      grocer, and those rascally landlords, can be paid, or that dresses and
      shoes can be bought.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She made no answer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now, then,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;here you are without a penny.&nbsp;
      Is it Maxence who will supply you with money?&nbsp; Poor fellow!&nbsp;
      Where would he get it?&nbsp; He has hardly enough for himself.&nbsp;
      Therefore, what are you going to do?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall work, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He got up, bowed low, and, resuming his seat,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My sincere compliments,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;There is but
      one obstacle to that fine resolution:&nbsp; it is impossible for a woman
      to live by her labor alone.&nbsp; Servants are about the only ones who
      ever get their full to eat.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I&rsquo;ll be a servant, if necessary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For two or three seconds he remained taken aback, but, recovering himself,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How different things would be,&#8221; he resumed in an insinuating
      tone, &#8220;if you had not rejected me when I wanted to become your
      husband!&nbsp; But you couldn&rsquo;t bear the sight of me.&nbsp; And yet, &lsquo;pon
      my word, I was in love with you, oh, but for good and earnest!&nbsp; You
      see, I am a judge of women; and I saw very well how you would look,
      handsomely dressed and got up, leaning back in a fine carriage in the Bois&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Stronger than her will, disgust rose to her lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, sir!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      He mistook her meaning.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are regretting all that,&#8221; he continued.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      see it.&nbsp; Formerly, eh, you would never have consented to receive me
      thus, alone with you, which proves that girls should not be headstrong, my
      dear child.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He, Costeclar, he dared to call her, &#8220;My dear child.&#8221;&nbsp;
      Indignant and insulted, &#8220;Oh!&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp; But he had
      started, and kept on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, such as I was, I am still.&nbsp; To be sure, there probably
      would be nothing further said about marriage between us; but, frankly,
      what would you care if the conditions were the same,&#8212;a fine house,
      carriages, horses, servants&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Up to this moment, she had not fully understood him.&nbsp; Drawing herself
      up to her fullest height, and pointing to the door,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Leave this moment,&#8221; she ordered.
    </p>
    <p>
      But he seemed in no wise disposed to do so:&nbsp; on the contrary, paler
      than usual, his eyes bloodshot, his lips trembling, and smiling a strange
      smile, he advanced towards Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; said he.&nbsp; &#8220;You are in trouble, I kindly
      come to offer my services, and this is the way you receive me!&nbsp; You
      prefer to work, do you?&nbsp; Go ahead then, my lovely one, prick your
      pretty fingers, and redden your eyes.&nbsp; My time will come.&nbsp;
      Fatigue and want, cold in the winter, hunger in all seasons, will speak to
      your little heart of that kind Costeclar who adores you, like a big fool
      that he is, who is a serious man and who has money,&#8212;much money.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Beside herself,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Wretch!&#8221; cried the girl, &#8220;leave, leave at once.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;One moment,&#8221; said a strong voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar looked around.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius de Tregars stood within the frame of the open door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Marius!&#8221; murmured Mlle. Gilberte, rooted to the spot by a
      surprise hardly less immense than her joy.
    </p>
    <p>
      To behold him thus suddenly, when she was wondering whether she would ever
      see him again; to see him appear at the very moment when she found herself
      alone, and exposed to the basest outrages, &#8212;it was one of those
      fortunate occurrences which one can scarcely realize; and from the depth
      of her soul rose something like a hymn of thanks.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nevertheless, she was confounded at M. Costeclar&rsquo;s attitude.&nbsp;
      According to her, and from what she thought she knew, he should have been
      petrified at the sight of M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      And he did not even seem to know him.&nbsp; He seemed shocked, annoyed at
      being interrupted, slightly surprised, but in no wise moved or frightened.&nbsp;
      Knitting his brows,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you wish?&#8221; he inquired in his most impertinent tone.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars stepped forward.&nbsp; He was somewhat pale, but unnaturally
      calm, cool, and collected.&nbsp; Bowing to Mlle. Gilberte,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If I have thus ventured to enter your apartment, mademoiselle,&#8221;
      he uttered gently, &#8220;it is because, as I was going by the door, I
      thought I recognized this gentleman&rsquo;s carriage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, with his finger over his shoulder, he was pointing to M. Costeclar.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I had reason to be somewhat
      astonished at this, after the positive orders I had given him never to set
      his feet, not only in this house, but in this part of the city.&nbsp; I
      wished to find out exactly.&nbsp; I came up:&nbsp; I heard&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      All this was said in a tone of such crushing contempt, that a slap on the
      face would have been less cruel.&nbsp; All the blood in M. Costeclar&rsquo;s
      veins rushed to his face.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You!&#8221; he interrupted insolently:&nbsp; &#8220;I do not know
      you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Imperturbable, M. de Tregars was drawing off his gloves.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you quite certain of that?&#8221; he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;Come,
      you certainly know my old friend, M. de Villegre?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      An evident feeling of anxiety appeared on M. Costeclar&rsquo;s countenance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do,&#8221; he stammered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Did not M. Villegre call upon you before the war?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He did.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, &lsquo;twas I who sent him to you; and the commands which he
      delivered to you were mine.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yours?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mine.&nbsp; I am Marius de Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A nervous shudder shook M. Costeclar&rsquo;s lean frame.&nbsp; Instinctively his
      eye turned towards the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see,&#8221; Marius went on with the same gentleness, &#8220;we
      are, you and I, old acquaintances.&nbsp; For you quite remember me now,
      don&rsquo;t you?&nbsp; I am the son of that poor Marquis de Tregars who came to
      Paris, all the way from his old Brittany with his whole fortune, &#8212;two
      millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I remember,&#8221; said the stock-broker:&nbsp; &#8220;I remember
      perfectly well.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;On the advice of certain clever people, the Marquis de Tregars
      ventured into business.&nbsp; Poor old man!&nbsp; He was not very sharp.&nbsp;
      He was firmly persuaded that he had already more than doubled his capital,
      when his honorable partners demonstrated to him that he was ruined, and,
      besides, compromised by certain signatures imprudently given.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte was listening, her mouth open, and wondering what Marius
      was aiming at, and how he could remain so calm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That disaster,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;was at the time the
      subject of an enormous number of very witty jokes.&nbsp; The people of the
      bourse could hardly admire enough these bold financiers who had so deftly
      relieved that candid marquis of his money.&nbsp; That was well done for
      him; what was he meddling with?&nbsp; As to myself, to stop the
      prosecutions with which my father was threatened, I gave up all I had.&nbsp;
      I was quite young, and, as you see, quite what you call, I believe,
      &#8216;green.&#8217;&nbsp; I am no longer so now.&nbsp; Were such a thing
      to happen to me to-day, I should want to know at once what had become of
      the millions:&nbsp; I would feel all the pockets around me.&nbsp; I would
      say, &#8216;Stop thief!&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At every word, as it were, M. Costeclar&rsquo;s uneasiness became more manifest.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was not I,&#8221; he said, &#8220;who received the benefit of M.
      de Tregars&rsquo; fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius nodded approvingly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know now,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;among whom the spoils were
      divided.&nbsp; You, M. Costeclar, you took what you could get, timidly,
      and according to your means.&nbsp; Sharks are always accompanied by small
      fishes, to which they abandon the crumbs they disdain.&nbsp; You were but
      a small fish then:&nbsp; you accommodated yourself with what your patrons,
      the sharks, did not care about.&nbsp; But, when you tried to operate
      alone, you were not shrewd enough:&nbsp; you left proofs of your excessive
      appetite for other people&rsquo;s money.&nbsp; Those proofs I have in my
      possession.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar was now undergoing perfect torture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am caught,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I know it:&nbsp; I told M. de
      Villegre so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why are you here, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How did I know that the count had been sent by you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s a poor reason, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Besides, after what has occurred, after Favoral&rsquo;s flight, I thought
      myself relieved of my engagement.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, if you insist upon it, I am wrong, I suppose.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not only you are wrong,&#8221; uttered Marius still perfectly cool,
      &#8220;but you have committed a great imprudence.&nbsp; By failing to keep
      your engagements, you have relieved me of mine.&nbsp; The pact is broken.&nbsp;
      According to the agreement, I have the right, as I leave here, to go
      straight to the police.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar&rsquo;s dull eye was vacillating.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I did not think I was doing wrong,&#8221; he muttered.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Favoral was my friend.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And that&rsquo;s the reason why you were coming to propose to Mlle.
      Favoral to become your mistress?&nbsp; There she is, you thought, without
      resources, literally without bread, without relatives, without friends to
      protect her:&nbsp; this is the time to come forward.&nbsp; And thinking
      you could be cowardly, vile, and infamous with impunity, you came.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To be thus treated, he, the successful man, in presence of this young
      girl, whom, a moment before, he was crushing with his impudent opulence,
      no, M. Costeclar could not stand it.&nbsp; Losing completely his head,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You should have let me know, then,&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;that
      she was your mistress.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Something like a flame passed over M. de Tregars&rsquo; face.&nbsp; His eyes
      flashed.&nbsp; Rising in all the height of his wrath, which broke out
      terrible at last,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, you scoundrel!&#8221; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar threw himself suddenly to one side.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sir!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But at one bound M. de Tregars had caught him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;On your knees!&#8221; he cried.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, seizing him by the collar with an iron grip, he lifted him clear off
      the floor, and then threw him down violently upon both knees.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Speak!&#8221; he commanded.&nbsp; &#8220;Repeat,&#8212;&#8216;Mademoiselle&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar had expected worse from M. de Tregars&rsquo; look.&nbsp; A horrible
      fear had instantly crushed within him all idea of resistance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mademoiselle,&#8221; he stuttered in a choking voice.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      am the vilest of wretches,&#8221; continued Marius.&nbsp; M. Costeclar&rsquo;s
      livid face was oscillating like an inert object.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;the vilest of wretches.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I beg of you&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mlle. Gilberte was sick of the sight.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough,&#8221; she interrupted, &#8220;enough!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Feeling no longer upon his shoulders the heavy hand of M. de Tregars, the
      stock-broker rose with difficulty to his feet.&nbsp; So livid was his
      face, that one might have thought that his whole blood had turned to gall.
    </p>
    <p>
      Dusting with the end of his glove the knees of his trousers, and restoring
      as best he could the harmony of his toilet, which had been seriously
      disturbed,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it showing any courage,&#8221; he grumbled, &#8220;to abuse
      one&rsquo;s physical strength?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had already recovered his self-possession; and Mlle.
      Gilberte thought she could read upon his face regret for his violence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would it be better to make use of what you know?&#8221;&nbsp; M.
      Costeclar joined his hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You would not do that,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;What good would
      it do you to ruin me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;None,&#8221; answered M. de Tregars:&nbsp; &#8220;you are right.&nbsp;
      But yourself?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, looking straight into M. Costeclar&rsquo;s eyes,&#8212;&#8220;If you could
      be of service to me,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;would you be willing?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perhaps.&nbsp; That I might recover possession of the papers you
      have.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was thinking.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;After what has just taken place,&#8221; he said at last, &#8220;an
      explanation is necessary between us.&nbsp; I will be at your house in an
      hour.&nbsp; Wait for me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar had become more pliable than his own lavender kid gloves:&nbsp;
      in fact, alarmingly pliable.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am at your command, sir,&#8221; he replied to M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, bowing to the ground before Mlle. Gilberte, he left the parlor; and,
      a few moments after, the street-door was heard to close upon him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, what a wretch!&#8221; exclaimed the girl, dreadfully agitated.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Marius, did you see what a look he gave us as he went out?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I saw it,&#8221; replied M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That man hates us:&nbsp; he will not hesitate to commit a crime to
      avenge the atrocious humiliation you have just inflicted upon him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe it too.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte made a gesture of distress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why did you treat him so harshly?&#8221; she murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I had intended to remain calm, and it would have been politic to
      have done so.&nbsp; But there are some insults which a man of heart cannot
      endure.&nbsp; I do not regret what I have done.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A long pause followed; and they remained standing, facing each other,
      somewhat embarrassed.&nbsp; Mlle. Gilberte felt ashamed of the disorder of
      her dress.&nbsp; M. de Tregars wondered how he could have been bold enough
      to enter this house.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have heard of our misfortune,&#8221; said the young girl at
      last.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I read about it this morning, in the papers.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What! the papers know already?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Every thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And our name is printed in them?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She covered her face with her two hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What disgrace!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At first,&#8221; went on M. de Tregars, &#8220;I could hardly
      believe what I read.&nbsp; I hastened to come; and the first shopkeeper I
      questioned confirmed only too well what I had seen in the papers.&nbsp;
      From that moment, I had but one wish,&#8212;to see and speak to you.&nbsp;
      When I reached the door, I recognized M. Costeclar&rsquo;s equipage, and I had a
      presentiment of the truth.&nbsp; I inquired from the concierge for your
      mother or your brother, and heard that Maxence had gone out a few moments
      before, and that Mme. Favoral had just left in a carriage with M.
      Chapelain, the old lawyer.&nbsp; At the idea that you were alone with
      Costeclar, I hesitated no longer.&nbsp; I ran up stairs, and, finding the
      door open, had no occasion to ring.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte could hardly repress the sobs that rose to her throat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I never hoped to see you again,&#8221; she stammered; &#8220;and
      you&rsquo;ll find there on the table the letter I had just commenced for you
      when M. Costeclar interrupted me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars took it up quickly.&nbsp; Two lines only were written.&nbsp;
      He read:&nbsp; &#8220;I release you from your engagement, Marius.&nbsp;
      Henceforth you are free.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He became whiter than his shirt.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You wish to release me from my engagement!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp;
      &#8220;You&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it not my duty?&nbsp; Ah! if it had only been our fortune, I
      should perhaps have rejoiced to lose it.&nbsp; I know your heart.&nbsp;
      Poverty would have brought us nearer together.&nbsp; But it&rsquo;s honor,
      Marius, honor that is lost too!&nbsp; The name I bear is forever stained.&nbsp;
      Whether my father is caught, or whether he escapes, he will be tried all
      the same, condemned, and sentenced to a degrading penalty for embezzlement
      and forgery.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      If M. de Tregars was allowing her to proceed thus, it was because he felt
      all his thoughts whirling in his brain; because she looked so beautiful
      thus, all in tears, and her hair loose; because there arose from her
      person so subtle a charm, that words failed him to express the sensations
      that agitated him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can you,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;take for your wife the daughter
      of a dishonored man?&nbsp; No, you cannot.&nbsp; Forgive me, then, for
      having for a moment turned away your life from its object; forgive the
      sorrow which I have caused you; leave me to the misery of my fate; forget
      me!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was suffocating.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, you have never loved me!&#8221; exclaimed Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      Raising her hands to heaven,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thou hearest him, great God!&#8221; she uttered, as if shocked by a
      blasphemy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would it be easy for you to forget me then?&nbsp; Were I to be
      struck by misfortune, would you break our engagement, cease to love me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She ventured to take his hands, and, pressing them between hers,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To cease loving you no longer depends on my will,&#8221; she
      murmured with quivering lips.&nbsp; &#8220;Poor, abandoned of all,
      disgraced, criminal even, I should love you still and always.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a passionate gesture, Marius threw his arm around her waist, and,
      drawing her to his breast, covered her blonde hair with burning kisses.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, &lsquo;tis thus that I love you too!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;and
      with all my soul, exclusively, and for life!&nbsp; What do I care for your
      parents?&nbsp; Do I know them?&nbsp; Your father&#8212;does he exist?&nbsp;
      Your name &#8212;it is mine, the spotless name of the Tregars.&nbsp; You
      are my wife! mine, mine!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was struggling feebly:&nbsp; an almost invincible stupor was creeping
      over her.&nbsp; She felt her reason disturbed, her energy giving way, a
      film before her eyes, the air failing to her heaving chest.
    </p>
    <p>
      A great effort of her will restored her to consciousness.&nbsp; She
      withdrew gently, and sank upon a chair, less strong against joy than she
      had been against sorrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Pardon me,&#8221; she stammered, &#8220;pardon me for having
      doubted you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was not much less agitated than Mlle. Gilberte:&nbsp; but he
      was a man; and the springs of his energy were of a superior temper.&nbsp;
      In less than a minute he had fully recovered his self-possession and
      imposed upon his features their accustomed expression.&nbsp; Drawing a
      chair by the side of Mlle. Gilberte,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Permit me, my friend,&#8221; he said, &#8220;to remind you that our
      moments are numbered, and that there are many details which it is urgent
      that I should know.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What details?&#8221; she asked, raising her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;About your father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She looked at him with an air of profound surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you not know more about it than I do?&#8221; she replied,
      &#8220;more than my mother, more than any of us?&nbsp; Did you not, whilst
      following up the people who robbed your father, strike mine unwittingly?&nbsp;
      And &lsquo;tis I, wretch that I am, who inspired you to that fatal resolution;
      and I have not the heart to regret it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had blushed imperceptibly.&nbsp; &#8220;How did you know?&#8221;
      he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Was it not said that you were about to marry Mlle. de Thaller?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He drew up suddenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never,&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;has this marriage existed,
      except in the brain of M. de Thaller, and, more still, of the Baroness de
      Thaller.&nbsp; That ridiculous idea occurred to her because she likes my
      name, and would be delighted to see her daughter Marquise de Tregars.&nbsp;
      She has never breathed a word of it to me; but she has spoken of it
      everywhere, with just enough secrecy to give rise to a good piece of
      parlor gossip.&nbsp; She went so far as to confide to several persons of
      my acquaintance the amount of the dowry, thinking thus to encourage me.&nbsp;
      As far as I could, I warned you against this false news through the Signor
      Gismondo.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Signor Gismondo relieved me of cruel anxieties,&#8221; she
      replied; &#8220;but I had suspected the truth from the first.&nbsp; Was I
      not the confidante of your hopes?&nbsp; Did I not know your projects?&nbsp;
      I had taken for granted that all this talk about a marriage was but a
      means to advance yourself in M. de Thaller&rsquo;s intimacy without awaking his
      suspicions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was not the man to deny a true fact.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perhaps, indeed, I have not been wholly foreign to M. Favoral&rsquo;s
      disaster.&nbsp; At least I may have hastened it a few months, a few days
      only, perhaps; for it was inevitable, fatal.&nbsp; Nevertheless, had I
      suspected the real facts, I would have given up my designs &#8212;Gilberte,
      I swear it&#8212;rather than risk injuring your father.&nbsp; There is no
      undoing what is done; but the evil may, perhaps, be somewhat lessened.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte started.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Great heavens!&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;do you, then, believe
      my father innocent?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Better than any one else, Mlle. Gilberte must have been convinced of her
      father&rsquo;s guilt.&nbsp; Had she not seen him humiliated and trembling before
      M. de Thaller?&nbsp; Had she not heard him, as it were, acknowledge the
      truth of the charge that was brought against him?&nbsp; But at twenty hope
      never forsakes us, even in presence of facts.
    </p>
    <p>
      And when she understood by M. de Tregars&rsquo; silence that she was mistaken,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s madness,&#8221; she murmured, dropping her head:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I feel it but too well.&nbsp; But the heart speaks louder than
      reason.&nbsp; It is so cruel to be driven to despise one&rsquo;s father!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She wiped the tears which filled her eyes, and, in a firmer voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What happened is so incomprehensible!&#8221; she went on.&nbsp;
      &#8220;How can I help imagining some one of those mysteries which time
      alone unravels.&nbsp; For twenty-four hours we have been losing ourselves
      in idle conjectures, and, always and fatally, we come to this conclusion,
      that my father must be the victim of some mysterious intrigue.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Chapelain, whom a loss of a hundred and sixty thousand
      francs has not made particularly indulgent, is of that opinion.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And so am I,&#8221; exclaimed Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see, then&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But without allowing her to proceed and taking gently her hand,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let me tell you all,&#8221; he interrupted, &#8220;and try with you
      to find an issue to this horrible situation.&nbsp; Strange rumors are
      afloat about M. Favoral.&nbsp; It is said that his austerity was but a
      mask, his sordid economy a means of gaining confidence.&nbsp; It is
      affirmed that in fact he abandoned himself to all sorts of disorders; that
      he had, somewhere in Paris, an establishment, where he lavished the money
      of which he was so sparing here.&nbsp; Is it so?&nbsp; The same thing is
      said of all those in whose hands large fortunes have melted.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The young girl had become quite red.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe that is true,&#8221; she replied.&nbsp; &#8220;The
      commissary of police stated so to us.&nbsp; He found among my father&rsquo;s
      papers receipted bills for a number of costly articles, which could only
      have been intended for a woman.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars looked perplexed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And does any one know who this woman is?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whoever she may be, I admit that she may have cost M. Favoral
      considerable sums.&nbsp; But can she have cost him twelve millions?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Precisely the remark which M. Chapelain made.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And which every sensible man must also make.&nbsp; I know very well
      that to conceal for years a considerable deficit is a costly operation,
      requiring purchases and sales, the handling and shifting of funds, all of
      which is ruinous in the extreme.&nbsp; But, on the other hand, M. Favoral
      was making money, a great deal of money.&nbsp; He was rich:&nbsp; he was
      supposed to be worth millions.&nbsp; Otherwise, Costeclar would never have
      asked your hand.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Chapelain pretends that at a certain time my father had at
      least fifty thousand francs a year.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s bewildering.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For two or three minutes M. de Tregars remained silent, reviewing in his
      mind every imaginable eventuality, and then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But no matter,&#8221; he resumed.&nbsp; &#8220;As soon as I heard
      this morning the amount of the deficit, doubts came to my mind.&nbsp; And
      it is for that reason, dear friend, that I was so anxious to see you and
      speak to you.&nbsp; It would be necessary for me to know exactly what
      occurred here last night.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Rapidly, but without omitting a single useful detail, Mlle. Gilberte
      narrated the scenes of the previous night&#8212;the sudden appearance of
      M. de Thaller, the arrival of the commissary of police, M. Favoral&rsquo;s
      escape, thanks to Maxence&rsquo;s presence of mind.&nbsp; Every one of her
      father&rsquo;s words had remained present to her mind; and it was almost
      literally that she repeated his strange speeches to his indignant friends,
      and his incoherent remarks at the moment of flight, when, whilst
      acknowledging his fault, he said that he was not as guilty as they
      thought; that, at any rate, he was not alone guilty; and that he had been
      shamefully sacrificed.&nbsp; When she had finished,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s exactly what I thought,&#8221; said M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Favoral accepted a role in one of those terrible financial
      dramas which ruin a thousand poor dupes to the benefit of two or three
      clever rascals.&nbsp; Your father wanted to be rich:&nbsp; he needed money
      to carry on his intrigues.&nbsp; He allowed himself to be tempted.&nbsp;
      But whilst he believed himself one of the managers, called upon to divide
      the receipts, he was but a scene-shifter with a stated salary.&nbsp; The
      moment of this denouement having come, his so-called partners disappeared
      through a trap-door with the cash, leaving him alone, as they say, to face
      the music.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If that&rsquo;s the case,&#8221; replied the young girl, &#8220;why
      didn&rsquo;t my father speak?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What was he to say?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Name his accomplices.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose he had no proofs of their complicity to offer?&nbsp; He
      was the cashier of the Mutual Credit; and it is from his cash that the
      millions are gone.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s conjectures had run far ahead of that sentence.&nbsp;
      Looking straight at Marius,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you believe, as M. Chapelain does,
      that M. de Thaller&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah!&nbsp; M. Chapelain thinks&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That the manager of the Mutual Credit must have known the fact of
      the frauds.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And that he had his share of them?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A larger share than his cashier, yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A singular smile curled M. de Tregars&rsquo; lips.&nbsp; &#8220;Quite possible,&#8221;
      he replied:&nbsp; &#8220;that&rsquo;s quite possible.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For the past few moments Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s embarrassment was quite evident
      in her look.&nbsp; At last, overcoming her hesitation,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Pardon me,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I had imagined that M. de
      Thaller was one of those men whom you wished to strike; and I had indulged
      in the hope, that, whilst having justice done to your father, you were
      thinking, perhaps, of avenging mine.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars stood up, as if moved by a spring.&nbsp; &#8220;Well, yes!&#8221;
      he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;Yes, you have correctly guessed.&nbsp; But how
      can we obtain this double result?&nbsp; A single misstep at this moment
      might lose all.&nbsp; Ah, if I only knew your father&rsquo;s real situation; if
      I could only see him and speak to him!&nbsp; In one word he might,
      perhaps, place in my hands a sure weapon,&#8212;the weapon that I have as
      yet been unable to find.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately,&#8221; replied Mlle. Gilberte with a gesture of
      despair, &#8220;we are without news of my father; and he even refused to
      tell us where he expected to take refuge.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But he will write, perhaps.&nbsp; Besides, we might look for him,
      quietly, so as not to excite the suspicions of the police; and if your
      brother Maxence was only willing to help me&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas!&nbsp; I fear that Maxence may have other cares.&nbsp; He
      insisted upon going out this morning, in spite of mother&rsquo;s request to the
      contrary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Marius stopped her, and, in the tone of a man who knows much more than
      he is willing to say,&#8212;&#8220;Do not calumniate Maxence,&#8221; he
      said:&nbsp; &#8220;it is through him, perhaps, that we will receive the
      help that we need.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Eleven o&rsquo;clock struck.&nbsp; Mlle. Gilberte started.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me!&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;mother will be home directly.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars might as well have waited for her.&nbsp; Henceforth he had
      nothing to conceal.&nbsp; Yet, after duly deliberating with the young
      girl, they decided that he should withdraw, and that he would send M. de
      Villegre to declare his intentions.&nbsp; He then left, and, five minutes
      later, Mme. Favoral and M. Chapelain appeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      The ex-attorney was furious; and he threw the package of bank-notes upon
      the table with a movement of rage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In order to return them to M. de Thaller,&#8221; he exclaimed,
      &#8220;it was at least necessary to see him.&nbsp; But the gentleman is
      invisible; keeps himself under lock and key, guarded by a perfect cloud of
      servants in livery.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, Mme. Favoral had approached her daughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your brother?&#8221; she asked in a whisper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He has not yet come home.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me!&#8221; sighed the poor mother:&nbsp; &#8220;at such a time
      he forsakes us, and for whose sake?&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXV
    </h2>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral, usually so indulgent, was too severe this time; and it was
      very unjustly that she accused her son.&nbsp; She forgot, and what mother
      does not forget, that he was twenty-five years of age, that he was a man,
      and that, outside of the family and of herself, he must have his own
      interests and his passions, his affections and his duties.&nbsp; Because
      he happened to leave the house for a few hours, Maxence was surely not
      forsaking either his mother or his sister.&nbsp; It was not without a
      severe internal struggle that he had made up his mind to go out, and, as
      he was going down the steps,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Poor mother,&#8221; he thought.&nbsp; &#8220;I am sure I am making
      her very unhappy; but how can I help it?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the first time that he had been in the street since his farther&rsquo;s
      disaster had been known; and the impression produced upon him was painful
      in the extreme.&nbsp; Formerly, when he walked through the Rue St. Gilles,
      that street where he was born, and where he used to play as a boy, every
      one met him with a friendly nod or a familiar smile.&nbsp; True he was
      then the son of a man rich and highly esteemed; whereas this morning not a
      hand was extended, not a hat raised, on his passage.&nbsp; People
      whispered among themselves, and pointed him out with looks of hatred and
      irony.&nbsp; That was because he was now the son of the dishonest cashier
      tracked by the police, of the man whose crime brought disaster upon so
      many innocent parties.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mortified and ashamed, Maxence was hurrying on, his head down, his cheek
      burning, his throat parched, when, in front of a wine-shop,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Halloo!&#8221; said a man; &#8220;that&rsquo;s the son.&nbsp; What cheek!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And farther on, in front of the grocer&rsquo;s.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I tell you what,&#8221; said a woman in the midst of a group,
      &#8220;they still have more than we have.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then, for the first time, he understood with what crushing weight his
      father&rsquo;s crime would weigh upon his whole life; and, whilst going up the
      Rue Turenne:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s all over,&#8221; he thought:&nbsp; &#8220;I can never get over
      it.&#8221;&nbsp; And he was thinking of changing his name, of emigrating
      to America, and hiding himself in the deserts of the Far West, when, a
      little farther on, he noticed a group of some thirty persons in front of a
      newspaper-stand.&nbsp; The vender, a fat little man with a red face and an
      impudent look, was crying in a hoarse voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here are the morning papers!&nbsp; The last editions!&nbsp; All
      about the robbery of twelve millions by a poor cashier.&nbsp; Buy the
      morning papers!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, to stimulate the sale of his wares, he added all sorts of jokes of
      his own invention, saying that the thief belonged to the neighborhood;
      that it was quite flattering, etc.
    </p>
    <p>
      The crowd laughed; and he went on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The cashier Favoral&rsquo;s robbery! twelve millions!&nbsp; Buy the
      paper, and see how it&rsquo;s done.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And so the scandal was public, irreparable.&nbsp; Maxence was listening a
      few steps off.&nbsp; He felt like going; but an imperative feeling,
      stronger than his will, made him anxious to see what the papers said.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suddenly he made up his mind, and, stepping up briskly, he threw down
      three sous, seized a paper, and ran as if they had all known him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not very polite, the gentleman,&#8221; remarked two idlers whom he
      had pushed a little roughly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Quick as he had been, a shopkeeper of the Rue Turenne had had time to
      recognize him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, that&rsquo;s the cashier&rsquo;s son!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;Is
      it possible?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why don&rsquo;t they arrest him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Half a dozen curious fellows, more eager than the rest, ran after him to
      try and see his face.&nbsp; But he was already far off.
    </p>
    <p>
      Leaning against a gas-lamp on the Boulevard, he unfolded the paper he had
      just bought.&nbsp; He had no trouble looking for the article.&nbsp; In the
      middle of the first page, in the most prominent position, he read in large
      letters,
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;At the moment of going to press, the greatest agitation prevails
        among the stock-brokers and operators at the bourse generally, owing to
        the news that one of our great banking establishments has just been the
        victim of a theft of unusual magnitude.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;At about five o&rsquo;clock in the afternoon, the manager of the Mutual
        Credit Society, having need of some documents, went to look for them in
        the office of the head cashier, who was then absent.&nbsp; A memorandum
        forgotten on the table excited his suspicions.&nbsp; Sending at once for
        a locksmith, he had all the drawers broken open, and soon acquired the
        irrefutable evidence that the Mutual Credit had been defrauded of sums,
        which, as far as now known, amount to upwards of twelve millions.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;At once the police was notified; and M. Brosse, commissary of
        police, duly provided with a warrant, called at the guilty cashier&rsquo;s
        house.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;That cashier, named Favoral,&#8212;we do not hesitate to name
        him, since his name has already been made public,&#8212;had just sat
        down to dinner with some friends.&nbsp; Warned, no one knows how, he
        succeeded in escaping through a window into the yard of the adjoining
        house, and up to this hour has succeeded in eluding all search.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;It seems that these embezzlements had been going on for years,
        but had been skillfully concealed by false entries.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;M.&nbsp; Favoral had managed to secure the esteem of all who knew
        him.&nbsp; He led at home a more than modest existence.&nbsp; But that
        was only, as it were, his official life.&nbsp; Elsewhere, and under
        another name, he indulged in the most reckless expenses for the benefit
        of a woman with whom he was madly in love.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;Who this woman is, is not yet exactly known.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;Some mention a very fascinating young actress, who performs at a
        theatre not a hundred miles from the Rue Vivienne; others, a lady of the
        financial high life, whose equipages, diamonds, and dresses are justly
        famed.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;We might easily, in this respect, give particulars which would
        astonish many people; for we know all; but, at the risk of seeming less
        well informed than some others of our morning contemporaries, we will
        observe a silence which our readers will surely appreciate.&nbsp; We do
        not wish to add, by a premature indiscretion, any thing to the grief of
        a family already so cruelly stricken; for M. Favoral leaves behind him
        in the deepest sorrow a wife and two children,&#8212;a son of
        twenty-five, employed in a railroad office, and a daughter of twenty,
        remarkably handsome, who, a few months ago, came very near marrying M.
        C. &#8212;&#8212;.
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;Next&#8212;&#8221;
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      Tears of rage obscured Maxence&rsquo;s sight whilst reading the last few lines
      of this terrible article.&nbsp; To find himself thus held up to public
      curiosity, though innocent, was more than he could bear.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet he was, perhaps, still more surprised than indignant.&nbsp; He had
      just learned in that paper more than his father&rsquo;s most intimate friends
      knew, more than he knew himself.&nbsp; Where had it got its information?&nbsp;
      And what could be these other details which the writer pretended to know,
      but did not wish to publish as yet?&nbsp; Maxence felt like running to the
      office of the paper, fancying that they could tell him there exactly where
      and under what name M. Favoral led that existence of pleasure and luxury,
      and who the woman was to whom the article alluded.
    </p>
    <p>
      But in the mean time he had reached his hotel,&#8212;the Hotel des Folies.&nbsp;
      After a moment of hesitation,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&#8221; he thought, &#8220;I have the whole day to call at the
      office of the paper.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he started in the corridor of the hotel, a corridor that was so long,
      so dark, and so narrow, that it gave an idea of the shaft of a mine, and
      that it was prudent, before entering it, to make sure that no one was
      coming in the opposite direction.&nbsp; It was from the neighboring
      theatre, des Folies-Nouvelles (now the Theatre Dejazet), that the hotel
      had taken its name.
    </p>
    <p>
      It consists of the rear building of a large old house, and has no frontage
      on the Boulevard, where nothing betrays its existence, except a lantern
      hung over a low and narrow door, between a Caf&eacute; and a
      confectionery-shop.&nbsp; It is one of those hotels, as there are a good
      many in Paris, somewhat mysterious and suspicious, ill-kept, and whose
      profits remain a mystery for simple-minded folks.&nbsp; Who occupy the
      apartments of the first and second story?&nbsp; No one knows.&nbsp; Never
      have the most curious of the neighbors discovered the face of a tenant.&nbsp;
      And yet they are occupied; for often, in the afternoon, a curtain is drawn
      aside, and a shadow is seen to move.&nbsp; In the evening, lights are
      noticed within; and sometimes the sound of a cracked old piano is heard.
    </p>
    <p>
      Above the second story, the mystery ceases.&nbsp; All the upper rooms, the
      price of which is relatively modest, are occupied by tenants who may be
      seen and heard,&#8212;clerks like Maxence, shop-girls from the
      neighborhood, a few restaurant-waiters, and sometimes some poor devil of
      an actor or chorus-singer from the Theatre Dejazet, the Circus, or the
      Chateau d&rsquo;Eau.&nbsp; One of the great advantages of the Hotel des Folies&#8212;and
      Mme. Fortin, the landlady, never failed to point it out to the new
      tenants, an inestimable advantage, she declared&#8212;was a back entrance
      on the Rue Beranger.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And everybody knows,&#8221; she concluded, &#8220;that there is no
      chance of being caught, when one has the good luck of living in a house
      that has two outlets.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      When Maxence entered the office, a small, dark, and dirty room, the
      proprietors, M. and Mme. Fortin were just finishing their breakfast with
      an immense bowl of coffee of doubtful color, of which an enormous red cat
      was taking a share.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, here is M. Favoral!&#8221; they exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was no mistaking their tone.&nbsp; They knew the catastrophe; and
      the newspaper lying on the table showed how they had heard it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Some one called to see you last night,&#8221; said Mme. Fortin, a
      large fat woman, whose nose was always besmeared with snuff, and whose
      honeyed voice made a marked contrast with her bird-of-prey look.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A gentleman of about fifty, tall and thin, with a long overcoat,
      coming down to his heels.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence imagined, from this description, that he recognized his own
      father.&nbsp; And yet it seemed impossible, after what had happened, that
      he should dare to show himself on the Boulevard du Temple, where everybody
      knew him, within a step of the Caf&eacute; Turc, of which he was one of
      the oldest customers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At what o&rsquo;clock was he here?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I really can&rsquo;t tell,&#8221; answered the landlady.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      was half asleep at the time; but Fortin can tell us.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Fortin, who looked about twenty years younger than his wife, was one of
      those small men, blonde, with scanty beard, a suspicious glance, and
      uneasy smile, such as the Madame Fortins know how to find, Heaven knows
      where.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The confectioner had just put up his shutters,&#8221; he replied:&nbsp;
      &#8220;consequently, it must have been between eleven and a quarter-past
      eleven.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And didn&rsquo;t he leave any word?&#8221; said Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing, except that he was very sorry not to find you in.&nbsp;
      And, in fact, he did look quite annoyed.&nbsp; We asked him to leave his
      name; but he said it wasn&rsquo;t worth while, and that he would call again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At the glance which the landlady was throwing toward him from the corner
      of her eyes, Maxence understood that she had on the subject of that late
      visitor the same suspicion as himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as if she had intended to make it more apparent still,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I ought, perhaps, to have given him your key,&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And why so, pray?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t know, an idea of mine, that&rsquo;s all.&nbsp; Besides,
      Mlle. Lucienne can probably tell you more about it; for she was there when
      the gentleman came, and I even think that they exchanged a few words in
      the yard.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence, seeing that they were only seeking a pretext to question him,
      took his key, and inquired,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is&#8212;Mlle. Lucienne at home?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can&rsquo;t tell.&nbsp; She has been going and coming all the morning,
      and I don&rsquo;t know whether she finally staid in or out.&nbsp; One thing is
      sure, she waited for you last night until after twelve; and she didn&rsquo;t
      like it much, I can tell you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence started up the steep stairs; and, as he reached the upper stories,
      a woman&rsquo;s voice, fresh and beautifully toned, reached his ears more and
      more distinctly.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was singing a popular tune,&#8212;one of those songs which are monthly
      put in circulation by the singing Caf&eacute;s&#8212;
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;To hope!&nbsp; O charming word, <br /> Which, during all life,
        <br /> Husband and children and wife <br /> Repeat in common accord!&nbsp;
        <br /> When the moment of success <br /> From us ever further slips, <br />
        &lsquo;Tis Hope from its rosy lips <br /> Whispers, To-morrow you will bless.&nbsp;
        <br /> &lsquo;Tis very nice to run, <br /> But to have is better fun.&#8221;
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is in,&#8221; murmured Maxence, breathing more freely.
    </p>
    <p>
      Reaching the fourth story, he stopped before the door which faced the
      stairs, and knocked lightly.
    </p>
    <p>
      At once, the voice, which had just commenced another verse stopped short,
      and inquired, &#8220;Who&rsquo;s there?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I, Maxence!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At this hour!&#8221; replied the voice with an ironical laugh.&nbsp;
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s lucky.&nbsp; You have probably forgotten that we were to go
      to the theatre last night, and start for St. Germain at seven o&rsquo;clock this
      morning.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t you know then?&#8221;&nbsp; Maxence began, as soon as he
      could put in a word.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know that you did not come home last night.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Quite true.&nbsp; But when I have told you&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What? the lie you have imagined?&nbsp; Save yourself the trouble.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Lucienne, I beg of you, open the door.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Impossible, I am dressing.&nbsp; Go to your own room:&nbsp; as soon
      as I am dressed, I&rsquo;ll join you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, to cut short all these explanations, she took up her song again:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;Hope, I&rsquo;ve waited but too long <br /> For thy manna divine!&nbsp;
        <br /> I&rsquo;ve drunk enough of thy wine, <br /> And I know thy siren song:&nbsp;
        <br /> Waiting for a lucky turn, <br /> I have wasted my best days:&nbsp;
        <br /> Take up thy magic-lantern <br /> And elsewhere display its rays.&nbsp;
        <br /> &lsquo;Tis very nice to run, <br /> But to have is better fun!&#8221;
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <h2>
      XXVI
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was on the opposite side of the landing that what Mme. Fortin pompously
      called &#8220;Maxence&rsquo;s apartment&#8221; was situated.
    </p>
    <p>
      It consisted of a sort of antechamber, almost as large as a handkerchief
      (decorated by the Fortins with the name of dining-room), a bedroom, and a
      closet called a dressing-room in the lease.&nbsp; Nothing could be more
      gloomy than this lodging, in which the ragged paper and soiled paint
      retained the traces of all the wanderers who had occupied it since the
      opening of the Hotel des Folies.&nbsp; The dislocated ceiling was scaling
      off in large pieces; the floor seemed affected with the dry-rot; and the
      doors and windows were so much warped and sprung, that it required an
      effort to close them.&nbsp; The furniture was on a par with the rest.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How everything does wear out!&#8221; sighed Mme. Fortin.&nbsp;
      &#8220;It isn&rsquo;t ten years since I bought that furniture.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In point of fact it was over fifteen, and even then she had bought it
      secondhanded, and almost unfit for use.&nbsp; The curtains retained but a
      vague shade of their original color.&nbsp; The veneer was almost entirely
      off the bedstead.&nbsp; Not a single lock was in order, whether in the
      bureau or the secretary.&nbsp; The rug had become a nameless rag; and the
      broken springs of the sofa, cutting through the threadbare stuff, stood up
      threateningly like knife-blades.
    </p>
    <p>
      The most sumptuous object was an enormous China stove, which occupied
      almost one-half of the hall-dining-room.&nbsp; It could not be used to
      make a fire; for it had no pipe.&nbsp; Nevertheless, Mme. Fortin refused
      obstinately to take it out, under the pretext that it gave such a
      comfortable appearance to the apartment.&nbsp; All this elegance cost
      Maxence forty-five francs a month, and five francs for the service; the
      whole payable in advance from the 1st to the 3d of the month.&nbsp; If, on
      the 4th, a tenant came in without money, Mme. Fortin squarely refused him
      his key, and invited him to seek shelter elsewhere.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have been caught too often,&#8221; she replied to those who tried
      to obtain twenty-four hours&rsquo; grace from her.&nbsp; &#8220;I wouldn&rsquo;t trust
      my own father till the 5th, he who was a superior officer in Napoleon&rsquo;s
      armies, and the very soul of honor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was chance alone which had brought Maxence, after the Commune, to the
      Hotel des Folies; and he had not been there a week, before he had fully
      made up his mind not to wear out Mme. Fortin&rsquo;s furniture very long.&nbsp;
      He had even already found another and more suitable lodging, when, about a
      year ago, a certain meeting on the stairs had modified all his views, and
      lent a charm to his apartment which he did not suspect.
    </p>
    <p>
      As he was going out one morning to his office, he met on the very landing
      a rather tall and very dark girl, who had just come running up stairs.&nbsp;
      She passed before him like a flash, opened the opposite door, and
      disappeared.&nbsp; But, rapid as the apparition had been, it had left in
      Maxence&rsquo;s mind one of those impressions which are never obliterated.&nbsp;
      He could not think of any thing else the whole day; and after
      business-hours, instead of going to dine in Rue St. Gilles, as usual, he
      sent a despatch to his mother to tell her not to wait for him, and bravely
      went home.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was in vain, that, during the whole evening, he kept watch behind
      his door, left slyly ajar:&nbsp; he did not get a glimpse of the neighbor.&nbsp;
      Neither did she show herself on the next or the three following days; and
      Maxence was beginning to despair, when at last, on Sunday, as he was going
      down stairs, he met her again face to face.&nbsp; He had thought her quite
      pretty at the first glance:&nbsp; this time he was dazzled to that extent,
      that he remained for over a minute, standing like a statue against the
      wall.
    </p>
    <p>
      And certainly it was not her dress that helped setting off her beauty.&nbsp;
      She wore a poor dress of black merino, a narrow collar, and plain cuffs,
      and a bonnet of the utmost simplicity.&nbsp; She had nevertheless an air
      of incomparable dignity, a grace that charmed, and yet inspired respect,
      and the carriage of a queen.&nbsp; This was on the 30th of July.&nbsp; As
      he was handing in his key, before leaving,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My apartment suits me well enough,&#8221; said Maxence to Mme.
      Fortin:&nbsp; &#8220;I shall keep it.&nbsp; And here are fifty francs for
      the month of August.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, while the landlady was making out a receipt,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You never told me,&#8221; he began with his most indifferent look,
      &#8220;that I had a neighbor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Fortin straightened herself up like an old warhorse that hears the
      sound of the bugle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, yes!&#8221; she said,&#8212;&#8220;Mademoiselle Lucienne.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Lucienne,&#8221; repeated Maxence:&nbsp; &#8220;that&rsquo;s a pretty
      name.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you seen her?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have just seen her.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s rather good looking.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The worthy landlady jumped on her chair.&nbsp; &#8220;Rather good looking!&#8221;
      she interrupted.&nbsp; &#8220;You must be hard to please, my dear sir; for
      I, who am a judge, I affirm that you might hunt Paris over for four whole
      days without finding such a handsome girl.&nbsp; Rather good looking!&nbsp;
      A girl who has hair that comes down to her knees, a dazzling complexion,
      eyes as big as this, and teeth whiter than that cat&rsquo;s.&nbsp; All right, my
      friend.&nbsp; You&rsquo;ll wear out more than one pair of boots running after
      women before you catch one like her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That was exactly Maxence&rsquo;s opinion; and yet with his coldest look,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Has she been long your tenant, dear Mme. Fortin?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A little over a year.&nbsp; She was here during the siege; and just
      then, as she could not pay her rent, I was, of course, going to send her
      off; but she went straight to the commissary of police, who came here, and
      forbade me to turn out either her or anybody else.&nbsp; As if people were
      not masters in their own house!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That was perfectly absurd!&#8221; objected Maxence, who was
      determined to gain the good graces of the landlady.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never heard of such a thing!&#8221; she went on.&nbsp; &#8220;Compel
      you to lodge people free!&nbsp; Why not feed them too?&nbsp; In short, she
      remained so long, that, after the Commune, she owed me a hundred and
      eighty francs.&nbsp; Then she said, that, if I would let her stay, she
      would pay me each month in advance, besides the rent, ten francs on the
      old account.&nbsp; I agreed, and she has already paid up twenty francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Poor girl!&#8221; said Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mme. Fortin shrugged her shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Really,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;I don&rsquo;t pity her much; for, if
      she only wanted, in forty-eight hours I should be paid, and she would have
      something else on her back besides that old black rag.&nbsp; I tell her
      every day, &#8216;In these days, my child, there is but one reliable
      friend, which is better than all others, and which must be taken as it
      comes, without making any faces if it is a little dirty:&nbsp; that&rsquo;s
      money.&#8217;&nbsp; But all my preaching goes for nothing.&nbsp; I might
      as well sing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was listening with intense delight.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In short, what does she do?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s more than I know,&#8221; replied Mme. Fortin.&nbsp; &#8220;The
      young lady has not much to say.&nbsp; All I know is, that she leaves every
      morning bright and early, and rarely gets home before eleven.&nbsp; On
      Sunday she stays home, reading; and sometimes, in the evening, she goes
      out, always alone, to some theatre or ball.&nbsp; Ah! she is an odd one, I
      tell you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A lodger who came in interrupted the landlady; and Maxence walked off
      dreaming how he could manage to make the acquaintance of his pretty and
      eccentric neighbor.
    </p>
    <p>
      Because he had once spent some hundreds of napoleons in the company of
      young ladies with yellow chignons, Maxence fancied himself a man of
      experience, and had but little faith in the virtue of a girl of twenty,
      living alone in a hotel, and left sole mistress of her own fancy.&nbsp; He
      began to watch for every occasion of meeting her; and, towards the last of
      the month, he had got so far as to bow to her, and to inquire after her
      health.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, the first time he ventured to make love to her, she looked at him
      head to foot, and turned her back upon him with so much contempt, that he
      remained, his mouth wide open, perfectly stupefied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am losing my time like a fool,&#8221; he thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      Great, then, was his surprise, when the following week, on a fine
      afternoon, he saw Mlle. Lucienne leave her room, no longer clad in her
      eternal black dress, but wearing a brilliant and extremely rich toilet.&nbsp;
      With a beating heart he followed her.
    </p>
    <p>
      In front of the Hotel des Folies stood a handsome carriage and horses.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as Mlle. Lucienne appeared, a footman opened respectfully the
      carriage-door.&nbsp; She went in; and the horses started at a full trot.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence watched the carriage disappear in the distance, like a child who
      sees the bird fly upon which he hoped to lay hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Gone,&#8221; he muttered, &#8220;gone!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, when he turned around, he found himself face to face with the
      Fortins, man and wife; who were laughing a sinister laugh.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What did I tell you?&#8221; exclaimed Mme. Fortin.&nbsp; &#8220;There
      she is, started at last.&nbsp; Get up, horse!&nbsp; She&rsquo;ll do well, the
      child.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The magnificent equipage and elegant dress had already produced quite an
      effect among the neighbors.&nbsp; The customers sitting in front of the
      Caf&eacute; were laughing among themselves.&nbsp; The confectioner and his
      wife were casting indignant glances at the proprietors of the Hotel des
      Folies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see, M. Favoral,&#8221; replied Mme. Fortin, &#8220;such a girl
      as that was not made for our neighborhood.&nbsp; You must make up your
      mind to it; you won&rsquo;t see much more of her on the Boulevard du Temple.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Without saying a word, Maxence ran to his room, the hot tears streaming
      from his eyes.&nbsp; He felt ashamed of himself; for, after all, what was
      this girl to him?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is gone!&#8221; he repeated to himself.&nbsp; &#8220;Well,
      good-by, let her go!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, despite all his efforts at philosophy, he felt an immense sadness
      invading his heart:&nbsp; ill-defined regrets and spasms of anger agitated
      him.&nbsp; He was thinking what a fool he had been to believe in the grand
      airs of the young lady, and that, if he had had dresses and horses to give
      her, she might not have received him so harshly.&nbsp; At last he made up
      his mind to think no more of her,&#8212;one of those fine resolutions
      which are always taken, and never kept; and in the evening he left his
      room to go and dine in the Rue St. Gilles.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, as was often his custom, he stopped at the Caf&eacute; next door, and
      called for a drink.&nbsp; He was mixing his absinthe when he saw the
      carriage that had carried off Mlle. Lucienne in the morning returning at a
      rapid gait, and stopping short in front of the hotel.&nbsp; Mlle. Lucienne
      got out slowly, crossed the sidewalk, and entered the narrow corridor.&nbsp;
      Almost immediately, the carriage turned around, and drove off.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What does it mean?&#8221; thought Maxence, who was actually
      forgetting to swallow his absinthe.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was losing himself in absurd conjectures, when, some fifteen minutes
      later, he saw the girl coming out again.&nbsp; Already she had taken off
      her elegant clothes, and resumed her cheap black dress.&nbsp; She had a
      basket on her arm, and was going towards the Rue Chariot.&nbsp; Without
      further reflections, Maxence rose suddenly, and started to follow her,
      being very careful that she should not see him.&nbsp; After walking for
      five or six minutes, she entered a shop, half-eating house, and half
      wine-shop, in the window of which a large sign could be read:&nbsp;
      &#8220;Ordinary at all hours for forty centimes.&nbsp; Hard boiled eggs,
      and salad of the season.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence, having crept up as close as he could, saw Mlle. Lucienne take a
      tin box out of her basket, and have what is called an &#8220;ordinaire&#8221;
      poured into it; that is, half a pint of soup, a piece of beef as large as
      the fist, and a few vegetables.&nbsp; She then had a small bottle
      half-filled with wine, paid, and walked out with that same look of grave
      dignity which she always wore.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Funny dinner,&#8221; murmured Maxence, &#8220;for a woman who was
      spreading herself just now in a ten-thousand-franc carriage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      From that moment she became the sole and only object of his thoughts.&nbsp;
      A passion, which he no longer attempted to resist, was penetrating like a
      subtle poison to the innermost depths of his being.&nbsp; He thought
      himself happy, when, after watching for hours, he caught a glimpse of this
      singular creature, who, after that extraordinary expedition, seemed to
      have resumed her usual mode of life.&nbsp; Mme. Fortin was dumfounded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She has been too exacting,&#8221; she said to Maxence, &#8220;and
      the thing has fallen through.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He made no answer.&nbsp; He felt a perfect horror for the honorable
      landlady&rsquo;s insinuations; and yet he never ceased to repeat to himself that
      he must be a great simpleton to have faith for a moment in that young
      lady&rsquo;s virtue.&nbsp; What would he not have given to be able to question
      her?&nbsp; But he dared not.&nbsp; Often he would gather up his courage,
      and wait for her on the stairs; but, as soon as she fixed upon him her
      great black eye, all the phrases he had prepared took flight from his
      brain, his tongue clove to his mouth, and he could barely succeed in
      stammering out a timid,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Good-morning, mademoiselle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He felt so angry with himself, that he was almost on the point of leaving
      the Hotel des Folies, when one evening:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; said Mme. Fortin to him, &#8220;all is made up again,
      it seems.&nbsp; The beautiful carriage called again to-day.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence could have beaten her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What good would it do you,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;if Lucienne
      were to turn out badly?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s always a pleasure,&#8221; she grumbled, &#8220;to have one
      more woman to torment the men.&nbsp; Those are the girls, you see, who
      avenge us poor honest women!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The sequel seemed at first to justify her worst previsions.&nbsp; Three
      times during that week, Mlle. Lucienne rode out in grand style; but as she
      always returned, and always resumed her eternal black woolen dress,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I can&rsquo;t make head or tail of it,&#8221; thought Maxence.&nbsp;
      &#8220;But never mind, I&rsquo;ll clear the matter up yet.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He applied, and obtained leave of absence; and from the very next day he
      took up a position behind the window of the adjoining Caf&eacute;.&nbsp;
      On the first day he lost his time; but on the second day, at about three
      o&rsquo;clock, the famous equipage made its appearance; and, a few moments
      later, Mlle. Lucienne took a seat in it.&nbsp; Her toilet was richer, and
      more showy still, than the first time.&nbsp; Maxence jumped into a cab.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see that carriage,&#8221; he said to the coachman, &#8220;Wherever
      it goes, you must follow it.&nbsp; I give ten francs extra pay.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All right!&#8221; replied the driver, whipping up his horses.
    </p>
    <p>
      And much need he had, too, of whipping them; for the carriage that carried
      off Mlle. Lucienne started at full trot down the Boulevards, to the
      Madeleine, then along the Rue Royale, and through the Place de la
      Concorde, to the Avenue des Champs-Elysees, where the horses were brought
      down to a walk.&nbsp; It was the end of September, and one of those lovely
      autumnal days which are a last smile of the blue sky and the last caress
      of the sun.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were races in the Bois de Boulogne; and the equipages were five and
      six abreast on the avenue.&nbsp; The side-alleys were crowded with idlers.&nbsp;
      Maxence, from the inside of his cab, never lost sight of Mlle. Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was evidently creating a sensation.&nbsp; The men stopped to look at
      her with gaping admiration:&nbsp; the women leaned out of their carriages
      to see her better.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where can she be going?&#8221;&nbsp; Maxence wondered.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was going to the Bois; and soon her carriage joined the interminable
      line of equipages which were following the grand drive at a walk.&nbsp; It
      became easier now to follow on foot.&nbsp; Maxence sent off his cab to
      wait for him at a particular spot, and took the pedestrians&rsquo; road, that
      follows the edge of the lakes.&nbsp; He had not gone fifty steps, however,
      before he heard some one call him.&nbsp; He turned around, and, within two
      lengths of his cane, saw M. Saint Pavin and M. Costeclar.&nbsp; Maxence
      hardly knew M. Saint Pavin, whom he had only seen two or three times in
      the Rue St. Gilles, and execrated M. Costeclar.&nbsp; Still he advanced
      towards them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s carriage was now caught in the file; and he was sure of
      joining it whenever he thought proper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a miracle to see you here, my dear Maxence!&#8221; exclaimed
      M. Costeclar, loud enough to attract the attention of several persons.
    </p>
    <p>
      To occupy the attention of others, anyhow and at any cost, was M.
      Costeclar&rsquo;s leading object in life.&nbsp; That was evident from the style
      of his dress, the shape of his hat, the bright stripes of his shirt, his
      ridiculous shirt-collar, his cuffs, his boots, his gloves, his cane, every
      thing, in fact.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If you see us on foot,&#8221; he added, &#8220;it is because we
      wanted to walk a little.&nbsp; The doctor&rsquo;s prescription, my dear.&nbsp;
      My carriage is yonder, behind those trees.&nbsp; Do you recognize my
      dapple-grays?&#8221;&nbsp; And he extended his cane in that direction, as
      if he were addressing himself, not to Maxence alone, but to all those who
      were passing by.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, very well! everybody knows you have a carriage,&#8221;
      interrupted M. Saint Pavin.
    </p>
    <p>
      The editor of &#8220;The Financial Pilot&#8221; was the living contrast of
      his companion.&nbsp; More slovenly still than M. Costeclar was careful of
      his dress, he exhibited cynically a loose cravat rolled over a shirt worn
      two or three days, a coat white with lint and plush, muddy boots, though
      it had not rained for a week, and large red hands, surprisingly filthy.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was but the more proud; and he wore, cocked up to one side, a hat that
      had not known a brush since the day it had left the hatter&rsquo;s.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That fellow Costeclar,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;he won&rsquo;t believe
      that there are in France a number of people who live and die without ever
      having owned a horse or a coupe; which is a fact, nevertheless.&nbsp;
      Those fellows who were born with fifty or sixty thousand francs&rsquo; income in
      their baby-clothes are all alike.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The unpleasant intention was evident; but M. Costeclar was not the man to
      get angry for such a trifle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are in bad humor to-day, old fellow,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; The
      editor of &#8220;The Financial Pilot&#8221; made a threatening gesture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, yes,&#8221; he answered, &#8220;I am in bad humor, like a man
      who for ten years past has been beating the drum in front of your d&#8212;d
      financial shops, and who does not pay expenses.&nbsp; Yes, for ten years I
      have shouted myself hoarse for your benefit:&nbsp; &#8216;Walk in, ladies
      and gentlemen, and, for every twenty-cent-piece you deposit with us, we
      will return you a five-franc-piece.&nbsp; Walk in, follow the crowd, step
      up to the office:&nbsp; this is the time.&#8217;&nbsp; They go in.&nbsp;
      You receive mountains of twenty-cent-pieces:&nbsp; you never return
      anything, neither a five-franc-piece, nor even a centime.&nbsp; The trick
      is done, the public is sold.&nbsp; You drive your own carriage; you
      suspend diamonds to your mistress&rsquo; ears; and I, the organizer of success,
      whose puffs open the tightest closed pockets, and start up the old louis
      from the bottom of the old woolen stocking,&#8212;I am driven to have my
      boots half-soled.&nbsp; You stint me my existence; you kick as soon as I
      ask you to pay for the big drums bursted in your behalf.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He spoke so loud, that three or four idlers had stopped.&nbsp; Without
      being very shrewd, Maxence understood readily that he had happened in the
      midst of an acrimonious discussion.&nbsp; Closely pressed, and desirous of
      gaining time, M. Costeclar had called him in the hopes of effecting a
      diversion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Bowing, therefore, politely,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Excuse me, gentlemen,&#8221; he said:&nbsp; &#8220;I fear I have
      interrupted you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. Costeclar detained him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t go,&#8221; he declared; &#8220;you must come down and take a
      glass of Madeira with us, down at the Cascade.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, turning to the editor of &#8220;The Pilot&#8221;:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, now, shut up,&#8221; he said:&nbsp; &#8220;you shall have
      what you want.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Really?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Upon my word.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I&rsquo;d rather have two or three lines in black and white.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I&rsquo;ll give them to you to-night.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All right, then!&nbsp; Forward the big guns!&nbsp; Look out for
      next Sunday&rsquo;s number!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Peace being made, the gentlemen continued their walk in the most friendly
      manner, M. Costeclar pointing out to Maxence all the celebrities who were
      passing by them in their carriages.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had just designated to his attention Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller,
      accompanied by two gigantic footmen, when, suddenly interrupting himself,
      and rising on tiptoe,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sacre bleu!&#8221; he exclaimed:&nbsp; &#8220;what a handsome
      woman!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Without too much affectation, Maxence fell back a step or two.&nbsp; He
      felt himself blushing to his very ears, and trembled lest his sudden
      emotion were noticed, and he were questioned; for it was Mlle. Lucienne
      who thus excited M. Costeclar&rsquo;s noisy enthusiasm.&nbsp; Once already she
      had been around the lake; and she was continuing her circular drive.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Positively,&#8221; approved the editor of &#8220;The Financial
      Pilot,&#8221; &#8220;she is somewhat better than the rest of those ladies
      we have just seen going by.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Costeclar was on the point of pulling out what little hair he had left.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I don&rsquo;t know her!&#8221; he went on.&nbsp; &#8220;A lovely
      woman rides in the Bois, and I don&rsquo;t know who she is!&nbsp; That is
      ridiculous and prodigious!&nbsp; Who can post us?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A little ways off stood a group of gentlemen, who had also just left their
      carriages, and were looking on this interminable procession of equipages
      and this amazing display of toilets.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They are friends of mine,&#8221; said M. Costeclar:&nbsp; &#8220;let
      us join them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They did so; and, after the usual greetings,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who is that?&#8221; inquired M. Costeclar,&#8212;&#8220;that dark
      person, whose carriage follows Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      An old young man, with scanty hair, dyed beard, and a most impudent smile,
      answered him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s just what we are trying to find out.&nbsp; None of us have
      ever seen her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must and shall find out,&#8221; interrupted M. Costeclar.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I have a very intelligent servant.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Already he was starting in the direction of the spot where his carriage
      was waiting for him.&nbsp; The old beau stopped him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t bother yourself, my dear friend,&#8221; he said.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I have also a servant who is no fool; and he has had orders for
      over fifteen minutes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The others burst out laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Distanced, Costeclar!&#8221; exclaimed M. Saint Pavin, who,
      notwithstanding his slovenly dress and cynic manners, seemed perfectly
      well received.
    </p>
    <p>
      No one was now paying any attention to Maxence; and he slipped off without
      the slightest care as to what M. Costeclar might think.&nbsp; Reaching the
      spot where his cab awaited him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Which way, boss?&#8221; inquired the driver.&nbsp; Maxence
      hesitated.&nbsp; What better had he to do than to go home?&nbsp; And yet .
      . .
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We&rsquo;ll wait for that same carriage,&#8221; he answered; &#8220;and
      we&rsquo;ll follow it on the return.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he learned nothing further.&nbsp; Mlle. Lucienne drove straight to the
      Boulevard du Temple, and, as before, immediately resumed her eternal black
      dress; and Maxence saw her go to the little restaurant for her modest
      dinner.
    </p>
    <p>
      But he saw something else too.
    </p>
    <p>
      Almost on the heels of the girl, a servant in livery entered the hotel
      corridor, and only went off after remaining a full quarter of an hour in
      busy conference with Mme. Fortin.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s all over,&#8221; thought the poor fellow.&nbsp; &#8220;Lucienne
      will not be much longer my neighbor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was mistaken.&nbsp; A month went by without bringing about any change.&nbsp;
      As in the past, she went out early, came home late, and on Sundays
      remained alone all day in her room.&nbsp; Once or twice a week, when the
      weather was fine, the carriage came for her at about three o&rsquo;clock, and
      brought her home at nightfall.&nbsp; Maxence had exhausted all
      conjectures, when one evening, it was the 31st of October, as he was
      coming in to go to bed, he heard a loud sound of voices in the office of
      the hotel.&nbsp; Led by an instinctive curiosity, he approached on tiptoe,
      so as to see and hear every thing.&nbsp; The Fortins and Mlle. Lucienne
      were having a great discussion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s all nonsense,&#8221; shrieked the worthy landlady; &#8220;and
      I mean to be paid.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne was quite calm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; she replied:&nbsp; &#8220;don&rsquo;t I pay you?&nbsp; Here
      are forty francs, &#8212;thirty in advance for my room, and ten on the old
      account.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I don&rsquo;t want your ten francs!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you want, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah,&#8212;the hundred and fifty francs which you owe me still.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The girl shrugged her shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You forget our agreement,&#8221; she uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Our agreement?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&nbsp; After the Commune, it was understood that I would give
      you ten francs a month on the old account; as long as I give them to you,
      you have nothing to ask.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Crimson with rage, Mme. Fortin had risen from her seat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Formerly,&#8221; she interrupted, &#8220;I presumed I had to deal
      with a poor working-girl, an honest girl.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the insult.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have not the amount you ask,&#8221; she said coldly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, then,&#8221; vociferated the other, &#8220;you must go and
      ask it of those who pay for your carriages and your dresses.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Still impassible, the girl, instead of answering, stretched her hand
      towards her key; but M. Fortin stopped her arm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, no!&#8221; he said with a giggle.&nbsp; &#8220;People who don&rsquo;t
      pay their hotel-bill sleep out, my darling.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence, that very morning, had received his month&rsquo;s pay, and he felt, as
      it were, his two hundred francs trembling in his pockets.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yielding to a sudden inspiration, he threw open the office-door, and,
      throwing down one hundred and fifty francs upon the table,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here is your money, wretch!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; And he
      withdrew at once.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXVII
    </h2>
    <p>
      Maxence had not spoken to Mlle. Lucienne for nearly a month.&nbsp; He
      tried to persuade himself that she despised him because he was poor.&nbsp;
      He kept watching for her, for he could not help it; but as much as
      possible he avoided her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall be miserable,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;the day when she
      does not come home; and yet it would be the very best thing that could
      happen for me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Nevertheless, he spent all his time trying to find some explanations for
      the conduct of this strange girl, who, beneath her woolen dress, had the
      haughty manners of a great lady.&nbsp; Then he delighted to imagine
      between her and himself some of those subjects of confidence, some of
      those facilities which chance never fails to supply to attentive passion,
      or some event which would enable him to emerge from his obscurity, and to
      acquire some rights by virtue of some great service rendered.
    </p>
    <p>
      But never had he dared to hope for an occasion as propitious as the one he
      had just seized.&nbsp; And yet, after he had returned to his room, he
      hardly dared to congratulate himself upon the promptitude of his decision.&nbsp;
      He knew too well Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s excessive pride and sensitive nature.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I should not be surprised if she were angry with me for what I&rsquo;ve
      done,&#8221; he thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      The evening being quite chilly, he had lighted a few sticks; and, sitting
      by the fireside, he was waiting, his mind filled with vague hopes.&nbsp;
      It seemed to him that his neighbor could not absolve herself from coming
      to thank him; and he was listening intently to all the noises of the
      house, starting at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and at the
      slamming of doors.&nbsp; Ten times, at least, he went out on tiptoe to
      lean out of the window on the landing, to make sure that there was no
      light in Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s room.&nbsp; At eleven o&rsquo;clock she had not yet
      come home; and he was deliberating whether he would not start out in quest
      of information, when there was a knock at the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come in!&#8221; he cried, in a voice choked with emotion.&nbsp;
      Mlle. Lucienne came in.&nbsp; She was somewhat paler than usual, but calm
      and perfectly self-possessed.&nbsp; Having bowed without the slightest
      shade of embarrassment, she laid upon the mantel-piece the thirty
      five-franc-notes which Maxence had thrown down to the Fortins; and, in her
      most natural tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here are your hundred and fifty francs, sir,&#8221; she uttered.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I am more grateful than I can express for your prompt kindness in
      lending them to me; but I did not need them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had risen from his seat, and was making every effort to control
      his own feelings.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Still,&#8221; he began, &#8220;after what I heard&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes,&#8221; she interrupted, &#8220;Mme. Fortin and her husband
      were trying to frighten me.&nbsp; But they were losing their time.&nbsp;
      When, after the Commune, I settled with them the manner in which I would
      discharge my debt towards them, having a just estimate of their worth, I
      made them write out and sign our agreement.&nbsp; Being in the right, I
      could resist them, and was resisting them when you threw them those
      hundred and fifty francs.&nbsp; Having laid hands upon them, they had the
      pretension to keep them.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s what I could not suffer.&nbsp; Not
      being able to recover them by main force, I went at once to the commissary
      of police.&nbsp; He was luckily at his office.&nbsp; He is an honest man,
      who already, once before, helped me out of a scrape.&nbsp; He listened to
      me kindly, and was moved by my explanations.&nbsp; Notwithstanding the
      lateness of the hour, he put on his overcoat, and came with me to see our
      landlord.&nbsp; After compelling them to return me your money, he
      signified to them to observe strictly our agreement, under penalty of
      incurring his utmost severity.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was wonderstruck.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How could you dare?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Wasn&rsquo;t I in the right?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, a thousand times yes!&nbsp; Still&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What?&nbsp; Should my right be less respected because I am but a
      woman?&nbsp; And, because I have no one to protect me, am I outside the
      law, and condemned in advance to suffer the iniquitous fancies of every
      scoundrel?&nbsp; No, thank Heaven!&nbsp; Henceforth I shall feel easy.&nbsp;
      People like the Fortins, who live off I know not what shameful traffic,
      have too much to fear from the police to dare to molest me further.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The resentment of the insult could be read in her great black eyes; and a
      bitter disgust contracted her lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Besides,&#8221; she added, &#8220;the commissary had no need of my
      explanations to understand what abject inspirations the Fortins were
      following.&nbsp; The wretches had in their pocket the wages of their
      infamy.&nbsp; In refusing me my key, in throwing me out in the street at
      ten o&rsquo;clock at night, they hoped to drive me to seek the assistance of the
      base coward who paid their odious treason.&nbsp; And we know the price
      which men demand for the slightest service they render to a woman.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence turned pale.&nbsp; The idea flashed upon his mind that it was to
      him, perhaps, that these last words were addressed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, I swear it!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;it is without
      after-thought that I tried to help you.&nbsp; You do not owe me any thanks
      even.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not thank you any the less, though,&#8221; she said gently,
      &#8220;and from the bottom of my heart.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was so little!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Intention alone makes the value of a service, neighbor.&nbsp; And,
      besides, do not say that a hundred and fifty francs are nothing to you:&nbsp;
      perhaps you do not earn much more each month.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I confess it,&#8221; he said, blushing a little.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see, then?&nbsp; No, it was not to you that my words were
      addressed, but to the man who has paid the Fortins.&nbsp; He was waiting
      on the Boulevard, the result of the manoeuvre, which, they thought, was
      about to place me at his mercy.&nbsp; He ran quickly to me when I went
      out, and followed me all the way to the office of the commissary of
      police, as he follows me everywhere for the past month, with his sickening
      gallantries and his degrading propositions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The eye flashing with anger,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, if I had known!&#8221; exclaimed Maxence.&nbsp; &#8220;If you
      had told me but a word!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She smiled at his vehemence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What would you have done?&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;You cannot
      impart intelligence to a fool, heart to a coward, or delicacy of feeling
      to a boor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I could have chastised the miserable insulter.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She had a superb gesture of indifference.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&#8221; she interrupted.&nbsp; &#8220;What are insults to me?&nbsp;
      I am so accustomed to them, that they no longer have any effect upon me.&nbsp;
      I am eighteen:&nbsp; I have neither family, relatives, friends, nor any
      one in the world who even knows my existence; and I live by my labor.&nbsp;
      Can&rsquo;t you see what must be the humiliations of each day?&nbsp; Since I was
      eight years old, I have been earning the bread I eat, the dress I wear,
      and the rent of the den where I sleep.&nbsp; Can you understand what I
      have endured, to what ignominies I have been exposed, what traps have been
      set for me, and how it has happened to me sometimes to owe my safety to
      mere physical force?&nbsp; And yet I do not complain, since through it all
      I have been able to retain the respect of myself, and to remain virtuous
      in spite of all.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was laughing a laugh that had something wild in it.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as Maxence was looking at her with immense surprise,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That seems strange to you, doesn&rsquo;t it?&#8221; she resumed.&nbsp;
      &#8220;A girl of eighteen, without a sou, free as air, very pretty, and
      yet virtuous in the midst of Paris.&nbsp; Probably you don&rsquo;t believe it,
      or, if you do, you just think, &#8216;What on earth does she make by it?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And really you are right; for, after all, who cares, and who thinks
      any the more of me, if I work sixteen hours a day to remain virtuous?&nbsp;
      But it&rsquo;s a fancy of my own; and don&rsquo;t imagine for a moment that I am
      deterred by any scruples, or by timidity, or ignorance.&nbsp; No, no!&nbsp;
      I believe in nothing.&nbsp; I fear nothing; and I know as much as the
      oldest libertines, the most vicious, and the most depraved.&nbsp; And I
      don&rsquo;t say that I have not been tempted sometimes, when, coming home from
      work, I&rsquo;d see some of them coming out of the restaurants, splendidly
      dressed, on their lover&rsquo;s arm, and getting into carriages to go to the
      theatre.&nbsp; There were moments when I was cold and hungry, and when,
      not knowing where to sleep, I wandered all night through the streets like
      a lost dog.&nbsp; There were hours when I felt sick of all this misery,
      and when I said to myself, that, since it was my fate to end in the
      hospital, I might as well make the trip gayly.&nbsp; But what!&nbsp; I
      should have had to traffic my person, to sell myself!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shuddered, and in a hoarse voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I would rather die,&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was difficult to reconcile words such as these with certain
      circumstances of Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s existence,&#8212;her rides around the
      lake, for instance, in that carriage that came for her two or three times
      a week; her ever renewed costumes, each time more eccentric and more
      showy.&nbsp; But Maxence was not thinking of that.&nbsp; What she told him
      he accepted as absolutely true and indisputable.&nbsp; And he felt
      penetrated with an almost religious admiration for this young and
      beautiful girl, possessed of so much vivid energy, who alone, through the
      hazards, the perils, and the temptations of Paris, had succeeded in
      protecting and defending herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; he said, &#8220;without suspecting it, you had a
      friend near you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shuddered; and a pale smile flitted upon her lips.&nbsp; She knew well
      enough what friendship means between a youth of twenty-five and a girl of
      eighteen.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A friend!&#8221; she murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence guessed her thought; and, in all the sincerity of his soul,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, a friend,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;a comrade, a brother.&#8221;&nbsp;
      And thinking to touch her, and gain her confidence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I could understand you,&#8221; he added; &#8220;for I, too, have
      been very unhappy.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he was singularly mistaken.&nbsp; She looked at him with an astonished
      air, and slowly,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You unhappy!&#8221; she uttered,&#8212;&#8220;you who have a
      family, relations, a mother who adores you, a sister.&#8221;&nbsp; Less
      excited, Maxence might have wondered how she had found this out, and would
      have concluded that she must feel some interest in him, since she had
      doubtless taken the trouble of getting information.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Besides, you are a man,&#8221; she went on; &#8220;and I do not
      understand how a man can complain.&nbsp; Have you not the freedom, the
      strength, and the right to undertake and to dare any thing?&nbsp; Isn&rsquo;t
      the world open to your activity and to your ambition?&nbsp; Woman submits
      to her fate:&nbsp; man makes his.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This was hurting the dearest pretensions of Maxence, who seriously thought
      that he had exhausted the rigors of adversity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There are circumstances,&#8221; he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      But she shrugged her shoulders gently, and, interrupting him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not insist,&#8221; she said, &#8220;or else I might think that
      you lack energy.&nbsp; What are you talking of circumstances?&nbsp; There
      are none so adverse but that can be overcome.&nbsp; What would you like,
      then?&nbsp; To be born with a hundred thousand francs a year, and have
      nothing to do but to live according to your whim of each day, idle,
      satiated, a burden upon yourself, useless, or offensive to others?&nbsp;
      Ah!&nbsp; If I were a man, I would dream of another fate.&nbsp; I should
      like to start from the Foundling Asylum, without a name, and by my will,
      my intelligence, my daring, and my labor, make something and somebody of
      myself.&nbsp; I would start from nothing, and become every thing!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With flashing eyes and quivering nostrils, she drew herself up proudly.&nbsp;
      But almost at once, dropping her head,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The misfortune is,&#8221; she added, &#8220;that I am but a woman;
      and you who complain, if you only knew&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She sat down, and with her elbow on the little table, her head resting
      upon her hand, she remained lost in her meditations, her eyes fixed, as if
      following through space all the phases of the eighteen years of her life.
    </p>
    <p>
      There is no energy but unbends at some given moment, no will but has its
      hour of weakness; and, strong and energetic as was Mlle. Lucienne, she had
      been deeply touched by Maxence&rsquo;s act.&nbsp; Had she, then, found at last
      upon her path the companion of whom she had often dreamed in the
      despairing hours of solitude and wretchedness?&nbsp; After a few moments,
      she raised her head, and, looking into Maxence&rsquo;s eyes with a gaze that
      made him quiver like the shock of an electric battery,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Doubtless,&#8221; she said, in a tone of indifference somewhat
      forced, &#8220;you think you have in me a strange neighbor.&nbsp; Well, as
      between neighbors; it is well to know each other.&nbsp; Before you judge
      me, listen.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The recommendation was useless.&nbsp; Maxence was listening with all the
      powers of his attention.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was brought up,&#8221; she began, &#8220;in a village of the
      neighborhood of Paris,&#8212;in Louveciennes.&nbsp; My mother had put me
      out to nurse with some honest gardeners, poor, and burdened with a large
      family.&nbsp; After two months, hearing nothing of my mother, they wrote
      to her:&nbsp; she made no answer.&nbsp; They then went to Paris, and
      called at the address she had given them.&nbsp; She had just moved out;
      and no one knew what had become of her.&nbsp; They could no longer,
      therefore, expect a single sou for the cares they would bestow upon me.&nbsp;
      They kept me, nevertheless, thinking that one child the more would not
      make much difference.&nbsp; I know nothing of my parents, therefore,
      except what I heard through these kind gardeners; and, as I was still
      quite young when I had the misfortune to lose them, I have but a very
      vague remembrance of what they told me.&nbsp; I remember very well,
      however, that according to their statements, my mother was a young
      working-woman of rare beauty, and that, very likely, she was not my
      father&rsquo;s wife.&nbsp; If I was ever told the name of my mother or my
      father, if I ever knew it, I have quite forgotten it.&nbsp; I had myself
      no name.&nbsp; My adopted parents called me the Parisian.&nbsp; I was
      happy, nevertheless, with these kind people, and treated exactly like
      their own children.&nbsp; In winter, they sent me to school; in summer, I
      helped weeding the garden.&nbsp; I drove a sheep or two along the road, or
      else I went to gather violets and strawberries through the woods.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This was the happiest, indeed, the only happy time of my life,
      towards which my thoughts may turn when I feel despair and discouragement
      getting the better of me.&nbsp; Alas!&nbsp; I was but eight, when, within
      the same week, the gardener and his wife were both carried off by the same
      disease,&#8212;inflammation of the lungs.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;On a freezing December morning, in that house upon which the hand
      of death had just fallen, we found ourselves, six children, the oldest of
      whom was not eleven, crying with grief, fright, cold, and hunger.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Neither the gardener nor his wife had any relatives; and they left
      nothing but a few wretched pieces of furniture, the sale of which barely
      sufficed to pay the expenses of their funeral.&nbsp; The two younger
      children were taken to an asylum:&nbsp; the others were taken charge of by
      the neighbors.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was a laundress of Marly who took me.&nbsp; I was quite tall and
      strong for my age.&nbsp; She made an apprentice of me.&nbsp; She was not
      unkind by nature; but she was violent and brutal in the extreme.&nbsp; She
      compelled me to do an excessive amount of work, and often of a kind above
      my strength.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fifty times a day, I had to go from the river to the house,
      carrying on my shoulders enormous bundles of wet napkins or sheets, wring
      them, spread them out, and then run to Rueil to get the soiled clothes
      from the customers.&nbsp; I did not complain (I was already too proud to
      complain); but, if I was ordered to do something that seemed to me too
      unjust, I refused obstinately to obey, and then I was unmercifully beaten.&nbsp;
      In spite of all, I might, perhaps, have become attached to the woman, had
      she not had the disgusting habit of drinking.&nbsp; Every week regularly,
      on the day when she took the clothes to Paris (it was on Wednesdays), she
      came home drunk.&nbsp; And then, according as, with the fumes of the wine,
      anger or gayety rose to her brain, there were atrocious scenes or obscene
      jests.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When she was in that condition, she inspired me with horror.&nbsp;
      And one Wednesday, as I showed my feelings too plainly, she struck me so
      hard, that she broke my arm.&nbsp; I had been with her for twenty months.&nbsp;
      The injury she had done me sobered her at once.&nbsp; She became
      frightened, overpowered me with caresses, begging me to say nothing to any
      one.&nbsp; I promised, and kept faithfully my word.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But a physician had to be called in.&nbsp; There had been witnesses
      who spoke.&nbsp; The story spread along the river, as far as Bougival and
      Rueil.&nbsp; And one morning an officer of gendarmes called at the house;
      and I don&rsquo;t exactly know what would have happened, if I had not
      obstinately maintained that I had broken my arm in falling down stairs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      What surprised Maxence most was Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s simple and natural tone.&nbsp;
      No emphasis, scarcely an appearance of emotion.&nbsp; One might have
      thought it was somebody&rsquo;s else life that she was narrating.&nbsp; Meantime
      she was going on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thanks to my obstinate denials the woman was not disturbed.&nbsp;
      But the truth was known; and her reputation, which was not good before,
      became altogether bad.&nbsp; I became an object of interest.&nbsp; The
      very same people who had seen me twenty times staggering painfully under a
      load of wet clothes, which was terrible, began to pity me prodigiously
      because I had had an arm broken, which was nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At last a number of our customers arranged to take me out of a
      house, in which, they said, I must end by perishing under bad treatment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, after many fruitless efforts, they discovered, at last, at La
      Jonchere, an old Jewess lady, very rich, and a widow without children, who
      consented to take charge of me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I hesitated at first to accept these offers; but noticing that the
      laundress, since she had hurt me, had conceived a still greater aversion
      for me, I made up my mind to leave her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was on the day when I was introduced to my new mistress that I
      first discovered I had no name.&nbsp; After examining me at length,
      turning me around and around, making me walk, and sit down, &#8216;Now,&#8217;
      she inquired, &#8216;what is your name?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I stared at her in surprise; for indeed I was then like a savage,
      not having the slightest notions of the things of life.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;My name is the Parisian,&#8217; I replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She burst out laughing, as also another old lady, a friend of hers,
      who assisted at my presentation; and I remember that my little pride was
      quite offended at their hilarity.&nbsp; I thought they were laughing at
      me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;That&rsquo;s not a name,&#8217; they said at last.&nbsp; &#8216;That&rsquo;s
      a nickname.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I have no other.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They seemed dumfounded, repeating over and over that such a thing
      was unheard of; and on the spot they began to look for a name for me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Where were you born?&#8217; inquired my new mistress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;At Louveciennes.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Very well,&#8217; said the other:&nbsp; &#8216;let us call
      her Louvecienne.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A long discussion followed, which irritated me so much that I felt
      like running away; and it was agreed at last, that I should be called, not
      Louvecienne, but Lucienne; and Lucienne I have remained.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There was nothing said about baptism, since my new mistress was a
      Jewess.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She was an excellent woman, although the grief she had felt at the
      loss of her husband had somewhat deranged her faculties.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As soon as it was decided that I was to remain, she desired to
      inspect my trousseau.&nbsp; I had none to show her, possessing nothing in
      the world but the rags on my back.&nbsp; As long as I had remained with
      the laundress, I had finished wearing out her old dresses; and I had never
      worn any other under-clothing save that which I borrowed, &#8216;by
      authority,&#8217; from the clients,&#8212;an economical system adopted by
      many laundresses.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dismayed at my state of destitution, my new mistress sent for a
      seamstress, and at once ordered wherewith to dress and change me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Since the death of the poor gardeners, this was the first time that
      any one paid any attention to me, except to exact some service of me.&nbsp;
      I was moved to tears; and, in the excess of my gratitude, I would gladly
      have died for that kind old lady.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This feeling gave me the courage and the constancy required to bear
      with her whimsical nature.&nbsp; She had singular manias, disconcerting
      fancies, ridiculous and often exorbitant exactions.&nbsp; I lent myself to
      it all as best I could.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As she already had two servants, a cook and a chambermaid, I had
      myself no special duties in the house.&nbsp; I accompanied her when she
      went out riding.&nbsp; I helped to wait on her at table, and to dress her.&nbsp;
      I picked up her handkerchief when she dropped it; and, above all, I looked
      for her snuff-box, which she was continually mislaying.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She was pleased with my docility, took much interest in me, and,
      that I might read to her, she made me learn to read, for I hardly knew my
      letters.&nbsp; And the old man whom she gave me for a teacher, finding me
      intelligent, taught me all he knew, I imagine, of French, of geography,
      and of history.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The chambermaid, on the other hand, had been commissioned to teach
      me to sew, to embroider, and to execute all sorts of fancy-work; and she
      took the more interest in her lessons, that little by little she shifted
      upon me the most tedious part of her work.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I would have been happy in that pretty house at La Jonchere, if I
      had only had some society better suited to my age than the old women with
      whom I was compelled to live, and who scolded me for a loud word or a
      somewhat abrupt gesture.&nbsp; What would I not have given to have been
      allowed to play with the young girls whom I saw on Sundays passing in
      crowds along the road!
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As time went on, my old mistress became more and more attached to
      me, and endeavored in every way to give me proofs of her affection.&nbsp;
      I sat at table with her, instead of waiting on her, as at first.&nbsp; She
      had given me clothes, so that she could take me and introduce me anywhere.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She went about repeating everywhere that she was as fond of me as
      of a daughter; that she intended to set me up in life; and that certainly
      she would leave a part of her fortune to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas!&nbsp; She said it too loud, for my misfortune,&#8212;so loud,
      that the news reached at last the ears of some nephews of hers in Paris,
      who came once in a while to La Jonchere.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They had never paid much attention to me up to this time.&nbsp;
      Those speeches opened their eyes:&nbsp; they noticed what progress I had
      made in the heart of their relative; and their cupidity became alarmed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Trembling lest they should lose an inheritance which they
      considered as theirs, they united against me, determined to put a stop to
      their aunt&rsquo;s generous intentions by having me sent off.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But it was in vain, that, for nearly a year, their hatred exhausted
      itself in skillful manoeuvres.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The instinct of preservation stimulating my perspicacity I had
      penetrated their intentions, and I was struggling with all my might.&nbsp;
      Every day, to make myself more indispensable, I invented some novel
      attention.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They only came once a week to La Jonchere:&nbsp; I was there all
      the time.&nbsp; I had the advantage.&nbsp; I struggled successfully, and
      was probably approaching the end of my troubles, when my poor old mistress
      was taken sick.&nbsp; After forty-eight hours, she was very low.&nbsp; She
      was fully conscious, but for that very reason she could appreciate the
      danger; and the fear of death made her crazy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Her nieces had come to sit by her bedside; and I was expressly
      forbidden to enter the room.&nbsp; They had understood that this was an
      excellent opportunity to get rid of me forever.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Evidently gained in advance, the physicians declared to my poor
      benefactress that the air of La Jonchere was fatal to her, and that her
      only chance of recovery was to establish herself in Paris.&nbsp; One of
      her nephews offered to have her taken to his house in a litter.&nbsp; She
      would soon get well, they said; and she could then go to finish her
      convalescence in some southern city.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Her first word was for me.&nbsp; She did not wish to be separated
      from me, she protested, and insisted absolutely upon taking me with her.&nbsp;
      Her nephews represented gravely to her that this was an impossibility;
      that she must not think of burdening herself with me; that the simplest
      thing was to leave me at La Jonchere; and that, moreover, they would see
      that I should get a good situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The sick woman struggled for a long time, and with an energy of
      which I would not have thought her capable.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But the others were pressing.&nbsp; The physicians kept repeating
      that they could not answer for any thing, if she did not follow their
      advice.&nbsp; She was afraid of death.&nbsp; She yielded, weeping.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The very next morning, a sort of litter, carried by eight men,
      stopped in front of the door.&nbsp; My poor mistress was laid into it; and
      they carried her off, without even permitting me to kiss her for the last
      time.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Two hours later, the cook and the chambermaid were dismissed.&nbsp;
      As to myself, the nephew who had promised to look after me put a
      twenty-franc-piece in my hand saying, &#8216;Here are your eight days in
      advance.&nbsp; Pack up your things immediately, and clear out!&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was impossible that Mlle. Lucienne should not be deeply moved whilst
      thus stirring the ashes of her past.&nbsp; She showed no evidence of it,
      however, except, now and then, a slight alteration in her voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      As to Maxence, he would vainly have tried to conceal the passionate
      interest with which he was listening to these unexpected confidences.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you, then, never seen your benefactress again?&#8221; he
      asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never,&#8221; replied Mlle. Lucienne.&nbsp; &#8220;All my efforts
      to reach her have proved fruitless.&nbsp; She does not live in Paris now.&nbsp;
      I have written to her:&nbsp; my letters have remained without answer.&nbsp;
      Did she ever get them?&nbsp; I think not.&nbsp; Something tells me that
      she has not forgotten me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She remained silent for a few moments, as if collecting herself before
      resuming the thread of her narrative.&nbsp; And then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was thus brutally,&#8221; she resumed, &#8220;that I was sent
      off.&nbsp; It would have been useless to beg, I knew; and, moreover, I
      have never known how to beg.&nbsp; I piled up hurriedly in two trunks and
      in some bandboxes all I had in the world,&#8212;all I had received from
      the generosity of my poor mistress; and, before the stated hour, I was
      ready.&nbsp; The cook and the chambermaid had already gone.&nbsp; The man
      who was treating me so cruelly was waiting for me.&nbsp; He helped me
      carry out my boxes and trunks, after which he locked the door, put the key
      in his pocket; and, as the American omnibus was passing, he beckoned to it
      to stop.&nbsp; And then, before entering it,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Good luck, my pretty girl!&#8217; he said with a laugh.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This was in the month of January, 1866.&nbsp; I was just thirteen.&nbsp;
      I have had since more terrible trials, and I have found myself in much
      more desperate situations:&nbsp; but I do not remember ever feeling such
      intense discouragement as I did that day, when I found myself alone upon
      that road, not knowing which way to go.&nbsp; I sat down on one of my
      trunks.&nbsp; The weather was cold and gloomy:&nbsp; there were few
      persons on the road.&nbsp; They looked at me, doubtless wondering what I
      was doing there.&nbsp; I wept.&nbsp; I had a vague feeling that the
      well-meant kindness of my poor benefactress, in bestowing upon me the
      blessings of education, would in reality prove a serious impediment in the
      life-struggle which I was about to begin again.&nbsp; I thought of what I
      suffered with the laundress; and, at the idea of the tortures which the
      future still held in store for me, I desired death.&nbsp; The Seine was
      near:&nbsp; why not put an end at once to the miserable existence which I
      foresaw?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Such were my reflections, when a woman from Rueil, a
      vegetable-vender, whom I knew by sight, happened to pass, pushing her
      hand-cart before her over the muddy pavement.&nbsp; She stopped when she
      saw me; and, in the softest voice she could command,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;What are you doing there, my darling?&#8217; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In a few words I explained to her my situation.&nbsp; She seemed
      more surprised than moved.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Such is life,&#8217; she remarked,&#8212;&#8216;sometimes
      up, sometimes down.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, stepping up nearer,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;What do you expect to do now?&#8217; she interrogated in a
      tone of voice so different from that in which she had spoken at first,
      that I felt more keenly the horror of my altered situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I have no idea,&#8217; I replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;After thinking for a moment,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You can&rsquo;t stay there,&#8217; she resumed:&nbsp; &#8216;the
      gendarmes would arrest you.&nbsp; Come with me.&nbsp; We will talk things
      over at the house; and I&rsquo;ll give you my advice.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was so completely crushed, that I had neither strength nor will.&nbsp;
      Besides, what was the use of thinking?&nbsp; Had I any choice of
      resolutions?&nbsp; Finally, the woman&rsquo;s offer seemed to me a last favor of
      destiny.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I shall do as you say, madame,&#8217; I replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She proceeded at once to load up my little baggage on her cart.&nbsp;
      We started; and soon we arrived &#8216;home.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What she called thus was a sort of cellar, at least twelve inches
      lower than the street, receiving its only light through the glass door, in
      which several broken panes had been replaced by sheets of paper.&nbsp; It
      was revoltingly filthy, and filled with a sickening odor.&nbsp; On all
      sides were heaps of vegetables,&#8212;cabbages, potatoes, onions.&nbsp; In
      one corner a nameless heap of decaying rags, which she called her bed; in
      the centre, a small cast-iron stove, the worn-out pipe of which allowed
      the smoke to escape in the room.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Anyway,&#8217; she said to me, &#8216;you have a home now!&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I helped her to unload the cart.&nbsp; She filled the stove with
      coal, and at once declared that she wanted to inspect my things.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My trunks were opened; and it was with exclamations of surprise
      that the woman handled my dresses, my skirts, my stockings.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;The mischief!&#8217; she exclaimed, &#8216;you dressed well,
      didn&rsquo;t you?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Her eyes sparkled so, that a strong feeling of mistrust arose in my
      mind.&nbsp; She seemed to consider all my property as an unexpected
      godsend to herself.&nbsp; Her hands trembled as she handled some piece of
      jewelry; and she took me to the light that she might better estimate the
      value of my ear-rings.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And so, when she asked me if I had any money, determined to hide at
      least my twenty-franc-piece, which was my sole fortune, I replied boldly,
      &#8216;No.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;That&rsquo;s a pity,&#8217; she grumbled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But she wished to know my history, and I was compelled to tell it
      to her.&nbsp; One thing only surprised her,&#8212;my age; and in fact,
      though only thirteen, I looked fully sixteen.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When I had done,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Never mind!&#8217; she said.&nbsp; &#8216;It was lucky for
      you that you met me.&nbsp; You are at least certain now of eating every
      day; for I am going to take charge of you.&nbsp; I am getting old:&nbsp;
      you&rsquo;ll help me to drag my cart.&nbsp; If you are as smart as you are
      pretty, we&rsquo;ll make money.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing could suit me less.&nbsp; But how could I resist?&nbsp; She
      threw a few rags upon the floor; and on them I had to sleep.&nbsp; The
      next day, wearing my meanest dress, and a pair of wooden shoes which she
      had bought for me, and which bruised my feet horribly, I had to harness
      myself to the cart by means of a leather strap, which cut my shoulders and
      my chest.&nbsp; She was an abominable creature, that woman; and I soon
      found out that her repulsive features indicated but too well her ignoble
      instincts.&nbsp; After leading a life of vice and shame, she had, with the
      approach of old age, fallen into the most abject poverty, and had adopted
      the trade of vegetable-vender, which she carried on just enough to escape
      absolute starvation.&nbsp; Enraged at her fate, she found a detestable
      pleasure in ill-treating me, or in endeavoring to stain my imagination by
      the foulest speeches.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, if I had only known where to fly, and where to take refuge!&nbsp;
      But, abusing my ignorance, that execrable woman had persuaded me, that, if
      I attempted to go out alone, I would be arrested.&nbsp; And I knew no one
      to whom I could apply for protection and advice.&nbsp; And then I began to
      learn that beauty, to a poor girl, is a fatal gift.&nbsp; One by one, the
      woman had sold every thing I had,&#8212;dresses, underclothes, jewels; and
      I was now reduced to rags almost as mean as when I was with the laundress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Every morning, rain or shine, hot or cold, we started, wheeling our
      cart from village to village, all along the Seine, from Courbevoie to
      Pont-Marly.&nbsp; I could see no end to this wretched existence, when one
      evening the commissary of police presented himself at our hovel, and
      ordered us to follow him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We were taken to prison; and there I found myself thrown among some
      hundred women, whose faces, words, and gestures frightened me.&nbsp; The
      vegetable-woman had committed a theft; and I was accused of complicity.&nbsp;
      Fortunately I was easily able to demonstrate my innocence; and, at the end
      of two weeks, a jailer opened the door to me, saying, &#8216;Go:&nbsp; you
      are free!&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence understood now the gently ironical smile with which Mlle. Lucienne
      had heard him assert that he, too, had been very unhappy.&nbsp; What a
      life hers had been!&nbsp; And how could such things be within a step of
      Paris, in the midst of a society which deems its organization too perfect
      to consent to modify it!
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne went on, speaking somewhat faster,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was indeed free; but of what use could my freedom be to me?&nbsp;
      I knew not which way to go.&nbsp; A mechanical instinct took me back to
      Rueil.&nbsp; I fancied I would be safer among people who all knew me, and
      that I might find shelter in our old lodgings.&nbsp; But this last hope
      was disappointed.&nbsp; Immediately after our arrest, the owner of the
      building had thrown out every thing it contained, and had rented it to a
      hideous beggar, who offered me, with a giggle, to become his housekeeper.&nbsp;
      I ran off as fast as I could.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The situation was certainly more horrible now than the day when I
      had been turned out of my benefactress&rsquo; house.&nbsp; But the eight months
      I had just spent with the horrible woman had taught me anew how to bear
      misery, and had nerved up my energy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I took out from a fold of my dress, where I had kept it constantly
      hid, the twenty-franc-piece I had received; and, as I was hungry, I
      entered a sort of eating and lodging house, where I had occasionally taken
      a meal.&nbsp; The proprietor was a kind-hearted man.&nbsp; When I had told
      him my situation, he invited me to remain with him until I could find
      something better.&nbsp; On Sundays and Mondays the customers were plenty;
      and he was obliged to take an extra servant.&nbsp; He offered me that work
      to do, promising, in exchange, my lodging and one meal a day.&nbsp; I
      accepted.&nbsp; The next day being Sunday, I commenced the arduous duties
      of a bar-maid in a low drinking house.&nbsp; My <i>pourboires</i> amounted
      sometimes to five or ten francs; I had my board and lodging free; and at
      the end of three months I had been able to provide myself with some decent
      clothing, and was commencing to accumulate a little reserve, when the
      lodging-house keeper, whose business had unexpectedly developed itself to
      a considerable extent, concluded to engage a man-waiter, and urged me to
      look elsewhere for work.&nbsp; I did so.&nbsp; An old neighbor of ours
      told me of a situation at Bougival, where she said I would be very
      comfortable.&nbsp; Overcoming my repugnance, I applied, and was accepted.&nbsp;
      I was to get thirty francs a month.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The place might have been a good one.&nbsp; There were only three
      in the family,&#8212;the gentleman and his wife, and a son of twenty-five.&nbsp;
      Every morning, father and son left for Paris by the first train, and only
      came home to dinner at about six o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; I was therefore alone all
      day with the woman.&nbsp; Unfortunately, she was a cross and disagreeable
      person, who, never having had a servant before, felt an insatiable desire
      of showing and exercising her authority.&nbsp; She was, moreover,
      extremely suspicious, and found some pretext to visit regularly my trunks
      once or twice a week, to see if I had not concealed some of her napkins or
      silver spoons.&nbsp; Having told her that I had once been a laundress, she
      made me wash and iron all the clothes in the house, and was forever
      accusing me of using too much soap and too much coal.&nbsp; Still I liked
      the place well enough; and I had a little room in the attic; which I
      thought charming, and where I spent delightful evenings reading or sewing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But luck was against me.&nbsp; The young gentleman of the house
      took a fancy to me, and determined to make me his mistress.&nbsp; I
      discouraged him in a way; but he persisted in his loathsome attention,
      until one night he broke into my room, and I was compelled to shout for
      help with all my might, before I could get rid of him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The next day I left that house; but I tried in vain to find another
      situation in Bougival.&nbsp; I resolved then to seek a place in Paris.&nbsp;
      I had a big trunk full of good clothes, and about a hundred francs of
      savings; and I felt no anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When I arrived in Paris, I went straight to an intelligence-office.&nbsp;
      I was extremely well received by a very affable old woman who promised to
      get me a good place, and, in the mean time, solicited me to board with
      her.&nbsp; She kept a sort of boarding-house for servants out of place;
      and there were there some fifty or sixty of us, who slept at night in long
      dormitories.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Time went by, and still I did not find that famous place.&nbsp; The
      board was expensive, too, for my scanty means; and I determined to leave.&nbsp;
      I started in quest of new lodgings, followed by a porter, carrying my
      trunk; but as I was crossing the Boulevard, not getting quick enough out
      of the way of a handsome private carriage which was coming at full trot, I
      was knocked down, and trampled under the horses&rsquo;s feet.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Without allowing Maxence to interrupt her,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I had lost consciousness,&#8221; went on Mlle. Lucienne.&nbsp;
      &#8220;When I came to my senses, I was sitting in a drugstore; and three
      or four persons were busy around me.&nbsp; I had no fracture, but only
      some severe contusions, and a deep cut on the head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The physician who had attended me requested me to try and walk; but
      I could not even stand on my feet.&nbsp; Then he asked me where I lived,
      that I might be taken there; and I was compelled to own that I was a poor
      servant out of place, without a home or a friend to care for me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;In that case,&#8217; said the doctor to the druggist,
      &#8216;we must send her to the hospital.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And they sent for a cab.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In the mean time, quite a crowd had gathered outside, and the
      conduct of the person who was in the carriage that had run over me was
      being indignantly criticised.&nbsp; It was a woman; and I had caught a
      glimpse of her at the very moment I was falling under the horses&rsquo; feet.&nbsp;
      She had not even condescended to get out of her carriage; but, calling a
      policeman, she had given him her name and address, adding, loud enough to
      be heard by the crowd, &#8216;I am in too great a hurry to stop.&nbsp; My
      coachman is an awkward fellow, whom I shall dismiss as soon as I get home.&nbsp;
      I am ready to pay any thing that may be asked.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She had also sent one of her cards for me.&nbsp; A policeman handed
      it to me; and I read the name, Baronne de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;That&rsquo;s lucky for you,&#8217; said the doctor.&nbsp; &#8216;That
      lady is the wife of a very rich banker; and she will be able to help you
      when you get well.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The cab had now come.&nbsp; I was carried into it; and, an hour
      later, I was admitted at the hospital, and laid on a clean, comfortable
      bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But my trunk!&#8212;my trunk, which contained all my things, all I
      had in the world, and, worse still, all the money I had left.&nbsp; I
      asked for it, my heart filled with anxiety.&nbsp; No one had either seen
      or heard of it.&nbsp; Had the porter missed me in the crowd? or had he
      basely availed himself of the accident to rob me?&nbsp; This was hard to
      decide.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The good sisters promised that they would have it looked after, and
      that the police would certainly be able to find that man whom I had
      engaged near the intelligence-office.&nbsp; But all these assurances
      failed to console me.&nbsp; This blow was the finishing one.&nbsp; I was
      taken with fever; and for more than two weeks my life was despaired of.&nbsp;
      I was saved at last:&nbsp; but my convalescence was long and tedious; and
      for over two months I lingered with alternations of better and of worse.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yet such had been my misery for the past two years, that this
      gloomy stay in a hospital was for me like an oasis in the desert.&nbsp;
      The good sisters were very kind to me; and, when I was able, I helped them
      with their lighter work, or went to the chapel with them.&nbsp; I
      shuddered at the thought that I must leave them as soon as I was entirely
      well; and then what would become of me?&nbsp; For my trunk had not been
      found, and I was destitute of all.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet I had, at the hospital, more than one subject for gloomy
      reflections.&nbsp; Twice a week, on Thursdays and Sundays, visitors were
      admitted; and there was not on those days a single patient who did not
      receive a relative or a friend.&nbsp; But I, no one, nothing, never!
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I am mistaken.&nbsp; I was commencing to get well, when one
      Sunday I saw by my bedside an old man, dressed all in black, of alarming
      appearance, wearing blue spectacles, and holding under his arm an enormous
      portfolio, crammed full of papers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You are Mlle. Lucienne, I believe,&#8217; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Yes,&#8217; I replied, quite surprised.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You are the person who was knocked down by a carriage on the
      corner of the Boulevard and the Faubourg St. Martin?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Yes sir.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Do you know whose equipage that was?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;The Baronne de Thaller&rsquo;s, I was told.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He seemed a little surprised, but at once,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Have you seen that lady, or caused her to be seen in your
      behalf?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;No.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Have you heard from her in any manner?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;No.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A smile came back upon his lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Luckily for you I am here,&#8217; he said.&nbsp; &#8216;Several
      times already I have called; but you were too unwell to hear me.&nbsp; Now
      that you are better, listen.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And thereupon, taking a chair, he commenced to explain his
      profession to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He was a sort of broker; and accidents were his specialty.&nbsp; As
      soon as one took place, he was notified by some friends of his at police
      headquarters.&nbsp; At once he started in quest of the victim, overtook
      her at home or at the hospital, and offered his services.&nbsp; For a
      moderate commission he undertook, if needs be, to recover damages.&nbsp;
      He commenced suit when necessary; and, if he thought the case tolerably
      safe, he made advances.&nbsp; He stated, for instance, that my case was a
      plain one, and that he would undertake to obtain four or five thousand
      francs, at least, from Mme. de Thaller.&nbsp; All he wanted was my power
      of attorney.&nbsp; But, in spite of his pressing instances, I declined his
      offers; and he withdrew, very much displeased, assuring me that I would
      soon repent.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Upon second thought, indeed, I regretted to have followed the first
      inspiration of my pride, and the more so, that the good sisters whom I
      consulted on the subject told me that I was wrong, and that my reclamation
      would be perfectly proper.&nbsp; At their suggestion, I then adopted
      another line of conduct, which, they thought, would as surely bring about
      the same result.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As briefly as possible, I wrote out the history of my life from the
      day I had been left with the gardeners at Louveciennes.&nbsp; I added to
      it a faithful account of my present situation; and I addressed the whole
      to Mme. de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You&rsquo;ll see if she don&rsquo;t come before a day or two,&#8217;
      said the sisters.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They were mistaken.&nbsp; Mme. de Thaller came neither the next nor
      the following days; and I was still awaiting her answer, when, one
      morning, the doctor announced that I was well enough to leave the
      hospital.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I cannot say that I was very sorry.&nbsp; I had lately made the
      acquaintance of a young workwoman, who had been sent to the hospital in
      consequence of a fall, and who occupied the bed next to mine.&nbsp; She
      was a girl of about twenty, very gentle, very obliging, and whose amiable
      countenance had attracted me from the first.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Like myself, she had no parents.&nbsp; But she was rich, very rich.&nbsp;
      She owned the furniture of the room, a sewing-machine, which had cost her
      three hundred francs, and, like a true child of Paris, she understood five
      or six trades, the least lucrative of which yielded her twenty-five or
      thirty cents a day.&nbsp; In less than a week, we had become good friends;
      and, when she left the hospital,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Believe me,&#8217; she said:&nbsp; &#8216;when you come out
      yourself, don&rsquo;t waste your time looking for a place.&nbsp; Come to me:&nbsp;
      I can accommodate you.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll teach you what I know; and, if you are
      industrious, you&rsquo;ll make your living, and you&rsquo;ll be free.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was to her room that I went straight from the hospital,
      carrying, tied in a handkerchief, my entire baggage,&#8212;one dress, and
      a few undergarments that the good sisters had given me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She received me like a sister, and after showing me her lodging,
      two little attic-rooms shining with cleanliness,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You&rsquo;ll see,&#8217; she said, kissing me, &#8216;how happy
      we&rsquo;ll be here.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was getting late.&nbsp; M. Fortin had long ago come up and put out the
      gas on the stairs.&nbsp; One by one, every noise had died away in the
      hotel.&nbsp; Nothing now disturbed the silence of the night save the
      distant sound of some belated cab on the Boulevard.&nbsp; But neither
      Maxence nor Mlle. Lucienne were noticing the flight of time, so interested
      were they, one in telling, and the other in listening to, this story of a
      wonderful existence.&nbsp; However, Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s voice had become
      hoarse with fatigue.&nbsp; She poured herself a glass of water, which she
      emptied at a draught, and then at once,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never yet,&#8221; she resumed, &#8220;had I been agitated by such a
      sweet sensation.&nbsp; My eyes were full of tears; but they were tears of
      gratitude and joy.&nbsp; After so many years of isolation, to meet with
      such a friend, so generous, and so devoted:&nbsp; it was like finding a
      family.&nbsp; For a few weeks, I thought that fate had relented at last.&nbsp;
      My friend was an excellent workwoman; but with some intelligence, and the
      will to learn, I soon knew as much as she did.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There was plenty of work.&nbsp; By working twelve hours, with the
      help of the thrice-blessed sewing-machine, we succeeded in making six,
      seven, and even eight francs a day.&nbsp; It was a fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thus several months elapsed in comparative comfort.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Once more I was afloat, and I had more clothes than I had lost in
      my trunk.&nbsp; I liked the life I was leading; and I would be leading it
      still, if my friend had not one day fallen desperately in love with a
      young man she had met at a ball.&nbsp; I disliked him very much, and took
      no trouble to conceal my feelings:&nbsp; nevertheless, my friend imagined
      that I had designs upon him, and became fiercely jealous of me.&nbsp;
      Jealousy does not reason; and I soon understood that we would no longer be
      able to live in common, and that I must look elsewhere for shelter.&nbsp;
      But my friend gave me no time to do so.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Coming home one Monday night at about eleven, she notified me to
      clear out at once.&nbsp; I attempted to expostulate:&nbsp; she replied
      with abuse.&nbsp; Rather than enter upon a degrading struggle, I yielded,
      and went out.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That night I spent on a chair in a neighbor&rsquo;s room.&nbsp; But the
      next day, when I went for my things, my former friend refused to give
      them, and presumed to keep every thing.&nbsp; I was compelled, though
      reluctantly, to resort to the intervention of the commissary of police.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I gained my point.&nbsp; But the good days had gone.&nbsp; Luck did
      not follow me to the wretched furnished house where I hired a room.&nbsp;
      I had no sewing-machine, and but few acquaintances.&nbsp; By working
      fifteen or sixteen hours a day, I made thirty or forty cents.&nbsp; That
      was not enough to live on.&nbsp; Then work failed me altogether, and,
      piece by piece, every thing I had went to the pawnbroker&rsquo;s.&nbsp; On a
      gloomy December morning, I was turned out of my room, and left on the
      pavement with a ten-cent-piece for my fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never had I been so low; and I know not to what extremities I might
      have come at last, when I happened to think of that wealthy lady whose
      horses had upset me on the Boulevard.&nbsp; I had kept her card.&nbsp;
      Without hesitation, I went unto a grocery, and calling for some paper and
      a pen, I wrote, overcoming the last struggle of my pride,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Do you remember, madame, a poor girl whom your carriage came
      near crushing to death?&nbsp; Once before she applied to you, and received
      no answer.&nbsp; She is to-day without shelter and without bread; and you
      are her supreme hope.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I placed these few lines in an envelope, and ran to the address
      indicated on the card.&nbsp; It was a magnificent residence, with a vast
      court-yard in front.&nbsp; In the porter&rsquo;s lodge, five or six servants
      were talking as I came in, and looked at me impudently, from head to foot,
      when I requested them to take my letter to Mme. de Thaller.&nbsp; One of
      them, however, took pity on me,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Come with me,&#8217; he said, &#8216;come along!&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He made me cross the yard, and enter the vestibule; and then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Give me your letter,&#8217; he said, &#8216;and wait here
      for me.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was about to express the thoughts which Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s name
      naturally suggested to his mind, but Mlle. Lucienne interrupted him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In all my life,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;I had never seen any
      thing so magnificent as that vestibule with its tall columns, its
      tessellated floor, its large bronze vases filled with the rarest flowers,
      and its red velvet benches, upon which tall footmen in brilliant livery
      were lounging.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was, I confess, somewhat intimidated by all of this splendor; and
      I remained awkwardly standing, when suddenly the servants stood up
      respectfully.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A door had just opened, through which appeared a man already past
      middle age, tall, thin, dressed in the extreme of fashion, and wearing
      long red whiskers falling over his chest.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Baron de Thaller,&#8221; murmured Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the interruption.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The attitude of the servants,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;had made
      me easily guess that he was the master.&nbsp; I was bowing to him,
      blushing and embarrassed, when, noticing me, he stopped short, shuddering
      from head to foot.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Who are you?&#8217; he asked me roughly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I attributed his manner to the sad condition of my dress, which
      appeared more miserable and more dilapidated still amid the surrounding
      splendors; and, in a scarcely intelligible voice, I began,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I am a poor girl, sir&#8212;&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But he interrupted me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;To the point!&nbsp; What do you want?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I am awaiting an answer, sir, to a request which I have just
      forwarded to the baroness.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;What about?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Once sir, I was run over in the street by the baroness&rsquo;s
      carriage:&nbsp; I was severely wounded, and had to be taken to the
      hospital.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I fancied there was something like terror in the man&rsquo;s look.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;It is you, then, who once before sent a long letter to my
      wife, in which you told the story of your life?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Yes, sir, it was I.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You stated in that letter that you had no parents, having
      been left by your mother with some gardeners at Louveciennes?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;That is the truth.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;What has become of these gardeners?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;They are dead.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;What was your mother&rsquo;s name?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I never knew.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To M. de Thaller&rsquo;s first surprise had succeeded a feeling of
      evident irritation; but, the more haughty and brutal his manners, the
      cooler and the more self-possessed I became.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;And you are soliciting assistance?&#8217; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I drew myself up, and, looking at him straight in the eyes,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I beg your pardon,&#8217; I replied:&nbsp; &#8216;it is a
      legitimate indemnity which I claim.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed, it seemed to me that my firmness alarmed him.&nbsp; With a
      feverish haste, he began to feel in his pockets.&nbsp; He took out their
      contents of gold and bank-notes all in a heap, and, thrusting it into my
      hands without counting,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Here,&#8217; he said, &#8216;take this.&nbsp; Are you
      satisfied?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I observed to him, that, having sent a letter to Mme. de Thaller,
      it would perhaps be proper to await her answer.&nbsp; But he replied that
      it was not necessary, and, pushing me towards the door,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You may depend upon it,&#8217; he said, &#8216;I shall tell
      my wife that I saw you.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I started to go out; but I had not gone ten steps across the yard,
      when I heard him crying excitedly to his servants,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You see that beggar, don&rsquo;t you?&nbsp; Well, the first one
      who allows her to cross the threshold of my door shall be turned out on
      the instant.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A beggar, I!&nbsp; Ah the wretch!&nbsp; I turned round to cast his
      alms into his face; but already he had disappeared, and I only found
      before me the footman, chuckling stupidly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I went out; and, as my anger gradually passed off, I felt thankful
      that I had been unable to follow the dictates of my wounded pride.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Poor girl,&#8217; I thought to myself, &#8216;where would
      you be at this hour?&nbsp; You would only have to select between suicide
      and the vilest existence; whereas now you are above want.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was passing before a small restaurant.&nbsp; I went in; for I was
      very hungry, having, so to speak, eaten nothing for several days past.&nbsp;
      Besides, I felt anxious to count my treasure.&nbsp; The Baron de Thaller
      had given me nine hundred and thirty francs.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This sum, which exceeded the utmost limits of my ambition, seemed
      inexhaustible to me:&nbsp; I was dazzled by its possession.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;And yet,&#8217; I thought, &#8216;had M. de Thaller happened
      to have ten thousand francs in his pockets he would have given them to me
      all the same.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was at a loss to explain this strange generosity.&nbsp; Why his
      surprise when he first saw me, then his anger, and his haste to get rid of
      me?&nbsp; How was it that a man whose mind must be filled with the gravest
      cares had so distinctly remembered me, and the letter I had written to his
      wife?&nbsp; Why, after showing himself so generous, had he so strictly
      excluded me from his house?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;After vainly trying for some time to solve this riddle, I concluded
      that I must be the victim of my own imagination; and I turned my attention
      to making the best possible use of my sudden fortune.&nbsp; On the same
      day, I took a little room in the Faubourg St. Denis; and I bought myself a
      sewing-machine.&nbsp; Before the week was over, I had work before me for
      several months.&nbsp; Ah! this time it seemed indeed that I had nothing
      more to apprehend from destiny; and I looked forward, without fear, to the
      future.&nbsp; At the end of a month, I was earning four to five francs a
      day, when, one afternoon, a stout man, very well dressed, looking honest
      and good-natured, and speaking French with some difficulty, made his
      appearance at my room.&nbsp; He was an American he stated, and had been
      sent to me by the woman for whom I worked.&nbsp; Having need of a skilled
      Parisian work-woman, he came to propose to me to follow him to New York,
      where he would insure me a brilliant position.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I knew several poor girls, who, on the faith of dazzling
      promises, had expatriated themselves.&nbsp; Once abroad, they had been
      shamefully abandoned, and had been driven, to escape starvation, to resort
      to the vilest expedients.&nbsp; I refused, therefore, and frankly gave him
      my reasons for doing so.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My visitor at once protested indignantly.&nbsp; Whom did I take him
      for?&nbsp; It was a fortune that I was refusing.&nbsp; He guaranteed me in
      New York board, lodging, and two hundred francs a month.&nbsp; He would
      pay all traveling and moving expenses.&nbsp; And, to prove to me the
      fairness of his intentions, he was ready, he said, to sign an agreement,
      and pay me a thousand down.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;These offers were so brilliant, that I was staggered in my
      resolution.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Well,&#8217; I said, &#8216;give me twenty-four hours to
      decide.&nbsp; I wish to see my employer.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He seemed very much annoyed; but, as I remained firm in my purpose,
      he left, promising to return the next day to receive my final answer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I ran at once to my employer.&nbsp; She did not know what I was
      talking about.&nbsp; She had sent no one, and was not acquainted with any
      American.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course, I never saw him again; and I couldn&rsquo;t help thinking of
      this singular adventure, when, one evening during the following week, as I
      was coming home at about eleven o&rsquo;clock, two policemen arrested me, and,
      in spite of my earnest protestations, took me to the station-house, where
      I was locked up with a dozen unfortunates who had just been taken up on
      the Boulevards.&nbsp; I spent the night crying with shame and anger; and I
      don&rsquo;t know what would have become of me, if the justice of the peace, who
      examined me the next morning, had not happened to be a just and kind man.&nbsp;
      As soon as I had explained to him that I was the victim of a most
      humiliating error he sent an agent in quest of information, and having
      satisfied himself that I was an honest girl, working for my living, he
      discharged me.&nbsp; But, before permitting me to go,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Beware, my child,&#8217; he said to me:&nbsp; &#8216;it is
      upon a formal and well-authenticated declaration that you were arrested.&nbsp;
      Therefore you must have enemies.&nbsp; People have an interest in getting
      rid of you.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mademoiselle Lucienne was evidently almost exhausted with fatigue:&nbsp;
      her voice was failing her.&nbsp; But it was in vain that Maxence begged
      her to take a few moments of rest.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No,&#8221; she answered, &#8220;I&rsquo;d rather get through as quick as
      possible.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, making an effort, she resumed her narrative, hurrying more and more.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I returned home, my mind all disturbed by the judge&rsquo;s warnings.&nbsp;
      I am no coward; but it is a terrible thing to feel one&rsquo;s self incessantly
      threatened by an unknown and mysterious danger, against which nothing can
      be done.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In vain did I search my past life:&nbsp; I could think of no one
      who could have any interest in effecting my ruin.&nbsp; Those alone have
      enemies who have had friends.&nbsp; I had never had but one friend, the
      kind-hearted girl who had turned me out of her home in a fit of absurd
      jealousy.&nbsp; But I knew her well enough to knew that she was incapable
      of malice, and that she must long since have forgotten the unlucky cause
      of our rupture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Weeks after weeks passed without any new incident.&nbsp; I had
      plenty of work and was earning enough money to begin saving.&nbsp; So I
      felt comfortable, laughed at my former fears, and neglected the
      precautions which I had taken at first; when, one evening, my employer,
      having a very important and pressing order, sent for me.&nbsp; We did not
      get through our work until long after midnight.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She wished me to spend the rest of the night with her; but it would
      have been necessary to make up a bed for me, and disturb the whole
      household.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Bash!&#8217;&nbsp; I said, &#8216;this will not be the first
      time I cross Paris in the middle of the night.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I started; and I was going along, walking as fast as I could, when,
      from the angle of a dark, narrow street, a man sprang upon me, threw me
      down, struck me, and would doubtless have killed me, but for two brave
      gentlemen who heard my screams and rushed to my assistance.&nbsp; The man
      ran off; and I was able to walk the rest of the way home, having received
      but a very slight wound.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But the very next morning I ran to see my friend, the justice of
      the peace.&nbsp; He listened to me gravely, and, when I had concluded,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;How were you dressed?&#8217; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;All in black,&#8217; I replied, &#8216;very modestly, like a
      workwoman.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Had you nothing on your person that could tempt a thief?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Nothing.&nbsp; No watch-chain, no jewelry, no ear-rings
      even.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Then,&#8217; he uttered, knitting his brows, &#8216;it is
      not a fortuitous crime:&nbsp; it is another attempt on the part of your
      enemies.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Such was also my opinion.&nbsp; And yet:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;But, sir,&#8217; I exclaimed, &#8216;who can have any
      interest to destroy me, &#8212;a poor obscure girl as I am?&nbsp; I have
      thought carefully and well, and I have not a single enemy that I can think
      of.&#8217;&nbsp; And, as I had full confidence in his kindness, I went on
      telling him the story of my life.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You are a natural child,&#8217; he said as soon as I had
      done, &#8216;and you have been basely abandoned.&nbsp; That fact alone
      would be sufficient to justify every supposition.&nbsp; You do not know
      your parents; but it is quite possible that they may know you, and that
      they may never have lost sight of you.&nbsp; Your mother was a
      working-girl, you think?&nbsp; That may be.&nbsp; But your father?&nbsp;
      Do you know what interests your existence may threaten?&nbsp; Do you know
      what elaborate edifice of falsehood and infamy your sudden appearance
      might tumble to the ground?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was listening dumfounded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never had such conjectures crossed my mind; and, whilst I doubted
      their probability, I had, at least, to admit their possibility.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;What must I do, then?&#8217;&nbsp; I inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The peace-officer shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Indeed, my poor child, I hardly know what to advise.&nbsp;
      The police is not omnipotent.&nbsp; It can do nothing to anticipate a
      crime conceived in the brain of an unknown scoundrel.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was terrified.&nbsp; He saw it, and took pity on me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;In your place,&#8217; he added, &#8216;I would change my
      domicile.&nbsp; You might, perhaps, thus make them lose your track.&nbsp;
      And, above all, do not fail to give me your new address.&nbsp; Whatever I
      can do to protect you, and insure your safety, I shall do.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That excellent man has kept his word; and once again I owed my
      safety to him.&nbsp; &lsquo;Tis he who is now commissary of police in this
      district, and who protected me against Mme. Fortin.&nbsp; I hastened to
      follow his advice, and two days later I had hired the room in this house
      in which I am still living.&nbsp; In order to avoid every chance of
      discovery, I left my employer, and requested her to say, if any one came
      to inquire after me, that I had gone to America.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I soon found work again in a very fashionable dress-making
      establishment, the name of which you must have heard,&#8212;Van Klopen&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
      Unfortunately, war had just been declared.&nbsp; Every day announced a new
      defeat.&nbsp; The Prussians were coming; then the siege began.&nbsp; Van
      Klopen had closed his shop, and left Paris.&nbsp; I had a few savings,
      thank heaven; and I husbanded them as carefully as shipwrecked mariners do
      their last ration of food, when I unexpectedly found some work.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was one Sunday, and I had gone out to see some battalions of
      National Guards passing along the Boulevard, when suddenly I saw one of
      the vivandieres, who was marching behind the band, stop, and run towards
      me with open arms.&nbsp; It was my old friend from the Batignolles, who
      had recognized me.&nbsp; She threw her arms around my neck, and, as we had
      at once become the centre of a group of at least five hundred idlers,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I must speak to you,&#8217; she said.&nbsp; &#8216;If you
      live in the neighborhood, let&rsquo;s go to your room.&nbsp; The service can
      wait.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I brought her here, and at once she commenced to excuse herself for
      her past conduct, begging me to restore her my friendship.&nbsp; As I
      expected, she had long since forgotten the young man, cause of our
      rupture.&nbsp; But she was now in love, and seriously this time, she
      declared, with a furniture-maker, who was a captain in the National
      Guards.&nbsp; It was through him that she had become a vivandiere; and she
      offered me a similar position, if I wished it.&nbsp; But I did not wish
      it; and, as I was complaining that I could find no work, she swore that
      she would get me some through her captain, who was a very influential man.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Through him, I did in fact obtain a few dozen jackets to make.&nbsp;
      This work was very poorly paid; but the little I earned was that much less
      to take from my humble resources.&nbsp; In that way I managed to get
      through the siege without suffering too much.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;After the armistice, unfortunately, M. Van Klopen had not yet
      returned.&nbsp; I was unable to procure any work; my resources were
      exhausted; and I would have starved during the Commune, but for my old
      friend, who several times brought me a little money, and some provisions.&nbsp;
      Her captain was now a colonel, and was about to become a member of the
      government; at least, so she assured me.&nbsp; The entrance of the troops
      into Paris put an end to her dream.&nbsp; One night she came to me livid
      with fright.&nbsp; She supposed herself gravely compromised, and begged me
      to hide her.&nbsp; For four days she remained with me.&nbsp; On the fifth,
      just as we were sitting down to dinner, my room was invaded by a number of
      police-agents, who showed us an order of arrest, and commanded us to
      follow them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My friend sank down upon a chair, stupid with fright.&nbsp; But I
      retained my presence of mind, and persuaded one of the agents to go and
      notify my friend the justice.&nbsp; He happened luckily to be at home, and
      at once hastened to my assistance.&nbsp; He could do nothing, however, for
      the moment; the agents having positive orders to take us straight to
      Versailles.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Well,&#8217; said he, &#8216;I shall accompany you.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;From the very first steps he took the next morning, he discovered
      that my position was indeed grave.&nbsp; But he also and very clearly
      recognized a new device of the enemy to bring about my destruction.&nbsp;
      The information filed against me stated that I had remained in the service
      of the Commune to the last moment; that I had been seen behind the
      barricades with a gun in my hand; and that I had formed one of a band of
      vile incendiaries.&nbsp; This infamous scheme had evidently been suggested
      by my relations with my friend from the Batignolles, who was still more
      terribly compromised than she thought, the poor girl; her colonel having
      been captured, and convicted of pillage and murder, and herself charged
      with complicity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Isolated as I was, without resources, and without relatives, I
      would certainly have perished, but for the devoted efforts of my friend
      the justice, whose official position gave him access everywhere, and
      enabled him to reach my judges.&nbsp; He succeeded in demonstrating my
      entire innocence; and after forty-eight hours&rsquo; detention, which seemed an
      age to me, I was set at liberty.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At the door; I found the man who had just saved me.&nbsp; He was
      waiting for me, but would not suffer me to express the gratitude with
      which my heart overflowed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You will thank me,&#8217; he said, &#8216;when I have
      deserved it better.&nbsp; I have done nothing as yet that any honest man
      wouldn&rsquo;t have done in my place.&nbsp; What I wish is to discover what
      interests you are threatening without knowing it, and which must be
      considerable, if I may judge by the passion and the tenacity of those who
      are pursuing you.&nbsp; What I desire to do is to lay hands upon the
      cowardly rascals in whose way you seem to stand.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shook my head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You will not succeed,&#8217; I said to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Who knows?&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve done harder things than that in my
      life.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And taking a large envelope from his pocket,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;This,&#8217; he said, &#8216;is the letter which caused your
      arrest.&nbsp; I have examined it attentively; and I am certain that the
      handwriting is not disguised.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s something to start with, and
      may enable me to verify my suspicions, should any occur to my mind.&nbsp;
      In the mean time, return quietly to Paris, resume your ordinary
      occupations, answer vaguely any questions that may be asked about this
      matter, and above all, never mention my name.&nbsp; Remain at the Hotel
      des Folies:&nbsp; it is in my district, in my legitimate sphere of action;
      besides, the proprietors are in a position where they dare not disobey my
      orders.&nbsp; Never come to my office, unless something grave and
      unforeseen should occur.&nbsp; Our chances of success would be seriously
      compromised, if they could suspect the interest I take in your welfare.&nbsp;
      Keep your eyes open on every thing that is going on around you, and, if
      you notice any thing suspicious, write to me.&nbsp; I will myself organize
      a secret surveillance around you.&nbsp; If I can bag one of the rascals
      who are watching you, that&rsquo;s all I want.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;And now,&#8217; added this good man, &#8216;good-by.&nbsp;
      Patience and courage.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately he had not thought of offering me a little money:&nbsp;
      I had not dared to ask him for any, and I had but eight sous left.&nbsp;
      It was on foot, therefore, that I was compelled to return to Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mme. Fortin received me with open arms.&nbsp; With me returned the
      hope of recovering the hundred and odd francs which I owed her, and which
      she had given up for lost.&nbsp; Moreover, she had excellent news for me.&nbsp;
      M. Van Klopen had sent for me during my absence, requesting me to call at
      his shop.&nbsp; Tired as I was, I went to see him at once.&nbsp; I found
      him very much downcast by the poor prospects of business.&nbsp; Still he
      was determined to go on, and offered to employ me, not as work-woman, as
      heretofore, but to try on garments for customers, at a salary of one
      hundred and twenty francs a month.&nbsp; I was not in a position to be
      very particular.&nbsp; I accepted; and there I am still.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Every morning, when I get to the shop, I take off this simple
      costume, and I put on a sort of livery that belongs to M. Van Klopen,
      &#8212;wide skirts, and a black silk dress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then whenever a customer comes who wants a cloak, a mantle, or some
      other &#8216;wrapping,&#8217; I step up and put on the garment, that the
      purchaser may see how it looks.&nbsp; I have to walk, to turn around, sit
      down, etc.&nbsp; It is absurdly ridiculous, often humiliating; and many a
      time, during the first days, I felt tempted to give back to M. Van Klopen
      his black silk dress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But the conjectures of my friend the peace-officer were constantly
      agitating my brain.&nbsp; Since I thought I had discovered a mystery in my
      existence, I indulged in all sorts of fancies, and was momentarily
      expecting some extraordinary occurrence, some compensation of destiny, and
      I remained.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I was not yet at the end of my troubles.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Since she had been speaking of M. Van Klopen, Mlle. Lucienne seemed to
      have lost her tone of haughty assurance and imperturbable coolness; and it
      was with a look of mingled confusion and sadness that she went on.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What I was doing at Van Klopen&rsquo;s was exceedingly painful to me; and
      yet he very soon asked me to do something more painful still.&nbsp;
      Gradually Paris was filling up again.&nbsp; The hotels had re-opened;
      foreigners were pouring in; and the Bois Boulogne was resuming its wonted
      animation.&nbsp; Still but few orders came in, and those for dresses of
      the utmost simplicity, of dark color and plain material, on which it was
      hard to make twenty-five per cent profit.&nbsp; Van Klopen was
      disconsolate.&nbsp; He kept speaking to me of the good old days, when some
      of his customers spent as much as thirty thousand francs a month for
      dresses and trifles, until one day,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You are the only one,&#8217; he told me, &#8216;who can help
      me out just now.&nbsp; You are really good looking; and I am sure that in
      full dress, spread over the cushions of a handsome carriage, you would
      create quite a sensation, and that all the rest of the women would be
      jealous of you, and would wish to look like you.&nbsp; There needs but
      one, you know, to give the good example.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence started up suddenly, and, striking his head with hand,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, I understand now!&#8221; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I thought that Van Klopen was jesting,&#8221; went on the young
      girl.&nbsp; &#8220;But he had never been more in earnest; and, to prove
      it, he commenced explaining to me what he wanted.&nbsp; He proposed to get
      up for me some of those costumes which are sure to attract attention; and
      two or three times a week he would send me a fine carriage, and I would go
      and show myself in the Bois.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I felt disgusted at the proposition.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Never!&#8217;&nbsp; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Why not?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Because I respect myself too much to make a living
      advertisement of myself.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He shrugged his shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You are wrong,&#8217; he said.&nbsp; &#8216;You are not
      rich, and I would give you twenty francs for each ride.&nbsp; At the rate
      of eight rides a month, it would be one hundred and sixty francs added to
      your wages.&nbsp; Besides,&#8217; he added with a wink, &#8216;it would be
      an excellent opportunity to make your fortune.&nbsp; Pretty as you are,
      who knows but what some millionaire might take a fancy to you!&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I felt indignant.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;For that reason alone, if for no other,&#8217; I exclaimed,
      &#8216;I refuse.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;You are a little fool,&#8217; he replied.&nbsp; &#8216;If
      you do not accept, you cease being in my employment.&nbsp; Reflect!&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My mind was already made up, and I was thinking of looking out for
      some other occupation, when I received a note from my friend the
      peace-officer, requesting me to call at his office.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I did so, and, after kindly inviting me to a seat,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Well,&#8217; he said, &#8216;what is there new?&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Nothing.&nbsp; I have noticed no one watching me.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He looked annoyed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;My agents have not detected any thing, either,&#8217; he
      grumbled.&nbsp; &#8216;And yet it is evident that your enemies cannot have
      given it up so.&nbsp; They are sharp ones:&nbsp; if they keep quiet, it is
      because they are preparing some good trick.&nbsp; What it is I must and
      shall find out.&nbsp; Already I have an idea which would be an excellent
      one, if I could discover some way of throwing you among what is called
      good society.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I explained to him, that, being employed at Van Klopen&rsquo;s, I had an
      opportunity to see there many ladies of the best society.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;That is not enough,&#8217; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then M. Van Klopen&rsquo;s propositions came back to my mind, and I
      stated them to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Just the thing!&#8217; he exclaimed, starting upon his
      chair:&nbsp; &#8216;a manifest proof that luck is with us.&nbsp; You must
      accept.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I felt bound to tell him my objections, which reflection had much
      increased.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I know but too well,&#8217; I said, &#8216;what must happen
      if I accept this odious duty.&nbsp; Before I have been four times to the
      Bois, I shall be noticed, and every one will imagine that they know for
      what purpose I come there.&nbsp; I shall be assailed with vile offers.&nbsp;
      True, I have no fears for myself.&nbsp; I shall always be better guarded
      by my pride than by the most watchful of parents.&nbsp; But my reputation
      will be lost.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I failed to convince him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;I know very well that you are an honest girl,&#8217; he said
      to me; &#8216;but, for that very reason, what do you care what all these
      people will think, whom you do not know?&nbsp; Your future is at stake.&nbsp;
      I repeat it, you must accept.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;If you command me to do so,&#8217; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Yes, I command you; and I&rsquo;ll explain to you why.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time, Mlle. Lucienne manifested some reticence, and omitted
      to repeat the explanations of the peace-officer.&nbsp; And, after a few
      moments&rsquo; pause,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know the rest, neighbor,&#8221; she said, &#8220;since you have
      seen me yourself in that inept and ridiculous role of living
      advertisement, of fashionable lay-figure; and the result has been just as
      I expected.&nbsp; Can you find any one who believes in my honesty of
      purpose?&nbsp; You have heard Mme. Fortin to-night?&nbsp; Yourself,
      neighbor &#8212;what did you take me for?&nbsp; And yet you should have
      noticed something of my suffering and my humiliation the day that you were
      watching me so closely in the Bois de Boulogne.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed Maxence with a start, &#8220;you know?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have I not just told you that I always fear being watched and
      followed, and that I am always on the lookout?&nbsp; Yes, I know that you
      tried to discover the secret of my rides.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence tried to excuse himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That will do for the present,&#8221; she uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;You
      wish to be my friend, you say?&nbsp; Now that you know my whole life
      almost as well as I do myself, reflect, and to-morrow you will tell me the
      result of your thoughts.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whereupon she went out.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXVIII
    </h2>
    <p>
      For about a minute Maxence remained stupefied at this sudden denouement;
      and, when he had recovered his presence of mind and his voice, Mlle.
      Lucienne had disappeared, and he could hear her bolting her door, and
      striking a match against the wall.
    </p>
    <p>
      He might also have thought that he was awaking from a dream, had he not
      had, to attest the reality, the vague perfume which filled his room, and
      the light shawl, which Mlle. Lucienne wore as she came in, and which she
      had forgotten, on a chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      The night was almost ended:&nbsp; six o&rsquo;clock had just struck.&nbsp; Still
      he did not feel in the least sleepy.&nbsp; His head was heavy, his temples
      throbbing, his eyes smarting.&nbsp; Opening his window, he leaned out to
      breathe the morning air.&nbsp; The day was dawning pale and cold.&nbsp; A
      furtive and livid light glanced along the damp walls of the narrow court
      of the Hotel des Folies, as at the bottom of a well.&nbsp; Already arose
      those confused noises which announce the waking of Paris, and above which
      can be heard the sonorous rolling of the milkmen&rsquo;s carts, the loud
      slamming of doors, and the sharp sound of hurrying steps on the hard
      pavement.
    </p>
    <p>
      But soon Maxence felt a chill coming over him.&nbsp; He closed the window,
      threw some wood in the chimney, and stretched himself on his chair, his
      feet towards the fire.&nbsp; It was a most serious event which had just
      occurred in his existence; and, as much as he could, he endeavored to
      measure its bearings, and to calculate its consequences in the future.
    </p>
    <p>
      He kept thinking of the story of that strange girl, her haughty frankness
      when unrolling certain phases of her life, of her wonderful impassibility,
      and of the implacable contempt for humanity which her every word betrayed.&nbsp;
      Where had she learned that dignity, so simple and so noble, that measured
      speech, that admirable respect of herself, which had enabled her to pass
      through so much filth without receiving a stain?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a woman!&#8221; he thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      Before knowing her, he loved her.&nbsp; Now he was convulsed by one of
      those exclusive passions which master the whole being.&nbsp; Already he
      felt himself so much under the charm, subjugated, dominated, fascinated;
      he understood so well that he was going to cease being his own master;
      that his free will was about escaping from him; that he would be in Mlle.
      Lucienne&rsquo;s hands like wax under the modeler&rsquo;s fingers; he saw himself so
      thoroughly at the discretion of an energy superior to his own, that he was
      almost frightened.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s my whole future that I am going to risk,&#8221; he thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      And there was no middle path.&nbsp; Either he must fly at once, without
      waiting for Mlle. Lucienne to awake, fly without looking behind, or else
      stay, and then accept all the chances of an incurable passion for a woman
      who, perhaps, might never care for him.&nbsp; And he remained wavering,
      like the traveler who finds himself at the intersection of two roads, and,
      knowing that one leads to the goal, and the other to an abyss, hesitates
      which to take.
    </p>
    <p>
      With this difference, however, that if the traveler errs, and discovers
      his error, he is always free to retrace his steps; whereas man, in life,
      can never return to his starting-point.&nbsp; Every step he takes is
      final; and if he has erred, if he has taken the fatal road, there is no
      remedy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, no matter!&#8221; exclaimed Maxence.&nbsp; &#8220;It shall
      not be said that through cowardice I have allowed that happiness to escape
      which passes within my reach.&nbsp; I shall stay.&#8221;&nbsp; And at once
      he began to examine what reasonably he might expect; for there was no
      mistaking Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s intentions.&nbsp; When she had said, &#8220;Do
      you wish to be friends?&#8221; she had meant exactly that, and nothing
      else,&#8212;friends, and only friends.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; thought Maxence, &#8220;if I had not inspired her
      with a real interest, would she have so wholly confided unto me?&nbsp; She
      is not ignorant of the fact that I love her; and she knows life too well
      to suppose that I will cease to love her when she has allowed me a certain
      amount of intimacy.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      His heart filled with hope at the idea.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My mistress,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;never, evidently, but my
      wife.&nbsp; Why not?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the very next moment he became a prey to the bitterest discouragement.&nbsp;
      He thought that perhaps Mlle. Lucienne might have some capital interest in
      thus making a confidant of him.&nbsp; She had not told him the explanation
      given her by the peace-officer.&nbsp; Had she not, perhaps, succeeded in
      lifting a corner of the veil which covered the secret of her birth?&nbsp;
      Was she on the track of her enemies? and had she discovered the motive of
      their animosity?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it possible,&#8221; thought Maxence, &#8220;that I should be but
      one of the powers in the game she is playing?&nbsp; How do I know, that,
      if she wins, she will not cast me off?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In the midst of these thoughts, he had gradually fallen asleep, murmuring
      to the last the name of Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      The creaking of his opening door woke him up suddenly.&nbsp; He started to
      his feet, and met Mlle. Lucienne coming in.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How is this?&#8221; said she.&nbsp; &#8220;You did not go to bed?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You recommended me to reflect,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;I&rsquo;ve
      been reflecting.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He looked at his watch:&nbsp; it was twelve o&rsquo;clock.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Which, however,&#8221; he added, &#8220;did not keep me from going
      to sleep.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      All the doubts that besieged him at the moment when he had been overcome
      by sleep now came back to his mind with painful vividness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And not only have I been sleeping,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;but I
      have been dreaming too.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne fixed upon him her great black eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can you tell me your dream?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      He hesitated.&nbsp; Had he had but one minute to reflect, perhaps he would
      not have spoken; but he was taken unawares.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I dreamed,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;that we were friends in the
      noblest and purest acceptance of that word.&nbsp; Intelligence, heart,
      will, all that I am, and all that I can,&#8212;I laid every thing at your
      feet.&nbsp; You accepted the most entire devotion, the most respectful and
      the most tender that man is capable of.&nbsp; Yes, we were friends indeed;
      and upon a glimpse of love, never expressed, I planned a whole future of
      love.&#8221;&nbsp; He stopped.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, when my hopes seemed on the point of being realized, it
      happened that the mystery of your birth was suddenly revealed to you.&nbsp;
      You found a noble, powerful, and wealthy family.&nbsp; You resumed the
      illustrious name of which you had been robbed; your enemies were crushed;
      and your rights were restored to you.&nbsp; It was no longer Van Klopen&rsquo;s
      hired carriage that stopped in front of the Hotel des Folies, but a
      carriage bearing a gorgeous coat of arms.&nbsp; That carriage was yours;
      and it came to take you to your own residence in the Faubourg St. Germain,
      or to your ancestral manor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yourself?&#8221; inquired the girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence repressed one of those nervous spasms which frequently break out
      in tears, and, with a gloomy look,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I,&#8221; he answered, &#8220;standing on the edge of the pavement,
      I waited for a word or a look from you.&nbsp; You had forgotten my very
      existence.&nbsp; Your coachman whipped his horses; they started at a
      gallop; and soon I lost sight of you.&nbsp; And then a voice, the
      inexorable voice of fate, cried to me, &#8216;Never more shalt thou see
      her!&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a superb gesture Mlle. Lucienne drew herself up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not with your heart, I trust, that you judge me, M. Maxence
      Favoral,&#8221; she uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      He trembled lest he had offended her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beseech you,&#8221; he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      But she went on in a voice vibrating with emotion,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am not of those who basely deny their past.&nbsp; Your dream will
      never be realized.&nbsp; Those things are only seen on the stage.&nbsp; If
      it did realize itself, however, if the carriage with the coat-of-arms did
      come to the door, the companion of the evil days, the friend who offered
      me his month&rsquo;s salary to pay my debt, would have a seat by my side.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That was more happiness than Maxence would have dared to hope for.&nbsp;
      He tried, in order to express his gratitude, to find some of those words
      which always seem to be lacking at the most critical moments.&nbsp; But he
      was suffocating; and the tears, accumulated by so many successive
      emotions, were rising to his eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      With a passionate impulse, he seized Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s hand, and, taking it
      to his lips, he covered it with kisses.&nbsp; Gently but resolutely she
      withdrew her hand, and, fixing upon him her beautiful clear gaze,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Friends,&#8221; she uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her accent alone would have been sufficient to dissipate the presumptuous
      illusions of Maxence, had he had any.&nbsp; But he had none.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Friends only,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;until the day when you
      shall be my wife.&nbsp; You cannot forbid me to hope.&nbsp; You love no
      one?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No one.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well since we are going to tread the path of life, let me think
      that we may find love at some turn of the road.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She made no answer.&nbsp; And thus was sealed between them a treaty of
      friendship, to which they were to remain so strictly faithful, that the
      word &#8220;love&#8221; never once rose to their lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      In appearance there was no change in their mode of life.
    </p>
    <p>
      Every morning, at seven o&rsquo;clock, Mlle. Lucienne went to M. Van Klopen&rsquo;s,
      and an hour later Maxence started for his office.&nbsp; They returned home
      at night, and spent their evenings together by the fireside.
    </p>
    <p>
      But what was easy to foresee now took place.
    </p>
    <p>
      Weak and undecided by nature, Maxence began very soon to feel the
      influence of the obstinate and energetic character of the girl.&nbsp; She
      infused, as it were, in his veins, a warmer and more generous blood.&nbsp;
      Gradually she imbued him with her ideas, and from her own will gave him
      one.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had told her in all sincerity his history, the miseries of his home, M.
      Favoral&rsquo;s parsimony and exaggerated severity, his mother&rsquo;s resigned
      timidity, and Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s resolute nature.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had concealed nothing of his past life, of his errors and his follies,
      confessing even the worst of his actions; as, for instance, having abused
      his mother&rsquo;s and sister&rsquo;s affection to extort from them all the money they
      earned.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had admitted to her that it was only with great reluctance and under
      pressure of necessity, that he worked at all; that he was far from being
      rich; that although he took his dinner with his parents, his salary barely
      sufficed for his wants; and that he had debts.
    </p>
    <p>
      He hoped, however, he added, that it would not be always thus, and that,
      sooner or later, he would see the termination of all this misery and
      privation; for his father had at least fifty thousand francs a year and
      some day he must be rich.
    </p>
    <p>
      Far from smiling, Mlle. Lucienne frowned at such a prospect.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! your father is a millionaire, is he?&#8221; she interrupted.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Well, I understand now how, at twenty-five, after refusing all the
      positions which have been offered to you, you have no position.&nbsp; You
      relied on your father, instead of relying on yourself.&nbsp; Judging that
      he worked hard enough for two, you bravely folded your arms, waiting for
      the fortune which he is amassing, and which you seem to consider yours.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Such morality seemed a little steep to Maxence.&nbsp; &#8220;I think,&#8221;
      he began, &#8220;that, if one is the son of a rich man&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;One has the right to be useless, I suppose?&#8221; added the girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not mean that; but&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is no but about it.&nbsp; And the proof that your views are
      wrong, is that they have brought you where you are, and deprived you of
      your own free will.&nbsp; To place one&rsquo;s self at the mercy of another, be
      that other your own father, is always silly; and one is always at the
      mercy of the man from whom he expects money that he has not earned.&nbsp;
      Your father would never have been so harsh, had he not believed that you
      could not do without him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He wanted to discuss:&nbsp; she stopped him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you wish the proof that you are at M. Favoral&rsquo;s mercy?&#8221;
      she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Very well.&nbsp; You spoke of marrying me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, if you were willing!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well.&nbsp; Go and speak of it to your father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I suppose&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You don&rsquo;t suppose any thing at all:&nbsp; you are absolutely
      certain that he will refuse you his consent.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I could do without it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I admit that you could.&nbsp; But do you know what he would do
      then?&nbsp; He would arrange things in such a way that you would never get
      a centime of his fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had never thought of that.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Therefore,&#8221; the young girl went on gayly, &#8220;though there
      is as yet no question of marriage, learn to secure your independence; that
      is, the means of living.&nbsp; And to that effect let us work.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was from that moment, that Mme. Favoral had noticed in her son the
      change that had surprised her so much.
    </p>
    <p>
      Under the inspiration, under the impulsion, of Mlle. Lucienne, Maxence had
      been suddenly taken with a zeal for work, and a desire to earn money, of
      which he could not have been suspected.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was no longer late at his office, and had not, at the end of each
      month, ten or fifteen francs&rsquo; fines to pay.
    </p>
    <p>
      Every morning, as soon as she was up, Mlle. Lucienne came to knock at his
      door.&nbsp; &#8220;Come, get up!&#8221; she cried to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      And quick he jumped out of bed and dressed, so that he might bid her
      good-morning before she left.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the evening, the last mouthful of his dinner was hardly swallowed,
      before he began copying the documents which he procured from M.
      Chapelain&rsquo;s successor.
    </p>
    <p>
      And often he worked quite late in the night whilst by his side Mlle.
      Lucienne applied herself to some work of embroidery.
    </p>
    <p>
      The girl was the cashier of the association; and she administered the
      common capital with such skillful and such scrupulous economy, that
      Maxence soon succeeded in paying off his creditors.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know,&#8221; she was saying at the end of December, &#8220;that,
      between us, we have earned over six hundred francs this month?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      On Sundays only, after a week of which not a minute had been lost, they
      indulged in some little recreation.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the weather was not too bad, they went out together, dined in some
      modest restaurant, and finished the day at the theatre.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having thus a common existence, both young, free, and having their rooms
      divided only by a narrow passage it was difficult that people should
      believe in the innocence of their intercourse.&nbsp; The proprietors of
      the Hotel des Folies believed nothing of the kind; and they were not alone
      in that opinion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne having continued to show herself in the Bois on the
      afternoons when the weather was fine, the number of fools who annoyed her
      with their attentions had greatly increased.&nbsp; Among the most
      obstinate could be numbered M. Costeclar, who was pleased to declare, upon
      his word of honor, that he had lost his sleep, and his taste for business,
      since the day when, together with M. Saint Pavin, he had first seen Mlle.
      Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      The efforts of his valet, and the letters which he had written, having
      proved useless, M. Costeclar had made up his mind to act in person; and
      gallantly he had come to put himself on guard in front of the Hotel des
      Folies.
    </p>
    <p>
      Great was his surprise, when he saw Mlle. Lucienne coming out arm in arm
      with Maxence; and greater still was his spite.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That girl is a fool,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;to prefer to me a
      fellow who has not two hundred francs a month to spend.&nbsp; But never
      mind!&nbsp; He laughs best who laughs last.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as he was a man fertile in expedients, he went the next day to take a
      walk in the neighborhood of the Mutual Credit; and, having met M. Favoral
      by chance, he told him how his son Maxence was ruining himself for a young
      lady whose toilets were a scandal, insinuating delicately that it was his
      duty, as the head of the family, to put a stop to such a thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was precisely the time when Maxence was endeavoring to obtain a
      situation in the office of the Mutual Credit.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is true that the idea was not original with him, and that he had even
      vehemently rejected it, when, for the first time, Mlle. Lucienne had
      suggested it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; had he exclaimed, &#8220;be employed in the same
      establishment as my father?&nbsp; Suffer at the office the same
      intolerable despotism as at home?&nbsp; I&rsquo;d rather break stones on the
      roads.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mlle. Lucienne was not the girl to give up so easily a project
      conceived and carefully matured by herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      She returned to the charge with that infinite art of women, who understand
      so marvelously well how to turn a position which they cannot carry in
      front.&nbsp; She kept the matter so well before him, she spoke of it so
      often and so much, on every occasion, and under all pretexts, that he
      ended by persuading himself that it was the only reasonable and practical
      thing he could do, the only way in which he had any chance of making his
      fortune; and so, one evening overcoming his last hesitations,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am going to speak about it to my father,&#8221; he said to Mlle.
      Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      But whether he had been influenced by M. Costeclar&rsquo;s insinuations, or for
      some other reason, M. Favoral had rejected indignantly his son&rsquo;s request,
      saying that it was impossible to trust a young man who was ruining himself
      for the sake of a miserable creature.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had become crimson with rage on hearing the woman spoken of thus,
      whom he loved to madness, and who, far from ruining him, was making him.
    </p>
    <p>
      He returned to the Hotel des Folies in an indescribable state of
      exasperation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There&rsquo;s the result,&#8221; he said to Mlle. Lucienne, &#8220;of the
      step which you have urged me so strongly to take.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She seemed neither surprised nor irritated.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well,&#8221; she replied simply.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence could not resign himself so quietly to such a cruel
      disappointment; and, not having the slightest suspicion of Costeclar&rsquo;s
      doings,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And such is,&#8221; he added, &#8220;the result of all the gossip
      of these stupid shop-keepers who run to see you every time you go out in
      the carriage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The girl shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.&nbsp; &#8220;I expected
      it,&#8221; she said, &#8220;the day when I accepted M. Van Klopen&rsquo;s
      offers.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Everybody believes that you are my mistress.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What matters it, since it is not so?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence did not dare to confess that this was precisely what made him
      doubly angry; and he shuddered at the thought of the ridicule that would
      certainly be heaped upon him, if the true state of the case was known.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We ought to move,&#8221; he suggested.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What&rsquo;s the use?&nbsp; Wherever we should go, it would be the same
      thing.&nbsp; Besides, I don&rsquo;t want to leave this neighborhood.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I am too much your friend not to tell you, that your reputation
      in it is absolutely lost.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have no accounts to render to any one.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Except to your friend the commissary of police, however.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A pale smile flitted upon her lips.&nbsp; &#8220;Ah!&#8221; she uttered,
      &#8220;he knows the truth.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have seen him again, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Several times.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Since we have known each other?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you never told me anything about it?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I did not think it necessary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence insisted no more; but, by the sharp pang that he felt, he realized
      how dear Mlle. Lucienne had become to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She has secrets from me,&#8221; thought he,&#8212;&#8220;from me
      who would deem it a crime to have any from her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      What secrets?&nbsp; Had she concealed from him that she was pursuing an
      object which had become, as it were, that of her whole life.&nbsp; Had she
      not told him, that with the assistance of her friend the peace-officer,
      who had now become commissary of police of the district, she hoped to
      penetrate the mystery of her birth, and to revenge herself on the
      villains, who, three times, had attempted to do away with her?
    </p>
    <p>
      She had never mentioned her projects again; but it was evident that she
      had not abandoned them, for she would at the same time have given up her
      rides to the bois, which were to her an abominable torment.
    </p>
    <p>
      But passion can neither reason nor discuss.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She mistrusts me, who would give my life for hers,&#8221; repeated
      Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      And the idea was so painful to him, that he resolved to clear his doubts
      at any cost, preferring the worst misery to the anxiety which was gnawing
      at his heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      And as soon as he found himself alone with Mlle. Lucienne, arming himself
      with all his courage, and looking her straight in the eyes,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You never speak to me any more of your enemies?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      She doubtless understood what was passing within him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s because I don&rsquo;t hear any thing of them myself,&#8221; she
      answered gently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you have given up your purpose?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not at all.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What are your hopes, then, and what are your prospects?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Extraordinary as it may seem to you, I must confess that I know
      nothing about it.&nbsp; My friend the commissary has his plan, I am
      certain; and he is following it with an indefatigable obstinacy.&nbsp; I
      am but an instrument in his hands.&nbsp; I never do any thing without
      consulting him; and what he advises me to do I do.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence started upon his chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Was it he, then,&#8221; he said in a tone of bitter irony, &#8220;who
      suggested to you the idea of our fraternal association?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A frown appeared upon the girl&rsquo;s countenance.&nbsp; She evidently felt
      hurt by the tone of this species of interrogatory.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At least he did not disapprove of it,&#8221; she replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      But that answer was just evasive enough to excite Maxence&rsquo;s anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Was it from him too,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;that came the lovely
      idea of having me enter the Mutual Credit?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, it was from him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For what purpose?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He did not explain.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why did you not tell me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because he requested me not to do so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      From being red at the start, Maxence had now become very pale.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And so,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;it is that man, that
      police-agent, who is the real arbiter of my fate; and if to-morrow he
      commanded you to break off with me&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne drew herself up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough!&#8221; she interrupted in a brief tone, &#8220;enough!&nbsp;
      There is not in my whole existence a single act which would give to my
      bitterest enemy the right to suspect my loyalty; and now you accuse me of
      the basest treason.&nbsp; What have you to reproach me with?&nbsp; Have I
      not been faithful to the pact sworn between us.&nbsp; Have I not always
      been for you the best of comrades and the most devoted of friends?&nbsp; I
      remained silent, because the man in whom I have the fullest confidence
      requested me to do so; but he knew, that, if you questioned me, I would
      speak.&nbsp; Did you question me?&nbsp; And now what more do you want?&nbsp;
      That I should stoop to quiet the suspicions of your morbid mind?&nbsp;
      That I do not mean to do.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was not, perhaps, entirely right; but Maxence was certainly wrong.&nbsp;
      He acknowledged it, wept, implored her pardon, which was granted; and this
      explanation only served to rivet more closely the fetters that bound him.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is true, that, availing himself of the permission that had been granted
      him, he kept himself constantly informed of Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s doings.&nbsp;
      He learnt from her that her friend the commissary had held a most minute
      investigation at Louveciennes, and that the footman who went to the bois
      with her was now, in reality, a detective.&nbsp; And at last, one day,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My friend the commissary,&#8221; she said, &#8220;thinks he is on
      the right track now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXIX
    </h2>
    <p>
      Such was the exact situation of Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne on that
      eventful Saturday evening in the month of April, 1872, when the police
      came to arrest M. Vincent Favoral, on the charge of embezzlement and
      forgery.
    </p>
    <p>
      It will be remembered, how, at his mother&rsquo;s request, Maxence had spent
      that night in the Rue St. Gilles, and how, the next morning, unable any
      longer to resist his eager desire to see Mlle. Lucienne, he had started
      for the Hotel des Folies, leaving his sister alone at home.
    </p>
    <p>
      He retired to his room, as she had requested him, and, sinking upon his
      old arm-chair in a fit of the deepest distress,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is singing,&#8221; he murmured:&nbsp; &#8220;Mme. Fortin has
      not told her any thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And at the same moment Mlle. Lucienne had resumed her song, the words of
      which reached him like a bitter raillery,
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;Hope!&nbsp; O sweet, deceiving word!&nbsp; <br /> Mad indeed is
        he, <br /> Who does think he can trust thee, <br /> And take thy coin can
        afford.&nbsp; <br /> Over his door every one <br /> Will hang thee to his
        sorrow, <br /> Then saying of days begone, <br /> &#8216;Cash to-day,
        credit to-morrow!&#8217;&nbsp; <br /> &lsquo;Tis very nice to run; <br /> But to
        have is better fun!&#8221;
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      &#8220;What will she say,&#8221; thought Maxence, &#8220;when she learns
      the horrible truth?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he felt a cold perspiration starting on his temples when he remembered
      Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s pride, and that honor has her only faith, the
      safety-plank to which she had desperately clung in the midst of the storms
      of her life.&nbsp; What if she should leave him, now that the name he bore
      was disgraced!
    </p>
    <p>
      A rapid and light step on the landing drew him from his gloomy thoughts.&nbsp;
      Almost immediately, the door opened, and Mlle. Lucienne came in.
    </p>
    <p>
      She must have dressed in haste; for she was just finishing hooking her
      dress, the simplicity of which seemed studied, so marvelously did it set
      off the elegance of her figure, the splendors of her waist, and the rare
      perfections of her shoulders and of her neck.
    </p>
    <p>
      A look of intense dissatisfaction could be read upon her lovely features;
      but, as soon as she had seen Maxence, her countenance changed.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, in fact, his look of utter distress, the disorder of his garments,
      his livid paleness, and the sinister look of his eyes, showed plainly
      enough that a great misfortune had befallen him.&nbsp; In a voice whose
      agitation betrayed something more than the anxiety and the sympathy of a
      friend,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter?&nbsp; What has happened?&#8221; inquired the
      girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A terrible misfortune,&#8221; he replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was hesitating:&nbsp; he wished to tell every thing at once, and knew
      not how to begin.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have told you,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that my family was very
      rich.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, we have nothing left, absolutely nothing!&#8221;&nbsp; She
      seemed to breathe more freely, and, in a tone of friendly irony,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And it is the loss of your fortune,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that
      distresses you thus?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He raised himself painfully to his feet, and, in a low hoarse voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Honor is lost too,&#8221; he uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Honor?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&nbsp; My father has stolen:&nbsp; my father has forged!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She had become whiter than her collar.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your father!&#8221; she stammered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&nbsp; For years he has been using the money that was intrusted
      to him, until the deficit now amounts to twelve millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Great heavens!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, notwithstanding the enormity of that sum, he was reduced,
      during the latter months, to the most miserable expedients,&#8212;going
      from door to door in the neighborhood, soliciting deposits, until he
      actually basely swindled a poor newspaper-vender out of five hundred
      francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, this is madness!&nbsp; And how did you find out?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Last night they came to arrest him.&nbsp; Fortunately we had been
      notified; and I helped him to escape through a window of my sister&rsquo;s room,
      which opens on the yard of an adjoining house.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And where is he now?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who knows?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Had he any money?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Everybody thinks that he carries off millions.&nbsp; I do not
      believe it.&nbsp; He even refused to take the few thousand francs which M.
      de Thaller had brought him to facilitate his flight.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne shuddered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Did you see M. de Thaller?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He got to the house a few moments in advance of the commissary of
      police; and a terrible scene took place between him and my father.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What was he saying?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That my father had ruined him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And your father?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He stammered incoherent phrases.&nbsp; He was like a man who has
      received a stunning blow.&nbsp; But we have discovered incredible things.&nbsp;
      My father, so austere and so parsimonious at home, led a merry life
      elsewhere, spending money without stint.&nbsp; It was for a woman that he
      robbed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And&#8212;do you know who that woman is?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No.&nbsp; But I can find out from the writer of the article in this
      paper, who says that he knows her.&nbsp; See!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne took the paper which Maxence was holding out to her:&nbsp;
      but she hardly condescended to look at it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But what&rsquo;s your idea now?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not believe that my father is innocent; but I believe that
      there are people more guilty than he,&#8212;skillful and prudent knaves,
      who have made use of him as a man of straw,&#8212;villains who will
      quietly digest their share of the millions (the biggest one, of course),
      while he will be sent to prison.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A fugitive blush colored Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s cheeks.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That being the case,&#8221; she interrupted, &#8220;what do you
      expect to do?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Avenge my father, if possible, and discover his accomplices, if he
      has any.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She held out her hand to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s right,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;But how will you go
      about it?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I don&rsquo;t know yet.&nbsp; At any rate, I must first of all run to the
      newspaper office, and get that woman&rsquo;s address.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Mlle. Lucienne stopped him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No,&#8221; she uttered:&nbsp; &#8220;it isn&rsquo;t there that you must
      go.&nbsp; You must come with me to see my friend the commissary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence received this suggestion with a gesture of surprise, almost of
      terror.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, how can you think of such a thing?&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp;
      &#8220;My father is fleeing from justice; and you want me to take for my
      confidant a commissary of police,&#8212;the very man whose duty it is to
      arrest him, if he can find him!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he interrupted himself for a moment, staring and gaping, as if the
      truth had suddenly flashed upon his mind in dazzling evidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For my father has not gone abroad,&#8221; he went on.&nbsp; &#8220;It
      is in Paris that he is hiding:&nbsp; I am sure of it.&nbsp; You have seen
      him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne really thought that Maxence was losing his mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have seen your father&#8212;I?&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, last evening.&nbsp; How could I have forgotten it?&nbsp; While
      you were waiting for me down stairs, between eleven and half-past eleven a
      middle-aged man, thin, wearing a long overcoat, came and asked for me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I remember.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He spoke to you in the yard.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s a fact.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What did he tell you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She hesitated for a moment, evidently trying to tax her memory; then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;that he had not already said
      before the Fortins; that he wanted to see you on important business, and
      was sorry not to find you in.&nbsp; What surprised me, though, is, that he
      was speaking as if he knew me, and knew that I was a friend of yours.&#8221;&nbsp;
      Then, striking her forehead,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perhaps you are right,&#8221; she went on.&nbsp; &#8220;Perhaps
      that man was indeed your father.&nbsp; Wait a minute.&nbsp; Yes, he seemed
      quite excited, and at every moment he looked around towards the door.&nbsp;
      He said it would be impossible for him to return, but that he would write
      to you, and that probably he would require your assistance and your
      services.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see,&#8221; exclaimed Maxence, almost crazy with subdued
      excitement, &#8220;it was my father.&nbsp; He is going to write; to
      return, perhaps; and, under the circumstances, to apply to a commissary of
      police would be sheer folly, almost treason.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shook her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So much the more reason,&#8221; she uttered, &#8220;why you should
      follow my advice.&nbsp; Have you ever had occasion to repent doing so?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, but you may be mistaken.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am not mistaken.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She expressed herself in a tone of such absolute certainty, that Maxence,
      in the disorder of his mind, was at a loss to know what to imagine, what
      to believe.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must have some reason to urge me thus,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why not tell it to me then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because I should have no proofs to furnish you of my assertions.&nbsp;
      Because I should have to go into details which you would not understand.&nbsp;
      Because, above all, I am following one of those inexplicable presentiments
      which never deceive.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was evident that she was not willing to unveil her whole mind; and yet
      Maxence felt himself terribly staggered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Think of my agony,&#8221; he said, &#8220;if I were to cause my
      father&rsquo;s arrest.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would my own be less?&nbsp; Can any misfortune strike you without
      reaching me?&nbsp; Let us reason a little.&nbsp; What were you saying a
      moment since?&nbsp; That certainly your father is not as guilty as people
      think; at any rate, that he is not alone guilty; that he has been but the
      instrument of rascals more skillful and more powerful than himself; and
      that he has had but a small share of the twelve millions?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Such is my absolute conviction.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And that you would like to deliver up to justice the villains who
      have benefitted by your father&rsquo;s crime, and who think themselves sure of
      impunity?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Tears of anger fell from Maxence&rsquo;s eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you wish to take away all my courage?&#8221; he murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No; but I wish to demonstrate to you the necessity of the step
      which I advise you to take.&nbsp; The end justifies the means; and we have
      not the choice of means.&nbsp; Come, &lsquo;tis to an honest man and a tried
      friend that I shall take you.&nbsp; Fear nothing.&nbsp; If he remembers
      that he is commissary of police, it will be to serve us, not to injure
      you.&nbsp; You hesitate?&nbsp; Perhaps at this moment he already knows
      more than we do ourselves.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence took a sudden resolution.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well,&#8221; he said:&nbsp; &#8220;let us go.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In less than five minutes they were off; and, as they went out, they had
      to disturb Mme. Fortin, who stood at the door, gossiping with two or three
      of the neighboring shop-keepers.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne were out of hearing,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see that young man,&#8221; said the honorable proprietress of
      the Hotel des Folies to her interlocutors.&nbsp; &#8220;Well, he is the
      son of that famous cashier who has just run off with twelve millions,
      after ruining a thousand families.&nbsp; It don&rsquo;t seem to trouble him,
      either; for there he is, going out to spend a pleasant day with his
      mistress, and to treat her to a fine dinner with the old man&rsquo;s money.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, Maxence and Lucienne reached the commissary&rsquo;s house.&nbsp; He
      was at home; they walked in.&nbsp; And, as soon as they appeared,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I expected you,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was a man already past middle age, but active and vigorous still.&nbsp;
      With his white cravat and long frock-coat, he looked like a notary.&nbsp;
      Benign was the expression of his countenance; but the lustre of his little
      gray eyes, and the mobility of his nostrils, showed that it should not be
      trusted too far.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I expected you,&#8221; he repeated, addressing himself as much
      to Maxence as to Mlle. Lucienne.&nbsp; &#8220;It is the Mutual Credit
      matter which brings you here?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence stepped forward,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s son, sir,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      have still my mother and a sister.&nbsp; Our situation is horrible.&nbsp;
      Mlle. Lucienne suggested that you might be willing to give me some advice;
      and here we are.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary rang, and, on the bell being answered,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am at home for no one,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      And then turning to Maxence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mlle. Lucienne did well to bring you,&#8221; he said; &#8220;for it
      may be, that, whilst rendering her an important service, I may also render
      you one.&nbsp; But I have no time to lose.&nbsp; Sit down, and tell me all
      about it.&#8221;&nbsp; With the most scrupulous exactness Maxence told the
      history of his family, and the events of the past twenty-four hours.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not once did the commissary interrupt him; but, when he had done,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Tell me your father&rsquo;s interview with M. de Thaller all over again,&#8221;
      he requested, &#8220;and, especially, do not omit any thing that you have
      heard or seen, not a word, not a gesture, not a look.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, Maxence having complied,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now,&#8221; said the commissary, &#8220;repeat every thing your
      father said at the moment of going.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He did so.&nbsp; The commissary took a few notes, and then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What were,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;the relations of your family
      with the Thaller family?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There were none.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&nbsp; Neither Mme. nor Mlle. de Thaller ever visited you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know the Marquis de Tregars?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence stared in surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Tregars!&#8221; he repeated.&nbsp; &#8220;It&rsquo;s the first time that
      I hear that name.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The usual clients of the commissary would have hesitated to recognize him,
      so completely had he set aside his professional stiffness, so much had his
      freezing reserve given way to the most encouraging kindness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now, then,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;never mind M. de Tregars:&nbsp;
      let us talk of the woman, who, you seem to think, has been the cause of M.
      Favoral&rsquo;s ruin.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      On the table before him lay the paper in which Maxence had read in the
      morning the terrible article headed:&nbsp; &#8220;Another Financial
      Disaster.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know nothing of that woman,&#8221; he replied; &#8220;but it must
      be easy to find out, since the writer of this article pretends to know.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary smiled, not having quite as much faith in newspapers as
      Maxence seemed to have.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I read that,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We might send to the office of that paper,&#8221; suggested Mlle.
      Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have already sent, my child.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without noticing the surprise of Maxence and of the young girl, he
      rang the bell, and asked whether his secretary had returned.&nbsp; The
      secretary answered by appearing in person.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221; inquired the commissary.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have attended to the matter, sir,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I saw the reporter who wrote the article in question; and, after
      beating about the bush for some time, he finally confessed that he knew
      nothing more than had been published, and that he had obtained his
      information from two intimate friends of the cashier, M. Costeclar and M.
      Saint Pavin.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You should have gone to see those gentlemen.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I did.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well.&nbsp; What then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately, M. Costeclar had just gone out.&nbsp; As to M. Saint
      Pavin, I found him at the office of his paper, &#8216;The Financial Pilot.&#8217;&nbsp;
      He is a coarse and vulgar personage, and received me like a pickpocket.&nbsp;
      I had even a notion to&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never mind that!&nbsp; Go on.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He was closeted with another gentleman, a banker, named Jottras, of
      the house of Jottras and Brother.&nbsp; They were both in a terrible rage,
      swearing like troopers, and saying that the Favoral defalcation would ruin
      them; that they had been taken in like fools, but that they were not going
      to take things so easy, and they were preparing a crushing article.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he stopped, winking, and pointing to Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne, who
      were listening as attentively as they could.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Speak, speak!&#8221; said the commissary.&nbsp; &#8220;Fear
      nothing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;M.&nbsp; Saint Pavin and M. Jottras
      were saying that M. Favoral was only a poor dupe, but that they would know
      how to find the others.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What others?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! they didn&rsquo;t say.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary shrugged his shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;you find yourself in presence of
      two men furious to have been duped, who swear and threaten, and you can&rsquo;t
      get from them a name that you want?&nbsp; You are not very smart, my dear!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And as the poor secretary, somewhat put out of countenance, looked down,
      and said nothing,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Did you at least ask them,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;who the woman
      is to whom the article refers, and whose existence they have revealed to
      the reporter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course I did, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what did they answer?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That they were not spies, and had nothing to say.&nbsp; M. Saint
      Pavin added, however, that he had said it without much thought, and only
      because he had once seen M. Favoral buying a three thousand francs
      bracelet, and also because it seemed impossible to him that a man should
      do away with millions without the aid of a woman.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary could not conceal his ill humor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course!&#8221; he grumbled.&nbsp; &#8220;Since Solomon said,
      &#8216;Look for the woman&#8217; (for it was King Solomon who first said
      it), every fool thinks it smart to repeat with a cunning look that most
      obvious of truths.&nbsp; What next?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Saint Pavin politely invited me to go to&#8212;well, not
      here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary wrote rapidly a few lines, put them in an envelope, which
      he sealed with his private seal, and handed it to his secretary, saying,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That will do.&nbsp; Take this to the prefecture yourself.&#8221;&nbsp;
      And, after the secretary had gone out,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, M. Maxence,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you have heard?&#8221;&nbsp;
      Of course he had.&nbsp; Only Maxence was thinking much less of what he had
      just heard than of the strange interest this commissary had taken in his
      affairs, even before he had seen him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think,&#8221; he stammered, &#8220;that it is very unfortunate
      the woman cannot be found.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a gesture full of confidence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be easy,&#8221; said the commissary:&nbsp; &#8220;she shall be
      found.&nbsp; A woman cannot swallow millions at that rate, without
      attracting attention.&nbsp; Believe me, we shall find her, unless&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He paused for a moment, and, speaking slowly and emphatically,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unless,&#8221; he added, &#8220;she should have behind her a very
      skillful and very prudent man.&nbsp; Or else that she should be in a
      situation where her extravagance could not have created any scandal.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne started.&nbsp; She fancied she understood the commissary&rsquo;s
      idea, and could catch a glimpse of the truth.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Good heavens!&#8221; she murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence didn&rsquo;t notice any thing, his mind being wholly bent upon
      following the commissary&rsquo;s deductions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Or unless,&#8221; he said, &#8220;my father should have received
      almost nothing for his share of the enormous sums subtracted from the
      Mutual Credit, in which case he could have given relatively but little to
      that woman.&nbsp; M. Saint Pavin himself acknowledges that my father has
      been egregiously taken in.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By whom?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence hesitated for a moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think,&#8221; he said at last, &#8220;and several friends of my
      family (among whom M. Chapelain, an old lawyer) think as I do, that it is
      very strange that my father should have drawn millions from the Mutual
      Credit without any knowledge of the fact on the part of the manager.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then, according to you, M. de Thaller must be an accomplice.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence made no answer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be it so,&#8221; insisted the commissary.&nbsp; &#8220;I admit M.
      de Thaller&rsquo;s complicity; but then we must suppose that he had over your
      father some powerful means of action.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;An employer always has a great deal of influence over his
      subordinates.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;An influence sufficiently powerful to make them run the risk of the
      galleys for his benefit!&nbsp; That is not likely.&nbsp; We must try and
      imagine something else.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am trying; but I don&rsquo;t find any thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet it is not all.&nbsp; How do you explain your father&rsquo;s
      silence when M. de Thaller was heaping upon him the most outrageous
      insults?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My father was stunned, as it were.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And at the moment of escaping, if he did have any accomplices, how
      is it that he did not mention their names to you, to your mother, or to
      your sister?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because, doubtless, he had no proofs of their complicity to offer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would you have asked him for any?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;O sir!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Therefore such is not evidently the motive of his silence; and it
      might better be attributed to some secret hope that he still had left.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary now had all the information, which, voluntarily or
      otherwise, Maxence was able to give him.&nbsp; He rose, and in the kindest
      tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have come,&#8221; he said to him, &#8220;to ask me for advice.&nbsp;
      Here it is:&nbsp; say nothing, and wait.&nbsp; Allow justice and the
      police to pursue their work.&nbsp; Whatever may be your suspicions, hide
      them.&nbsp; I shall do for you as I would for Lucienne, whom I love as if
      she were my own child; for it so happens, that, in helping you, I shall
      help her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He could not help laughing at the astonishment, which at those words
      depicted itself upon Maxence&rsquo;s face; and gayly,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You don&rsquo;t understand,&#8221; he added.&nbsp; &#8220;Well, never
      mind.&nbsp; It is not necessary that you should.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XXX
    </h2>
    <p>
      Two o&rsquo;clock struck as Mlle. Lucienne and Maxence left the office of the
      commissary of police, she pensive and agitated, he gloomy and irritated.&nbsp;
      They reached the Hotel des Folies without exchanging a word.&nbsp; Mme.
      Fortin was again at the door, speechifying in the midst of a group with
      indefatigable volubility.&nbsp; Indeed, it was a perfect godsend for her,
      the fact of lodging the son of that cashier who had stolen twelve
      millions, and had thus suddenly become a celebrity.&nbsp; Seeing Maxence
      and Mlle. Lucienne coming, she stepped toward them, and, with her most
      obsequious smile,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Back already?&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      But they made no answer; and, entering the narrow corridor, they hurried
      to their fourth story.&nbsp; As he entered his room, Maxence threw his hat
      upon his bed with a gesture of impatience; and, after walking up and down
      for a moment, he returned to plant himself in front of Mlle. Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; he said, &#8220;are you satisfied now?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She looked at him with an air of profound commiseration, knowing his
      weakness too well to be angry at his injustice.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of what should I be satisfied?&#8221; she asked gently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have done what you wished me to.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You did what reason dictated, my friend.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well:&nbsp; we won&rsquo;t quarrel about words.&nbsp; I have seen
      your friend the commissary.&nbsp; Am I any better off?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What did you expect of him, then?&#8221; she asked.&nbsp; &#8220;Did
      you think that he could undo what is done?&nbsp; Did you suppose, that, by
      the sole power of his will, he would make up the deficit in the Mutual
      Credit&rsquo;s cash, and rehabilitate your father?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, I am not quite mad yet.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, then, could he do more than promise you his most ardent and
      devoted co-operation?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he did not allow her to proceed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And how do I know,&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;that he is not
      trifling with me?&nbsp; If he was sincere, why his reticence and his
      enigmas?&nbsp; He pretends that I may rely on him, because to serve me is
      to serve you.&nbsp; What does that mean?&nbsp; What connection is there
      between your situation and mine, between your enemies and those of my
      father?&nbsp; And I&#8212;I replied to all his questions like a simpleton.&nbsp;
      Poor fool!&nbsp; But the man who drowns catches at straws; and I am
      drowning, I am sinking, I am foundering.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He sank upon a chair, and, hiding his face in his hands,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, how I do suffer!&#8221; he groaned.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne approached him, and in a severe tone, despite her emotion,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you, then, such a coward?&#8221; she uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;What!
      at the first misfortune that strikes you,&#8212;and this is the first real
      misfortune of your life, Maxence,&#8212;you despair.&nbsp; An obstacle
      rises, and, instead of gathering all your energy to overcome it, you sit
      down and weep like a woman.&nbsp; Who, then, is to inspire courage in your
      mother and in your sister, if you give up so?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At the sound of these words, uttered by that voice which was all-powerful
      over his soul, Maxence looked up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I thank you, my friend,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;I thank you
      for reminding me of what I owe to my mother and sister.&nbsp; Poor women!&nbsp;
      They are wondering, doubtless, what has become of me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must return to them,&#8221; interrupted the girl.
    </p>
    <p>
      He got up resolutely.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I will,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;I should be unworthy of you
      if I could not raise my own energy to the level of yours.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, having pressed her hand, he left.&nbsp; But it was not by the usual
      route that he reached the Rue St. Gilles.&nbsp; He made a long detour, so
      as not to meet any of his acquaintances.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here you are at last,&#8221; said the servant as she opened the
      door.&nbsp; &#8220;Madame was getting very uneasy, I can tell you.&nbsp;
      She is in the parlor, with Mlle. Gilberte and M. Chapelain.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was so.&nbsp; After his fruitless attempt to reach M. de Thaller, M.
      Chapelain had breakfasted there, and had remained, wishing, he said, to
      see Maxence.&nbsp; And so, as soon as the young man appeared, availing
      himself of the privileges of his age and his old intimacy,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How,&#8221; said he, &#8220;dare you leave your mother and sister
      alone in a house where some brutal creditor may come in at any moment?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was wrong,&#8221; said Maxence, who preferred to plead guilty
      rather than attempt an explanation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t do it again then,&#8221; resumed M. Chapelain.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      was waiting for you to say that I was unable to see M. de Thaller, and
      that I do not care to face once more the impudence of his valets.&nbsp;
      You will, therefore, have to take back the fifteen thousand francs he had
      brought to your father.&nbsp; Place them in his own hands; and don&rsquo;t give
      them up without a receipt.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      After some further recommendations, he went off, leaving Mme. Favoral
      alone at last with her children.&nbsp; She was about to call Maxence to
      account for his absence, when Mlle. Gilberte interrupted her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have to speak to you, mother,&#8221; she said with a singular
      precipitation, &#8220;and to you also, brother.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And at once she began telling them of M. Costeclar&rsquo;s strange visit, his
      inconceivable audacity, and his offensive declarations.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was fairly stamping with rage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I was not here,&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;to put him out of
      the house!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But another was there; and this was just what Mlle. Gilberte wished to
      come to.&nbsp; But the avowal was difficult, painful even; and it was not
      without some degree of confusion that she resumed at last,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have suspected for a long time, mother, that I was hiding
      something from you.&nbsp; When you questioned me, I lied; not that I had
      any thing to blush for, but because I feared for you my father&rsquo;s anger.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her mother and her brother were gazing at her with a look of blank
      amazement.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I had a secret,&#8221; she continued.&nbsp; &#8220;Boldly,
      without consulting any one, trusting the sole inspirations of my heart, I
      had engaged my life to a stranger:&nbsp; I had selected the man whose wife
      I wished to be.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral raised her hands to heaven.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But this is sheer madness!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately,&#8221; went on the girl, &#8220;between that man, my
      affianced husband before God, and myself, rose a terrible obstacle.&nbsp;
      He was poor:&nbsp; he thought my father very rich; and he had asked me a
      delay of three years to conquer a fortune which might enable him to aspire
      to my hand.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She stopped:&nbsp; all the blood in her veins was rushing to her face.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This morning,&#8221; she said, &#8220;at the news of our disaster,
      he came . . .&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here?&#8221; interrupted Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, brother, here.&nbsp; He arrived at the very moment, when,
      basely insulted by M. Costeclar, I commanded him to withdraw, and, instead
      of going, he was walking towards me with outstretched arms.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He dared to penetrate here!&#8221; murmured Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, mother:&nbsp; he came in just in time to seize M. Costeclar by
      his coat-collar, and to throw him at my feet, livid with fear, and begging
      for mercy.&nbsp; He came, notwithstanding the terrible calamity that has
      befallen us.&nbsp; Notwithstanding ruin, and notwithstanding shame, he
      came to offer me his name, and to tell me, that, in the course of the day,
      he would send a friend of his family to apprise you of his intentions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Here she was interrupted by the servant, who, throwing open the
      parlor-door, announced,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Count de Villegre.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      If it had occurred to the mind of Mme. Favoral or Maxence that Mlle.
      Gilberte might have been the victim of some base intrigue, the mere
      appearance of the man who now walked in must have been enough to disabuse
      them.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was of a rather formidable aspect, with his military bearing, his bluff
      manners, his huge white mustache, and the deep scar across his forehead.
    </p>
    <p>
      But in order to be re-assured, and to feel confident, it was enough to
      look at his broad face, at once energetic and debonair, his clear eye, in
      which shone the loyalty of his soul, and his thick red lips, which had
      never opened to utter an untruth.
    </p>
    <p>
      At this moment, however, he was hardly in possession of all his faculties.
    </p>
    <p>
      That valiant man, that old soldier, was timid; and he would have felt much
      more at ease under the fire of a battery than in that humble parlor in the
      Rue St. Gilles, under the uneasy glance of Maxence and Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having bowed, having made a little friendly sign to Mlle. Gilberte, he had
      stopped short, two steps from the door, his hat in his hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      Eloquence was not his forte.&nbsp; He had prepared himself well in
      advance; but though he kept coughing:&nbsp; hum! broum! though he kept
      running his finger around his shirt-collar to facilitate his delivery, the
      beginning of his speech stuck in his throat.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seeing how urgent it was to come to his assistance,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was expecting you, sir,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; With
      this encouragement, he advanced towards Mme. Favoral, and, bowing low,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I see that my presence surprises you, madame,&#8221; he began;
      &#8220;and I must confess that&#8212;hum!&#8212;it does not surprise me
      less than it does you.&nbsp; But extraordinary circumstances require
      exceptional action.&nbsp; On any other occasion, I would not fall upon you
      like a bombshell.&nbsp; But we had no time to waste in ceremonious
      formalities.&nbsp; I will, therefore, ask your leave to introduce myself:&nbsp;
      I am General Count de Villegre.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had brought him a chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am ready to hear you, sir,&#8221; said Mme. Favoral.&nbsp; He sat
      down, and, with a further effort,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I suppose, madame,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;that your daughter has
      explained to you our singular situation, which, as I had the honor of
      telling you&#8212;hum!&#8212;is not strictly in accordance with social
      usage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte interrupted him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When you came in, general, I was only just beginning to explain the
      facts to my mother and brother.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old soldier made a gesture, and a face which showed plainly that he
      did not much relish the prospect of a somewhat difficult explanation&#8212;broum!&nbsp;
      Nevertheless, making up his mind bravely,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is very simple,&#8221; he said:&nbsp; &#8220;I come in behalf of
      M. de Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence fairly bounced upon his chair.&nbsp; That was the very name which
      he had just heard mentioned by the commissary of police.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Tregars!&#8221; he repeated in a tone of immense surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes,&#8221; said M. de Villegre.&nbsp; &#8220;Do you know him, by
      chance?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, sir, no!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Marius de Tregars is the son of the most honest man I ever knew, of
      the best friend I ever had,&#8212;of the Marquis de Tregars, in a word,
      who died of grief a few years ago, after&#8212;hum!&#8212;some quite
      inexplicable&#8212;broum!&#8212;reverses of fortune.&nbsp; Marius could
      not be dearer to me, if he were my own son.&nbsp; He has lost his parents:&nbsp;
      I have no relatives; and I have transferred to him all the feelings of
      affection which still remained at the bottom of my old heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I can say that never was a man more worthy of affection.&nbsp;
      I know him.&nbsp; To the most legitimate pride and the most scrupulous
      integrity, he unites a keen and supple mind, and wit enough to get the
      better of the toughest rascal.&nbsp; He has no fortune for the reason that&#8212;hum!&#8212;he
      gave up all he had to certain pretended creditors of his father.&nbsp; But
      whenever he wishes to be rich, he shall be; and &#8212;broum!&#8212;he may
      be so before long.&nbsp; I know his projects, his hopes, his resources.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, as if feeling that he was treading on dangerous ground, the Count de
      Villegre stopped short, and, after taking breath for a moment,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In short,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;Marius has been unable to see
      Mlle. Gilberte, and to appreciate the rare qualities of her heart, without
      falling desperately in love with her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral made a gesture of protest,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Allow me, sir,&#8221; she began.
    </p>
    <p>
      But he interrupted her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I understand you, madame,&#8221; he resumed.&nbsp; &#8220;You
      wonder how M. de Tregars can have seen your daughter, have known her, and
      have appreciated her, without your seeing or hearing any thing of it.&nbsp;
      Nothing is more simple, and, if I may venture to say&#8212;hum!&#8212;more
      natural.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And the worthy old soldier began to explain to Mme. Favoral the meetings
      in the Place-Royale, his conversations with Marius, intended really for
      Mlle. Gilberte, and the part he had consented to play in this little
      comedy.&nbsp; But he became embarrassed in his sentences, he multiplied
      his hum! and his broum! in the most alarming manner; and his explanations
      explained nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Gilberte took pity on him; and, kindly interrupting him, she herself
      told her story, and that of Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      She told the pledge they had exchanged, how they had seen each other
      twice, and how they constantly heard of each other through the very
      innocent and very unconscious Signor Gismondo Pulei.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence and Mme. Favoral were dumbfounded.&nbsp; They would have
      absolutely refused to believe such a story, had it not been told by Mlle.
      Gilberte herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, my dear sister!&#8221; thought Maxence, &#8220;who could have
      suspected such a thing, seeing you always so calm and so meek!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it possible,&#8221; Mme. Favoral was saying to herself; &#8220;that
      I can have been so blind and so deaf?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      As to the Count de Villegre, he would have tried in vain to express the
      gratitude he felt towards Mlle. Gilberte for having spared him these
      difficult explanations.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I could not have done half as well myself, by the eternal!&#8221;
      he thought, like a man who has no illusions on his own account.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, as soon as she had done, addressing himself to Mme. Favoral,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now, madame,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you know all; and you will
      understand that the irreparable disaster that strikes you has removed the
      only obstacle which had hitherto stood in the way of Marius.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He rose, and in a solemn tone, without any hum or broum, this time,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have the honor, madame,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;to solicit the
      hand of Mlle. Gilberte, your daughter, for my friend Yves-Marius de
      Genost, Marquis de Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A profound silence followed this speech.&nbsp; But this silence the Count
      de Villegre doubtless interpreted in his own favor; for, stepping to the
      parlor-door, he opened it, and called, &#8220;Marius!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius de Tregars had foreseen all that had just taken place, and had so
      informed the Count de Villegre in advance.
    </p>
    <p>
      Being given Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s disposition, he knew what could be expected of
      her; and he had his own reasons to fear nothing from Maxence.&nbsp; And,
      if he mistrusted somewhat the diplomatic talents of his ambassador, he
      relied absolutely upon Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s energy.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so confident was he of the correctness of his calculations, that he
      had insisted upon accompanying his old friend, so as to be on hand at the
      critical moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the servant had opened the door to them, he had ordered her to
      introduce M. de Villegre, stating that he would himself wait in the
      dining-room.&nbsp; This arrangement had not seemed entirely natural to the
      girl; but so many strange things had happened in the house for the past
      twenty-four hours, that she was prepared for any thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Besides recognizing Marius as the gentleman who had had a violent
      altercation in the morning with M. Costeclar, she did as he requested,
      and, leaving him alone in the dining-room, went to attend to her duties.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had taken a seat, impassive in appearance, but in reality agitated by
      that internal trepidation of which the strongest men cannot free
      themselves in the decisive moments of their life.
    </p>
    <p>
      To a certain extent, the prospects of his whole life were to be decided on
      the other side of that door which had just closed behind the Count de
      Villegre.&nbsp; To the success of his love, other interests were united,
      which required immediate success.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, counting the seconds by the beatings of his heart,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How very slow they are!&#8221; he thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so, when the door opened at last, and his old friend called him, he
      jumped to his feet, and collecting all his coolness and self-possession,
      he walked in.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had risen to receive him; but, when he saw him, he stepped back,
      his eyes glaring in utter surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, great heavens!&#8221; he muttered in a smothered voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars seemed not to notice his stupor.&nbsp; Quite
      self-possessed, notwithstanding his emotion, he cast a rapid glance over
      the Count de Villegre, Mme. Favoral and Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; At their
      attitude, and at the expression of their countenance, he easily guessed
      the point to which things had come.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, advancing towards Mme. Favoral, he bowed with an amount of respect
      which was certainly not put on.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have heard the Count de Villegre, madame,&#8221; he said in a
      slightly altered tone of voice.&nbsp; &#8220;I am awaiting my fate.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor woman had never before in all her life been so fearfully
      perplexed.&nbsp; All these events, which succeeded each other so rapidly,
      had broken the feeble springs of her soul.&nbsp; She was utterly incapable
      of collecting her thoughts, or of taking a determination.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At this moment, sir,&#8221; she stammered, taken unawares, &#8220;it
      would be impossible for me to answer you.&nbsp; Grant me a few days for
      reflection.&nbsp; We have some old friends whom I ought to consult.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence, who had got over his stupor, interrupted her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Friends, mother!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;And who are
      they?&nbsp; People in our position have no friends.&nbsp; What! when we
      are perishing, a man of heart holds out his hand to us, and you ask to
      reflect?&nbsp; To my sister, who bears a name henceforth disgraced, the
      Marquis de Tregars offers his name, and you think of consulting.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor woman was shaking her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am not the mistress, my son,&#8221; she murmured; &#8220;and your
      father&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My father!&#8221; interrupted the young man,&#8212;&#8220;my
      father!&nbsp; What rights can he have over us hereafter?&#8221;&nbsp; And
      without further discussion, without awaiting an answer, he took his
      sister&rsquo;s hand, and, placing it in M. de Tregars&rsquo; hand,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! take her, sir,&#8221; he uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;Never, whatever
      she may do, will she acquit the debt of eternal gratitude which we this
      day contract towards you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A tremor that shook their frames, a long look which they exchanged,
      betrayed alone the feelings of Marius and Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; They had
      of life a too cruel experience not to mistrust their joy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Returning to Mme. Favoral,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You do not understand, madame,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;why I
      should have selected for such a step the very moment when an irreparable
      calamity befalls you.&nbsp; One word will explain all.&nbsp; Being in a
      position to serve you, I wished to acquire the right of doing so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Fixing upon him a look in which the gloomiest despair could be read,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas!&#8221; stammered the poor woman, &#8220;what can you do for
      me, sir?&nbsp; My life is ended.&nbsp; I have but one wish left,&#8212;that
      of knowing where my husband is hid.&nbsp; It is not for me to judge him.&nbsp;
      He has not given me the happiness which I had, perhaps, the right to
      expect; but he is my husband, he is unhappy:&nbsp; my duty is to join him
      wherever he may be, and to share his sufferings.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was interrupted by the servant, who was calling her at the
      parlor-door, &#8220;Madame, madame!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; inquired Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must speak to madame at once.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Making an effort to rise and walk, Mme. Favoral went out.&nbsp; She was
      gone but a minute; and, when she returned, her agitation had further
      increased.&nbsp; &#8220;It is the hand of Providence, perhaps,&#8221; she
      said.&nbsp; The others were all looking at her anxiously.&nbsp; She took a
      seat, and, addressing herself more especially to M. de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This is what happens,&#8221; she said in a feeble voice.&nbsp;
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Favoral was in the habit of always changing his coat as
      soon as he came home.&nbsp; As usual, he did so last evening.&nbsp; When
      they came to arrest him, he forgot to change again, and went off with the
      coat he had on.&nbsp; The other remained hanging in the room, where the
      girl took it just now to brush it, and put it away; and this portfolio,
      which my husband always carries with him, fell from its pocket.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was an old Russia leather portfolio, which had once been red, but which
      time and use had turned black.&nbsp; It was full of papers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perhaps, indeed,&#8221; exclaimed Maxence, &#8220;we may find some
      information there.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He opened it, and had already taken out three-fourths of its contents
      without finding any thing of any consequence, when suddenly he uttered an
      exclamation.&nbsp; He had just opened an anonymous note, evidently written
      in a disguised hand, and at one glance had read,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I cannot understand your negligence.&nbsp; You should get through
      that Van Klopen matter.&nbsp; There is the danger.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is that note?&#8221; inquired M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence handed it to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;See!&#8221; said he, &#8220;but you will not understand the immense
      interest it has for me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But having read it,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are mistaken,&#8221; said Marius.&nbsp; &#8220;I understand
      perfectly; and I&rsquo;ll prove it to you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The next moment, Maxence took out of the portfolio, and read aloud, the
      following bill, dated two days before.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sold to &#8212;&#8212; two leather trunks with safety locks at 220
      francs each; say, francs 440.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars started.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At last,&#8221; he said, &#8220;here is doubtless one end of the
      thread which will guide us to the truth through this labyrinth of
      iniquities.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, tapping gently on Maxence&rsquo;s shoulders,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We must talk,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and at length.&nbsp;
      To-morrow, before you go to M. de Thaller&rsquo;s with his fifteen thousand
      francs, call and see me:&nbsp; I shall expect you.&nbsp; We are now
      engaged upon a common work; and something tells me, that, before long, we
      shall know what has become of the Mutual Credit&rsquo;s millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /><a name="linkpart2" id="linkpart2"></a> <br />
    </p>
    <h1>
      PART II.
    </h1>
    <h2>
      FISHING IN TROUBLED WATERS.
    </h2>
    <h2>
      I
    </h2>
    <p>
      &#8220;When I think,&#8221; said Coleridge, &#8220;that every morning, in
      Paris alone, thirty thousand fellows wake up, and rise with the fixed and
      settled idea of appropriating other people&rsquo;s money, it is with renewed
      wonder that every night, when I go home, I find my purse still in my
      pocket.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet it is not those who simply aim to steal your portemonnaie who are
      either the most dishonest or the most formidable.
    </p>
    <p>
      To stand at the corner of some dark street, and rush upon the first man
      that comes along, demanding, &#8220;Your money or your life,&#8221; is but
      a poor business, devoid of all prestige, and long since given up to
      chivalrous natures.
    </p>
    <p>
      A man must be something worse than a simpleton to still ply his trade on
      the high-roads, exposed to all sorts of annoyances on the part of the
      gendarmes, when manufacturing and financial enterprises offer such a
      magnificently fertile field to the activity of imaginative people.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, in order to thoroughly understand the mode of proceeding in this
      particular field, it is sufficient to open from time to time a copy of
      &#8220;The Police Gazette,&#8221; and to read some trial, like that, for
      instance, of one Lefurteux, ex-president of the Company for the Drainage
      and Improvement of the Orne Swamps.
    </p>
    <p>
      This took place less than a month ago in one of the police-courts.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Judge to the Accused&#8212;Your profession?
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Lefurteux&#8212;President of the company.
    </p>
    <p>
      Question&#8212;Before that what were you doing?
    </p>
    <p>
      Answer&#8212;I speculated at the bourse.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;You had no means?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;I beg your pardon:&nbsp; I was making money.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;And it was under such circumstances that you had the audacity to
      organize a company with a capital stock of three million of francs,
      divided in shares of five hundred francs?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;Having discovered an idea, I did not suppose that I was forbidden
      to work it up.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;What do you call an idea?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;The idea of draining swamps, and making them productive.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;What swamps?&nbsp; Yours never had any existence, except in your
      prospectus.
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;I expected to buy them as soon as my capital was paid in.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;And in the mean time you promised ten per cent to your
      stockholders.
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;That&rsquo;s the least that draining operations ever pay.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;You have advertised?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;Of course.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;To what extent?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;To the extent of about sixty thousand francs.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;Where did you get the money?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;I commenced with ten thousand francs, which a friend of mine had
      lent me; then I used the funds as they came in.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;In other words, you made use of the money of your first dupes to
      attract others?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;Many people thought it was a good thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;Who?&nbsp; Those to whom you sent your prospectus with a plan of
      your pretended swamps?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;Excuse me.&nbsp; Others too.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;How much money did you ever receive?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;About six hundred thousand francs, as the expert has stated.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;And you have spent the whole of the money?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;Permit me?&nbsp; I have never applied to my personal wants
      anything beyond the salary which was allowed me by the By-laws.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;How is it, then, that, when you were arrested, there were only
      twelve hundred and fifty francs found in your safe, and that amount had
      been sent you through the post-office that very morning?&nbsp; What has
      become of the rest?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;The rest has been spent for the good of the company.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;Of course!&nbsp; You had a carriage?
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;It was allowed to me by Article 27 of the By-laws.
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;For the good of the company too, I suppose.
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;Certainly.&nbsp; I was compelled to make a certain display.&nbsp;
      The head of an important company must endeavor to inspire confidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Judge, with an Ironical Look&#8212;Was it also to inspire confidence
      that you had a mistress, for whom you spent considerable sums of money?
    </p>
    <p>
      The Accused, in a Tone of Perfect Candor&#8212;Yes, sir.
    </p>
    <p>
      After a pause of a few moments, the judge resumes,
    </p>
    <p>
      Q&#8212;Your offices were magnificent.&nbsp; They must have cost you a
      great deal to furnish.
    </p>
    <p>
      A&#8212;On the contrary, sir, almost nothing.&nbsp; The furniture was all
      hired.&nbsp; You can examine the upholsterer.
    </p>
    <p>
      The upholsterer is sent for, and in answer to the judge&rsquo;s questions,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What M. Lefurteux has stated,&#8221; he says, &#8220;is true.&nbsp;
      My specialty is to hire office-fixtures for financial and other companies.&nbsp;
      I furnish every thing, from the book-keepers&rsquo; desks to the furniture for
      the president&rsquo;s private room:&nbsp; from the iron safe to the servant&rsquo;s
      livery.&nbsp; In twenty-four hours, every thing is ready, and the
      subscribers can come.&nbsp; As soon as a company is organized, like the
      one in question, the officers call on me, and, according to the magnitude
      of the capital required, I furnish a more or less costly establishment.&nbsp;
      I have a good deal of experience, and I know just what&rsquo;s wanted.&nbsp;
      When M. Lefurteux came to see me, I gauged his operation at a glance.&nbsp;
      Three millions of capital, swamps in the Orne, shares of five hundred
      francs, small subscribers, anxious and noisy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Very well,&#8217; I said to him, &#8216;it&rsquo;s a six-months&rsquo;
      job.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t go into useless expenses.&nbsp; Take reps for your
      private office:&nbsp; that&rsquo;s good enough.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The Judge, in a tone of Profound Surprise&#8212;You told him that?
    </p>
    <p>
      The Upholsterer, in the Simple Accent of an Honest Man&#8212;Exactly as I
      am telling your Honor.&nbsp; He followed my advice; and I sent him red hot
      the furniture and fixtures which had been used by the River Fishery
      Company, whose president had just been sent to prison for three years.
    </p>
    <p>
      When, after such revelations, renewed from week to week, with instructive
      variations, purchasers may still be found for the shares of the Tiffla
      Mines, the Bretoneche Lands, and the Forests of Formanoid, is it to be
      wondered that the Mutual Credit Company found numerous subscribers?
    </p>
    <p>
      It had been admirably started at that propitious hour of the December Coup
      d&rsquo;Etat, when the first ideas of mutuality were beginning to penetrate the
      financial world.
    </p>
    <p>
      It had lacked neither capital nor powerful patronage at the start, and had
      been at once admitted to the honor of being quoted at the bourse.
    </p>
    <p>
      Beginning business ostensibly as an accommodation bank for manufacturers
      and merchants, the Mutual Credit had had, for a number of years, a
      well-determined specialty.
    </p>
    <p>
      But gradually it had enlarged the circle of its operations, altered its
      by-laws, changed its board of directors; and at the end the original
      subscribers would have been not a little embarrassed to tell what was the
      nature of its business, and from what sources it drew its profits.
    </p>
    <p>
      All they knew was, that it always paid respectable dividends; that their
      manager, M. de Thaller, was personally very rich; and that they were
      willing to trust him to steer clear of the code.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were some, of course, who did not view things in quite so favorable
      a light; who suggested that the dividends were suspiciously large; that M.
      de Thaller spent too much money on his house, his wife, his daughter, and
      his mistress.
    </p>
    <p>
      One thing is certain, that the shares of the Mutual Credit Society were
      much above par, and were quoted at 580 francs on that Saturday, when,
      after the closing of the bourse, the rumor had spread that the cashier,
      Vincent Favoral, had run off with twelve millions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a haul!&#8221; thought, not without a feeling of envy, more
      than one broker, who, for merely one-twelfth of that amount would have
      gayly crossed the frontier.&nbsp; It was almost an event in Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although such adventures are frequent enough, and not taken much notice
      of, in the present instance, the magnitude of the amount more than made up
      for the vulgarity of the act.
    </p>
    <p>
      Favoral was generally pronounced a very smart man; and some persons
      declared, that to take twelve millions could hardly be called stealing.
    </p>
    <p>
      The first question asked was,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is Thaller in the operation?&nbsp; Was he in collusion with his
      cashier?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s the whole question.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If he was, then the Mutual Credit is better off than ever:&nbsp;
      otherwise, it is gone under.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thaller is pretty smart.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That Favoral was perhaps more so still.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This uncertainty kept up the price for about half an hour.&nbsp; But soon
      the most disastrous news began to spread, brought, no one knew whence or
      by whom; and there was an irresistible panic.
    </p>
    <p>
      From 425, at which price it had maintained itself for a time, the Mutual
      Credit fell suddenly to 300, then 200, and finally to 150 francs.
    </p>
    <p>
      Some friends of M. de Thaller, M. Costeclar, for instance, had endeavored
      to keep up the market; but they had soon recognized the futility of their
      efforts, and then they had bravely commenced doing like the rest.
    </p>
    <p>
      The next day was Sunday.&nbsp; From the early morning, it was reported,
      with the most circumstantial details, that the Baron de Thaller had been
      arrested.
    </p>
    <p>
      But in the evening this had been contradicted by people who had gone to
      the races, and who had met there Mme. de Thaller and her daughter, more
      brilliant than ever, very lively, and very talkative.&nbsp; To the persons
      who went to speak to them,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My husband was unable to come,&#8221; said the baroness.&nbsp;
      &#8220;He is busy with two of his clerks, looking over that poor Favoral&rsquo;s
      accounts.&nbsp; It seems that they are in the most inconceivable
      confusion.&nbsp; Who would ever have thought such a thing of a man who
      lived on bread and nuts?&nbsp; But he operated at the bourse; and he had
      organized, under a false name, a sort of bank, in which he has very
      foolishly sunk large sums of money.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And with a smile, as if all danger had been luckily averted,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fortunately,&#8221; she added, &#8220;the damage is not as great as
      has been reported, and this time, again, we shall get off with a good
      fright.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the speeches of the baroness were hardly sufficient to quiet the
      anxiety of the people who felt in their coat-pockets the worthless
      certificates of Mutual Credit stock.
    </p>
    <p>
      And the next day, Monday, as early as eight o&rsquo;clock, they began to arrive
      in crowds to demand of M. de Thaller some sort of an explanation.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were there, at least a hundred, huddled together in the vestibule, on
      the stairs, and on the first landing, a prey to the most painful emotion
      and the most violent excitement; for they had been refused admittance.
    </p>
    <p>
      To all those who insisted upon going in, a tall servant in livery,
      standing before the door, replied invariably, &#8220;The office is not
      open, M. de Thaller has not yet come.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whereupon they uttered such terrible threats and such loud imprecations,
      that the frightened concierge had run, and hid himself at the very bottom
      of his lodge.
    </p>
    <p>
      No one can imagine to what epileptic contortions the loss of money can
      drive an assemblage of men, who has not seen a meeting of shareholders on
      the morrow of a great disaster, with their clinched fists, their convulsed
      faces, their glaring eyes, and foaming lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      They felt indignant at what had once been their delight.&nbsp; They laid
      the blame of their ruin upon the splendor of the house, the sumptuousness
      of the stairs, the candelabras of the vestibule, the carpets, the chairs,
      every thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And it is our money too,&#8221; they cried, &#8220;that has paid
      for all that!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Standing upon a bench, a little short man was exciting transports of
      indignation by describing the magnificence of the Baron de Thaller&rsquo;s
      residence, where he had once had some dealings.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had counted five carriages in the carriage-house, fifteen horses in the
      stables, and Heaven knows how many servants.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had never been inside the apartments, but he had visited the kitchen;
      and he declared that he had been dazzled by the number and brightness of
      the saucepans, ranged in order of size over the furnace.
    </p>
    <p>
      Gathered in a group under the vestibule, the most sensible deplored their
      rash confidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s the way,&#8221; concluded one, &#8220;with all these
      adventurous affairs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s a fact.&nbsp; There&rsquo;s nothing, after all, like government
      bonds.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Or a first mortgage on good property, with subrogation of the
      wife&rsquo;s rights.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But what exasperated them all was not to be admitted to the presence of M.
      de Thaller, and to see that servant mounting guard before the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What impudence,&#8221; they growled, &#8220;to leave us on the
      stairs!&#8212;we who are the masters, after all.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who knows where M. de Thaller may be?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is hiding, of course.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No matter:&nbsp; I will see him,&#8221; clamored a big fat man,
      with a brick-colored face, &#8220;if I shouldn&rsquo;t stir from here for a
      week.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You&rsquo;ll see nothing at all,&#8221; giggled his neighbor.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Do you suppose they don&rsquo;t have back-stairs and private entrances in
      this infernal shop?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! if I believed any thing of the kind,&#8221; exclaimed the big
      man in a voice trembling with passion.&nbsp; &#8220;I&rsquo;d soon break in some
      of these doors:&nbsp; it isn&rsquo;t so hard, after all.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Already he was gazing at the servant with an alarming air, when an old
      gentleman with a discreet look, stepped up to him, and inquired,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Excuse me, sir:&nbsp; how many shares have you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Three,&#8221; answered the man with the brick-colored face.
    </p>
    <p>
      The other sighed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have two hundred and fifty,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;That&rsquo;s
      why, being at least as interested as yourself in not losing every thing, I
      beg of you to indulge in no violent proceedings.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was no need of further speaking.
    </p>
    <p>
      The door which the servant was guarding flew open.&nbsp; A clerk appeared,
      and made sign that he wished to speak.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Gentlemen,&#8221; he began, &#8220;M. de Thaller has just come; but
      he is just now engaged with the examining judge.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Shouts having drowned his voice, he withdrew precipitately.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If the law gets its finger in,&#8221; murmured the discreet
      gentleman, &#8220;good-by!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s a fact,&#8221; said another.&nbsp; &#8220;But we will have
      the precious advantage of hearing that dear baron condemned to one year&rsquo;s
      imprisonment, and a fine of fifty francs.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s the regular rate.&nbsp;
      He wouldn&rsquo;t get off so cheap, if he had stolen a loaf of bread from a
      baker.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you believe that story about the judge?&#8221; interrupted
      rudely the big man.
    </p>
    <p>
      They had to believe it, when they saw him appear, followed by a commissary
      of police and a porter, carrying on his back a load of books and papers.&nbsp;
      They stood aside to let them pass; but there was no time to make any
      comments, as another clerk appeared immediately who said,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M. de Thaller is at your command, gentlemen.&nbsp; Please walk in.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was then a terrible jamming and pushing to see who would get first
      into the directors&rsquo; room, which stood wide open.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Thaller was standing against the mantel-piece, neither paler nor
      more excited than usual, but like a man who feels sure of himself and of
      his means of action.&nbsp; As soon as silence was restored,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;First of all, gentlemen,&#8221; he began, &#8220;I must tell you
      that the board of directors is about to meet, and that a general meeting
      of the stockholders will be called.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Not a murmur.&nbsp; As at the touch of a magician&rsquo;s wand, the dispositions
      of the shareholders seemed to have changed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have nothing new to inform you of,&#8221; he went on.&nbsp;
      &#8220;What happened is a misfortune, but not a disaster.&nbsp; The thing
      to do was to save the company; and I had first thought of calling for
      funds.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; said two or three timid voices, &#8220;If it was
      absolutely necessary&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But there is no need of it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, ah!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I can manage to carry every thing through by adding to our
      reserve fund my own personal fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This time the hurrahs and the bravos drowned the voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Thaller received them like a man who deserves them, and, more
      slowly,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Honor commanded it,&#8221; he continued.&nbsp; &#8220;I confess it,
      gentlemen, the wretch who has so basely deceived us had my entire
      confidence.&nbsp; You will understand my apparent blindness when you know
      with what infernal skill he managed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Loud imprecations burst on all sides against Vincent Favoral.&nbsp; But
      the president of the Mutual Credit proceeded,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For the present, all I have to ask of you is to keep cool, and
      continue to give me your confidence.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, yes!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The panic of night before last was but a stock-gambling manoeuvre,
      organized by rival establishments, who were in hopes of taking our clients
      away from us.&nbsp; They will be disappointed, gentlemen.&nbsp; We will
      triumphantly demonstrate our soundness; and we shall come out of this
      trial more powerful than ever.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was all over.&nbsp; M. de Thaller understood his business.&nbsp; They
      offered him a vote of thanks.&nbsp; A smile was beaming upon the same
      faces that were a moment before contracted with rage.
    </p>
    <p>
      One stockholder alone did not seem to share the general enthusiasm:&nbsp;
      he was no other than our old friend, M. Chapelain, the ex-lawyer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That fellow, Thaller, is just capable of getting himself out of the
      scrape,&#8221; he grumbled.&nbsp; &#8220;I must tell Maxence.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      II
    </h2>
    <p>
      We have every species of courage in France, and to a superior degree,
      except that of braving public opinion.&nbsp; Few men would have dared,
      like Marius de Tregars, to offer their name to the daughter of a wretch
      charged with embezzlement and forgery, and that at the very moment when
      the scandal of the crime was at its height.&nbsp; But, when Marius judged
      a thing good and just, he did it without troubling himself in the least
      about what others would think.&nbsp; And so his mere presence in the Rue.&nbsp;
      St. Gilles had brought back hope to its inmates.&nbsp; Of his designs he
      had said but a word,&#8212;&#8220;I have the means of helping you:&nbsp; I
      mean, by marrying Gilberte, to acquire the right of doing so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But that word had been enough.&nbsp; Mme. Favoral and Maxence had
      understood that the man who spoke thus was one of those cool and resolute
      men whom nothing disconcerts or discourages, and who knows how to make the
      best of the most perilous situations.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, when he had retired with the Count de Villegre,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I don&rsquo;t know what he will do,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte to her
      mother and her brother:&nbsp; &#8220;but he will certainly do something;
      and, if it is humanly possible to succeed, he will succeed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And how proudly she spoke thus!&nbsp; The assistance of Marius was the
      justification of her conduct.&nbsp; She trembled with joy at the thought
      that it would, perhaps, be to the man whom she had alone and boldly
      selected, that her family would owe their salvation.&nbsp; Shaking his
      head, and making allusion to events of which he kept the secret,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I really believe,&#8221; approved Maxence, &#8220;that, to reach
      the enemies of our father, M. de Tregars possesses some powerful means;
      and what they are we will doubtless soon know, since I have an appointment
      with him for to-morrow morning.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It came at last, that morrow, which he had awaited with an impatience that
      neither his mother nor his sister could suspect.&nbsp; And towards
      half-past nine he was ready to go out, when M. Chapelain came in.&nbsp;
      Still irritated by the scenes he had just witnessed at the Mutual Credit
      office, the old lawyer had a most lugubrious countenance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I bring bad news,&#8221; he began.&nbsp; &#8220;I have just seen
      the Baron de Thaller.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He had said so much the day before about having nothing more to do with
      it, that Maxence could not repress a gesture of surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh! it isn&rsquo;t alone that I saw him,&#8221; added M. Chapelain,
      &#8220;but together with at least a hundred stockholders of the Mutual
      Credit.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They are going to do something, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No:&nbsp; they only came near doing something.&nbsp; You should
      have seen them this morning!&nbsp; They were furious; they threatened to
      break every thing; they wanted M. de Thaller&rsquo;s blood.&nbsp; It was
      terrible.&nbsp; But M. de Thaller condescended to receive them; and they
      became at once as meek as lambs.&nbsp; It is perfectly simple.&nbsp; What
      do you suppose stockholders can do, no matter how exasperated they may be,
      when their manager tells them?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Well, yes, it&rsquo;s a fact you have been robbed, and your money
      is in great jeopardy; but if you make any fuss, if you complain thus, all
      is sure to be lost.&#8217;&nbsp; Of course, the stockholders keep quiet.&nbsp;
      It is a well-known fact that a business which has to be liquidated through
      the courts is gone; and swindled stockholders fear the law almost as much
      as the swindling manager.&nbsp; A single fact will make the situation
      clearer to you.&nbsp; Less than an hour ago, M. de Thaller&rsquo;s stockholders,
      offered him money to make up the loss.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, after a moment of silence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But this is not all.&nbsp; Justice has interfered; and M. de
      Thaller spent the morning with an examining-magistrate.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, I have enough experience to affirm that you must not rely any
      more upon justice than upon the stockholders.&nbsp; Unless there are
      proofs so evident that they are not likely to exist, M. de Thaller will
      not be disturbed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why?&nbsp; Because, my dear, in all those big financial operations,
      justice, as much as possible, remains blind.&nbsp; Not through corruption
      or any guilty connivance, but through considerations of public interest.&nbsp;
      If the manager was prosecuted he would be condemned to a few years&rsquo;
      imprisonment; but his stockholders would at the same time be condemned to
      lose what they have left; so that the victims would be more severely
      punished than the swindler.&nbsp; And so, powerless, justice does not
      interfere.&nbsp; And that&rsquo;s what accounts for the impudence and impunity
      of all these high-flown rascals who go about with their heads high, their
      pockets filled with other people&rsquo;s money, and half a dozen decorations at
      their button-hole.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what then?&#8221; asked Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then it is evident that your father is lost.&nbsp; Whether or not
      he did have accomplices, he will be alone sacrificed.&nbsp; A scapegoat is
      needed to be slaughtered on the altar of credit.&nbsp; Well, they will
      give that much satisfaction to the swindled stockholders.&nbsp; The twelve
      millions will be lost; but the shares of the Mutual Credit will go up, and
      public morality will be safe.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Somewhat moved by the old lawyer&rsquo;s tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you advise me to do, then?&#8221; inquired Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The very reverse of what, on the first impulse, I advised you to
      do.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s why I have come.&nbsp; I told you yesterday, &#8216;Make
      a row, act, scream.&nbsp; It is impossible that your father be alone
      guilty; attack M. de Thaller.&#8217;&nbsp; To-day, after mature
      deliberation, I say, &#8216;Keep quiet, hide yourself, let the scandal
      drop.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A bitter smile contracted Maxence&rsquo;s lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not very brave advice you are giving me there,&#8221; he
      said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a friend&rsquo;s advice,&#8212;the advice of a man who knows life
      better than yourself.&nbsp; Poor young man, you are not aware of the peril
      of certain struggles.&nbsp; All knaves are in league and sustain each
      other.&nbsp; To attack one is to attack them all.&nbsp; You have no idea
      of the occult influences of which a man can dispose who handles millions,
      and who, in exchange for a favor, has always a bonus to offer, or a good
      operation to propose.&nbsp; If at least I could see any chance of success!&nbsp;
      But you have not one.&nbsp; You never can reach M. de Thaller, henceforth
      backed by his stockholders.&nbsp; You will only succeed in making an enemy
      whose hostility will weigh upon your whole life.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What does it matter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Chapelain shrugged his shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If you were alone,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I would say as you do,
      &#8216;What does it matter?&#8217;&nbsp; But you are no longer alone:&nbsp;
      you have your mother and sister to take care of.&nbsp; You must think of
      food before thinking of vengeance.&nbsp; How much a month do you earn?&nbsp;
      Two hundred francs!&nbsp; It is not much for three persons.&nbsp; I would
      never suggest that you should solicit M. de Thaller&rsquo;s protection; but it
      would be well, perhaps, to let him know that he has nothing to fear from
      you.&nbsp; Why shouldn&rsquo;t you do so when you take his fifteen thousand
      francs back to him?&nbsp; If, as every thing indicates, he has been your
      father&rsquo;s accomplice, he will certainly be touched by the distress of your
      family, and, if he has any heart left, he will manage to make you find,
      without appearing to have any thing to do with it, a situation better
      suited to your wants.&nbsp; I know that such a step must be very painful;
      but I repeat it, my dear child, you can no longer think of yourself alone;
      and what one would not do for himself, one does for a mother and a sister.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence said nothing.&nbsp; Not that he was in any way affected by the
      worthy old lawyer&rsquo;s speech; but he was asking himself whether or not he
      should confide to him the events which in the past twenty-four hours had
      so suddenly modified the situation.&nbsp; He did not feel authorized to do
      so.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius de Tregars had not bound him to secrecy; but an indiscretion might
      have fatal consequences.&nbsp; And, after a moment of thought,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am obliged to you, sir,&#8221; he replied evasively, &#8220;for
      the interest you have manifested in our welfare; and we shall always
      greatly prize your advice.&nbsp; But for the present you must allow me to
      leave you with my mother and sister.&nbsp; I have an appointment with&#8212;a
      friend.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without waiting for an answer, he slipped M. de Thaller&rsquo;s fifteen
      thousand francs in his pocket, and hurried out.&nbsp; It was not to M. de
      Tregars that he went first, however, but to the Hotel des Folies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mlle. Lucienne has just come home with a big bundle,&#8221; said
      Mme. Fortin to Maxence, with her pleasantest smile, as soon as she had
      seen him emerge from the shades of the corridor.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the past twenty-four hours, the worthy hostess had been watching for
      her guest, in the hopes of obtaining some information which she might
      communicate to the neighbors.&nbsp; Without even condescending to answer,
      a piece of rudeness at which she felt much hurt, he crossed the narrow
      court of the hotel at a bound, and started up stairs.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s room was open.&nbsp; He walked in, and, still out of
      breath from his rapid ascension,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am glad to find you in,&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; The young girl
      was busy, arranging upon her bed a dress of very light colored silk,
      trimmed with ruches and lace, an overdress to match, and a bonnet of
      wonderful shape, loaded with the most brilliant feathers and flowers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see what brings me here,&#8221; she replied.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      came home to dress.&nbsp; At two o&rsquo;clock the carriage is coming to take me
      to the bois, where I am to exhibit this costume, certainly the most
      ridiculous that Van Klopen has yet made me wear.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A smile flitted upon Maxence&rsquo;s lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who knows,&#8221; said he, &#8220;if this is not the last time you
      will have to perform this odious task?&nbsp; Ah, my friend! what events
      have taken place since I last saw you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fortunate ones?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will judge for yourself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He closed the door carefully, and, returning to Mlle. Lucienne,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know the Marquis de Tregars?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No more than you do.&nbsp; It was yesterday, at the commissary of
      police, that I first heard his name.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, before a month, M. de Tregars will be Mlle. Gilberte
      Favoral&rsquo;s husband.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it possible?&#8221; exclaimed Mlle. Lucienne with a look of
      extreme surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, instead of answering,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You told me,&#8221; resumed Maxence, &#8220;that once, in a day of
      supreme distress, you had applied to Mme. de Thaller for assistance,
      whereas you were actually entitled to an indemnity for having been run
      over and seriously hurt by her carriage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is true.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whilst you were in the vestibule, waiting for an answer to your
      letter, which a servant had taken up stairs, M. de Thaller came in; and,
      when he saw you, he could not repress a gesture of surprise, almost of
      terror.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is true too.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This behavior of M. de Thaller always remained an enigma to you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;An inexplicable one.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, I think that I can explain it to you now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Lowering his voice; for he knew that at the Hotel des Folies there was
      always to fear some indiscreet ear.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I,&#8221; he answered; &#8220;and for the reason that
      yesterday, when M. de Tregars appeared in my mother&rsquo;s parlor, I could not
      suppress an exclamation of surprise, for the reason, Lucienne, that,
      between Marius de Tregars and yourself, there is a resemblance with which
      it is impossible not to be struck.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne had become very pale.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you suppose, then?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe, my friend, that we are very near penetrating at once the
      mystery of your birth and the secret of the hatred that has pursued you
      since the day when you first set your foot in M. de Thaller&rsquo;s house.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Admirably self-possessed as Mlle. Lucienne usually was, the quivering of
      her lips betrayed at this moment the intensity of her emotion.
    </p>
    <p>
      After more than a minute of profound meditation,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The commissary of police,&#8221; she said, &#8220;has never told me
      his hopes, except in vague terms.&nbsp; He has told me enough, however, to
      make me think that he has already had suspicions similar to yours.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course!&nbsp; Would he otherwise have questioned me on the
      subject of M. de Tregars?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne shook her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; she said, &#8220;even after your explanation, it is
      in vain that I seek why and how I can so far disturb M. de Thaller&rsquo;s
      security that he wishes to do away with me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence made a gesture of superb indifference.&nbsp; &#8220;I confess,&#8221;
      he said, &#8220;that I don&rsquo;t see it either.&nbsp; But what matters it?&nbsp;
      Without being able to explain why, I feel that the Baron de Thaller is the
      common enemy, yours, mine, my father&rsquo;s, and M. de Tregars&rsquo;.&nbsp; And
      something tells me, that, with M. de Tregars&rsquo; help, we shall triumph.&nbsp;
      You would share my confidence, Lucienne, if you knew him.&nbsp; There is a
      man! and my sister has made no vulgar choice.&nbsp; If he has told my
      mother that he has the means of serving her, it is because he certainly
      has.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He stopped, and, after a moment of silence, &#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; he went
      on, &#8220;the commissary of police might readily understand what I only
      dimly suspect; but, until further orders, we are forbidden to have
      recourse to him.&nbsp; It is not my own secret that I have just told you;
      and, if I have confided it to you, it is because I feel that it is a great
      piece of good fortune for us; and there is no joy for me, that you do not
      share.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Lucienne wanted to ask many more particulars.&nbsp; But, looking at
      his watch,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Half-past ten!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;and M. de Tregars
      waiting for me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he started off, repeating once more to the young girl,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I will see you to-night:&nbsp; until then, good hope and good
      courage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In the court, two ill-looking men were talking with the Fortins.&nbsp; But
      it happened often to the Fortins to talk with ill-looking men:&nbsp; so he
      took no notice of them, ran out to the Boulevard, and jumping into a cab,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Rue Lafitte 70,&#8221; he cried to the driver, &#8220;I pay the
      trip,&#8212;three francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      When Marius de Tregars had finally determined to compel the bold rascals
      who had swindled his father to disgorge, he had taken in the Rue Lafitte a
      small, plainly-furnished apartment on the entresol, a fit dwelling for the
      man of action, the tent in which he takes shelter on the eve of battle;
      and he had to wait upon him an old family servant, whom he had found out
      of place, and who had for him that unquestioning and obstinate devotion
      peculiar to Breton servants.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was this excellent man who came at the first stroke of the bell to open
      the door.&nbsp; And, as soon as Maxence had told him his name,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;my master has been expecting you
      with a terrible impatience.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was so true, that M. de Tregars himself appeared at the same moment,
      and, leading Maxence into the little room which he used as a study,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know,&#8221; he said whilst shaking him cordially by the
      hand, &#8220;that you are almost an hour behind time?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had, among others the detestable fault, sure indication of a weak
      nature, of being never willing to be in the wrong, and of having always an
      excuse ready.&nbsp; On this occasion, the excuse was too tempting to allow
      it to escape; and quick he began telling how he had been detained by M.
      Chapelain, and how he had heard from the old lawyer what had taken place
      at the Mutual Credit office.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know the scene already,&#8221; said M. de Tregars.&nbsp; And,
      fixing upon Maxence a look of friendly raillery,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Only,&#8221; he added, &#8220;I attributed your want of punctuality
      to another reason, a very pretty one this time, a brunette.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A purple cloud spread over Maxence&rsquo;s cheeks.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; he stammered, &#8220;you know?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I thought you must have been in haste to go and tell a person of
      your acquaintance why, when you saw me yesterday, you uttered an
      exclamation of surprise.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This time Maxence lost all countenance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you know too?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars smiled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know a great many things, my dear M. Maxence,&#8221; he replied;
      &#8220;and yet, as I do not wish to be suspected of witchcraft, I will
      tell you where all my science comes from.&nbsp; At the time when your
      house was closed to me, after seeking for a long time some means of
      hearing from your sister, I discovered at last that she had for her
      music-teacher an old Italian, the Signor Gismondo Pulei.&nbsp; I applied
      to him for lessons, and became his pupil.&nbsp; But, in the beginning, he
      kept looking at me with singular persistence.&nbsp; I inquired the reason;
      and he told me that he had once had for a neighbor, at the Batignolles, a
      young working-girl, who resembled me prodigiously.&nbsp; I paid no
      attention to this circumstance, and had, in fact, completely forgotten it;
      when, quite lately, Gismondo told me that he had just seen his former
      neighbor again, and, what&rsquo;s more, arm in arm with you, and that you both
      entered together the Hotel des Folies.&nbsp; As he insisted again upon
      that famous resemblance, I determined to see for myself.&nbsp; I watched,
      and I stated, <i>de visa</i>, that my old Italian was not quite wrong, and
      that I had, perhaps, just found the weapon I was looking for.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      His eyes staring, and his mouth gaping, Maxence looked like a man fallen
      from the clouds.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, you did watch!&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars snapped his fingers with a gesture of indifference.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is certain,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;that, for a month past, I
      have been doing a singular business.&nbsp; But it is not by remaining on
      my chair, preaching against the corruption of the age, that I can attain
      my object.&nbsp; The end justifies the means.&nbsp; Honest men are very
      silly, I think, to allow the rascals to get the better of them under the
      sentimental pretext that they cannot condescend to make use of their
      weapons.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But an honorable scruple was tormenting Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you think yourself well-informed, sir?&#8221; he inquired.&nbsp;
      &#8220;You know Lucienne?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough to know that she is not what she seems to be, and what
      almost any other would have been in her place; enough to be certain, that,
      if she shows herself two or three times a week riding around the lake, it
      is not for her pleasure; enough, also, to be persuaded, that, despite
      appearances, she is not your mistress, and that, far from having disturbed
      your life, and compromised your prospects, she set you back into the right
      road, at the moment, perhaps, when you were about to branch off into the
      wrong path.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius de Tregars was assuming fantastic proportions in the mind of
      Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How did you manage,&#8221; he stammered, &#8220;thus to find out
      the truth?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;With time and money, every thing is possible.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But you must have had grave reasons to take so much trouble about
      Lucienne.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very grave ones, indeed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know that she was basely forsaken when quite a child?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perfectly.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And that she was brought up through charity?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By some poor gardeners at Louveciennes:&nbsp; yes, I know all that.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was trembling with joy.&nbsp; It seemed to him that his most
      dazzling hopes were about to be realized.&nbsp; Seizing the hands of
      Marius de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, you know Lucienne&rsquo;s family!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; But M.
      de Tregars shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have suspicions,&#8221; he answered; &#8220;but, up to this time,
      I have suspicions only, I assure you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But that family does exist; since they have already, at three
      different times, attempted to get rid of the poor girl.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think as you do; but we must have proofs:&nbsp; and we shall find
      some.&nbsp; You may rest assured of that.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Here he was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.
    </p>
    <p>
      The old servant came in, and advancing to the centre of the room with a
      mysterious look,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Madame la Baronne de Thaller,&#8221; he said in a low voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius de Tregars started violently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is down stairs in her carriage,&#8221; replied the servant.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Her footman is here, asking whether monsieur is at home, and
      whether she can come up.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can she possibly have heard any thing?&#8221; murmured M. de
      Tregars with a deep frown.&nbsp; And, after a moment of reflection,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So much the more reason to see her,&#8221; he added quickly.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Let her come.&nbsp; Request her to do me the honor of coming up
      stairs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This last incident completely upset all Maxence&rsquo;s ideas.&nbsp; He no
      longer knew what to imagine.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Quick,&#8221; said M. de Tregars to him:&nbsp; &#8220;quick,
      disappear; and, whatever you may hear, not a word!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he pushed him into his bedroom, which was divided from the study by a
      mere tapestry curtain.&nbsp; It was time; for already in the next room
      could be heard a great rustling of silk and starched petticoats.&nbsp;
      Mme. de Thaller appeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was still the same coarsely beautiful woman, who, sixteen years
      before, had sat at Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s table.&nbsp; Time had passed without
      scarcely touching her with the tip of his wing.&nbsp; Her flesh had
      retained its dazzling whiteness; her hair, of a bluish black, its
      marvelous opulence; her lips, their carmine hue; her eyes, their lustre.&nbsp;
      Her figure only had become heavier, her features less delicate; and her
      neck and throat had lost their undulations, and the purity of their
      outlines.
    </p>
    <p>
      But neither the years, nor the millions, nor the intimacy of the most
      fashionable women, had been able to give her those qualities which cannot
      be acquired,&#8212;grace, distinction, and taste.
    </p>
    <p>
      If there was a woman accustomed to dress, it was she:&nbsp; a splendid
      dry-goods store could have been set up with the silks and the velvets, the
      satins and cashmeres, the muslins, the laces, and all the known tissues,
      that had passed over her shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her elegance was quoted and copied.&nbsp; And yet there was about her
      always and under all circumstances, an indescribable flavor of the <i>parvenue</i>.&nbsp;
      Her gestures had remained trivial; her voice, common and vulgar.
    </p>
    <p>
      Throwing herself into an arm-chair, and bursting into a loud laugh,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Confess, my dear marquis,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that you are
      terribly astonished to see me thus drop upon you, without warning, at
      eleven o&rsquo;clock in the morning.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I feel, above all, terribly flattered,&#8221; replied M. de
      Tregars, smiling.
    </p>
    <p>
      With a rapid glance she was surveying the little study, the modest
      furniture, the papers piled on the desk, as if she had hoped that the
      dwelling would reveal to her something of the master&rsquo;s ideas and projects.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was just coming from Van Klopen&rsquo;s,&#8221; she resumed; &#8220;and
      passing before your house, I took a fancy to come in and stir you up; and
      here I am.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was too much a man of the world, and of the best world, to
      allow his features to betray the secret of his impressions; and yet, to
      any one who had known him well, a certain contraction of the eyelids would
      have revealed a serious annoyance and an intense anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How is the baron?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As sound as an oak,&#8221; answered Mme. de Thaller, &#8220;notwithstanding
      all the cares and the troubles, which you can well imagine.&nbsp; By the
      way, you know what has happened to us?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I read in the papers that the cashier of the Mutual Credit had
      disappeared.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And it is but too true.&nbsp; That wretch Favoral has gone off with
      an enormous amount of money.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Twelve millions, I heard.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Something like it.&nbsp; A man who had the reputation of a saint
      too; a puritan.&nbsp; Trust people&rsquo;s faces after that!&nbsp; I never liked
      him, I confess.&nbsp; But M. de Thaller had a perfect fancy for him; and,
      when he had spoken of his Favoral, there was nothing more to say.&nbsp;
      Any way, he has cleared out, leaving his family without means.&nbsp; A
      very interesting family, it seems, too,&#8212;a wife who is goodness
      itself, and a charming daughter:&nbsp; at least, so says Costeclar, who is
      very much in love with her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars&rsquo; countenance remained perfectly indifferent, like that of a
      man who is hearing about persons and things in which he does not take the
      slightest interest.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller noticed this.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But it isn&rsquo;t to tell you all this,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;that
      I came up.&nbsp; It is an interested motive brought me.&nbsp; We have,
      some of my friends and myself, organized a lottery&#8212;a work of
      charity, my dear marquis, and quite patriotic&#8212;for the benefit of the
      Alsatians, I have lots of tickets to dispose of; and I&rsquo;ve thought of you
      to help me out.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      More smiling than ever,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am at your orders, madame,&#8221; answered Marius, &#8220;but, in
      mercy, spare me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She took out some tickets from a small shell pocket-book.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Twenty, at ten francs,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;It isn&rsquo;t too
      much, is it?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a great deal for my modest resources.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She pocketed the ten napoleons which he handed her, and, in a tone of
      ironical compassion,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you so very poor, then?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, I am neither banker nor broker, you know.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She had risen, and was smoothing the folds of her dress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, my dear marquis,&#8221; she resumed, &#8220;it is certainly
      not me who will pity you.&nbsp; When a man of your age, and with your
      name, remains poor, it is his own fault.&nbsp; Are there no rich
      heiresses?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I confess that I haven&rsquo;t tried to find one yet.&#8221;&nbsp; She
      looked at him straight in the eyes, and then suddenly bursting out
      laughing,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Look around you,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and I am sure you&rsquo;ll not
      be long discovering a beautiful young girl, very blonde, who would be
      delighted to become Marquise de Tregars, and who would bring in her apron
      a dowry of twelve or fifteen hundred thousand francs in good securities,&#8212;securities
      which the Favorals can&rsquo;t carry off.&nbsp; Think well, and then come to see
      us.&nbsp; You know that M. de Thaller is very fond of you; and, after all
      the trouble we have been having, you owe us a visit.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whereupon she went out, M. de Tregars going down to escort her to her
      carriage.&nbsp; But as he came up,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Attention!&#8221; he cried to Maxence; &#8220;for it&rsquo;s very evident
      that the Thallers have wind of something.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      III
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was a revelation, that visit of Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s; and there was no
      need of very much perspicacity to guess her anxiety beneath her bursts of
      laughter, and to understand that it was a bargain she had come to propose.&nbsp;
      It was evident, therefore, that Marius de Tregars held within his hands
      the principal threads of that complicated intrigue which had just
      culminated in that robbery of twelve millions.&nbsp; But would he be able
      to make use of them?&nbsp; What were his designs, and his means of action?&nbsp;
      That is what Maxence could not in any way conjecture.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had no time to ask questions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come,&#8221; said M. Tregars, whose agitation was manifest,&#8212;&#8220;come,
      let us breakfast:&nbsp; we have not a moment to lose.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, whilst his servant was bringing in his modest meal,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am expecting M. d&rsquo;Escajoul,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Show him
      in as soon as he comes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Retired as he had lived from the financial world, Maxence had yet heard
      the name of Octave d&rsquo;Escajoul.
    </p>
    <p>
      Who has not seen him, happy and smiling, his eye bright, and his lip
      ruddy, notwithstanding his fifty years, walking on the sunny side of the
      Boulevard, with his royal blue jacket and his eternal white vest?&nbsp; He
      is passionately fond of everything that tends to make life pleasant and
      easy; dines at Bignon&rsquo;s, or the Caf&eacute; Anglais; plays baccarat at the
      club with extraordinary luck; has the most comfortable apartment and the
      most elegant coupe in all Paris.&nbsp; With all this, he is pleased to
      declare that he is the happiest of men, and is certainly one of the most
      popular; for he cannot walk three blocks on the Boulevard without lifting
      his hat at least fifty times, and shaking hands twice as often.
    </p>
    <p>
      And when any one asks, &#8220;What does he do?&#8221; the invariable
      answer is, &#8220;Why he operates.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To explain what sort of operations, would not be, perhaps, very easy.&nbsp;
      In the world of rogues, there are some rogues more formidable and more
      skillful than the rest, who always manage to escape the hand of the law.&nbsp;
      They are not such fools as to operate in person,&#8212;not they!&nbsp;
      They content themselves with watching their friends and comrades.&nbsp; If
      a good haul is made, at once they appear and claim their share.&nbsp; And,
      as they always threaten to inform, there is no help for it but to let them
      pocket the clearest of the profit.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, in a more elevated sphere, in the world of speculation, it is
      precisely that lucrative and honorable industry which M. d&rsquo;Escajoul
      carries on.&nbsp; Thoroughly master of his ground, possessing a superior
      scent and an imperturbable patience, always awake, and continually on the
      watch, he never operates unless he is sure to win.
    </p>
    <p>
      And the day when the manager of some company has violated his charter or
      stretched the law a little too far, he may be sure to see M. d&rsquo;Escajoul
      appear, and ask for some little&#8212;advantages, and proffer, in
      exchange, the most thorough discretion, and even his kind offices.
    </p>
    <p>
      Two or three of his friends have heard him say,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who would dare to blame me?&nbsp; It&rsquo;s very moral, what I am doing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Such is the man who came in, smiling, just as Maxence and Marius de
      Tregars had sat down at the table.&nbsp; M. de Tregars rose to receive
      him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will breakfast with us?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thank you,&#8221; answered M. d&rsquo;Escajoul.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      breakfasted precisely at eleven, as usual.&nbsp; Punctuality is a
      politeness which a man owes to his stomach.&nbsp; But I will accept with
      pleasure a drop of that old Cognac which you offered me the other evening.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He took a seat; and the valet brought him a glass, which he set on the
      edge of the table.&nbsp; Then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have just seen our man,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence understood that he was referring to M. de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221; inquired M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Impossible to get any thing out of him.&nbsp; I turned him over and
      over, every way.&nbsp; Nothing!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s so; and you know if I understand the business.&nbsp; But what
      can you say to a man who answers you all the time, &#8216;The matter is in
      the hands of the law; experts have been named; I have nothing to fear from
      the most minute investigations&#8217;?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      By the look which Marius de Tregars kept riveted upon M. d&rsquo;Escajoul, it
      was easy to see that his confidence in him was not without limits.&nbsp;
      He felt it, and, with an air of injured innocence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you suspect me, by chance,&#8221; he said, &#8220;to have
      allowed myself to be hoodwinked by Thaller?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And as M. de Tregars said nothing, which was the most eloquent of answers,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Upon my word,&#8221; he insisted, &#8220;you are wrong to doubt me.&nbsp;
      Was it you who came after me?&nbsp; No.&nbsp; It was I, who, hearing
      through Marcolet the history of your fortune, came to tell you, &#8216;Do
      you want to know a way of swamping Thaller?&#8217;&nbsp; And the reasons I
      had to wish that Thaller might be swamped:&nbsp; I have them still.&nbsp;
      He trifled with me, he &#8216;sold&#8217; me, and he must suffer for it;
      for, if it came to be known that I could be taken in with impunity, it
      would be all over with my credit.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      After a moment of silence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you believe, then,&#8221; asked M. de Tregars, &#8220;that M. de
      Thaller is innocent?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perhaps.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That would be curious.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Or else his measures are so well taken that he has absolutely
      nothing to fear.&nbsp; If Favoral takes everything upon himself, what can
      they say to the other?&nbsp; If they have acted in collusion, the thing
      has been prepared for a long time; and, before commencing to fish, they
      must have troubled the water so well, that justice will be unable to see
      anything in it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you see no one who could help us?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Favoral&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To Maxence&rsquo;s great surprise, M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That one is gone,&#8221; he said; &#8220;and, were he at hand, it
      is quite evident that if he was in collusion with M. de Thaller, he would
      not speak.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That being the case, what can we do?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Wait.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars made a gesture of discouragement.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I might as well give up the fight, then,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and
      try to compromise.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why so?&nbsp; We don&rsquo;t know what may happen.&nbsp; Keep quiet, be
      patient; I am here, and I am looking out for squalls.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He got up and prepared to leave.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have more experience than I have,&#8221; said M. de Tregars;
      &#8220;and, since that&rsquo;s your opinion&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. d&rsquo;Escajoul had resumed all his good humor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, then, it&rsquo;s understood,&#8221; he said, pressing M. de
      Tregars&rsquo; hand.&nbsp; &#8220;I am watching for both of us; and if I see a
      chance, I come at once, and you act.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the outer door had hardly closed, when suddenly the countenance of
      Marius de Tregars changed.&nbsp; Shaking the hand which M. d&rsquo;Escajoul had
      just touched,&#8212;&#8220;Pouah!&#8221; he said with a look of thorough
      disgust,&#8212;&#8220;pouah!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And noticing Maxence&rsquo;s look of utter surprise,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t you understand,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that this old rascal
      has been sent to me by Thaller to feel my intentions, and mislead me by
      false information?&nbsp; I had scented him, fortunately; and, if either
      one of us is dupe of the other, I have every reason to believe that it
      will not be me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They had finished their breakfast.&nbsp; M. de Tregars called his servant.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you been for a carriage?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is at the door, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, then, come along.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had the good sense not to over-estimate himself.&nbsp; Perfectly
      convinced that he could accomplish nothing alone, he was firmly resolved
      to trust blindly to Marius de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      He followed him, therefore; and it was only after the carriage had
      started, that he ventured to ask,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where are we going?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Didn&rsquo;t you hear me,&#8221; replied M. de Tregars, &#8220;order the
      driver to take us to the court-house?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg your pardon; but what I wish to know is, what we are going to
      do there?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are going, my dear friend, to ask an audience of the judge who
      has your father&rsquo;s case in charge, and deposit into his hands the fifteen
      thousand francs you have in your pocket.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&nbsp; You wish me to&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think it better to place that money into the hands of justice,
      which will appreciate the step, than into those of M. de Thaller, who
      would not breathe a word about it.&nbsp; We are in a position where
      nothing should be neglected; and that money may prove an indication.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But they had arrived.&nbsp; M. de Tregars guided Maxence through the
      labyrinth of corridors of the building, until he came to a long gallery,
      at the entrance of which an usher was seated reading a newspaper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Barban d&rsquo;Avranchel?&#8221; inquired M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is in his office,&#8221; replied the usher.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Please ask him if he would receive an important deposition in the
      Favoral case.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The usher rose somewhat reluctantly, and, while he was gone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will go in alone,&#8221; said M. de Tregars to Maxence.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I shall not appear; and it is important that my name should not
      even be pronounced.&nbsp; But, above all, try and remember even the most
      insignificant words of the judge; for, upon what he tells you, I shall
      regulate my conduct.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The usher returned.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M. d&rsquo;Avranchel will receive you,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; And, leading
      Maxence to the extremity of the gallery, he opened a small door, and
      pushed him in, saying at the same time,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is it, sir:&nbsp; walk in.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a small room, with a low ceiling, and poorly furnished.&nbsp; The
      faded curtains and threadbare carpet showed plainly that more than one
      judge had occupied it, and that legions of accused criminals had passed
      through it.&nbsp; In front of a table, two men&#8212;one old, the judge;
      the other young, the clerk&#8212;were signing and classifying papers.&nbsp;
      These papers related to the Favoral case, and were all indorsed in large
      letters:&nbsp; Mutual Credit Company.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as Maxence appeared, the judge rose, and, after measuring him with
      a clear and cold look:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who are you?&#8221; he interrogated.
    </p>
    <p>
      In a somewhat husky voice, Maxence stated his name and surname.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! you are Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s son,&#8221; interrupted the judge.&nbsp;
      &#8220;And it was you who helped him escape through the window?&nbsp; I
      was going to send you a summons this very day; but, since you are here, so
      much the better.&nbsp; You have something important to communicate, I have
      been told.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Very few people, even among the most strictly honest, can overcome a
      certain unpleasant feeling when, having crossed the threshold of the
      palace of justice, they find themselves in presence of a judge.&nbsp; More
      than almost any one else, Maxence was likely to be accessible to that
      vague and inexplicable feeling; and it was with an effort that he
      answered,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;On Saturday evening, the Baron de Thaller called at our house a few
      minutes before the commissary.&nbsp; After loading my father with
      reproaches, he invited him to leave the country; and, in order to
      facilitate his flight, he handed him these fifteen thousand francs.&nbsp;
      My father declined to accept them; and, at the moment of parting, he
      recommended to me particularly to return them to M. de Thaller.&nbsp; I
      thought it best to return them to you, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because I wished the fact known to you of the money having been
      offered and refused.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Barban d&rsquo;Avranchel was quietly stroking his whiskers, once of a bright
      red, but now almost entirely white.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is this an insinuation against the manager of the Mutual Credit?&#8221;
      he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence looked straight at him; and, in a tone which affirmed precisely
      the reverse,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I accuse no one,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must tell you,&#8221; resumed the judge, &#8220;that M. de
      Thaller has himself informed me of this circumstance.&nbsp; When he called
      at your house, he was ignorant, as yet, of the extent of the
      embezzlements, and was in hopes of being able to hush up the affair.&nbsp;
      That&rsquo;s why he wished his cashier to start for Belgium.&nbsp; This system
      of helping criminals to escape the just punishment of their crimes is to
      be bitterly deplored; but it is quite the habit of your financial
      magnates, who prefer sending some poor devil of an employe to hang himself
      abroad than run the risk of compromising their credit by confessing that
      they have been robbed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence might have had a great deal to say; but M. de Tregars had
      recommended him the most extreme reserve.&nbsp; He remained silent.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;On the other hand,&#8221; resumed the judge, &#8220;the refusal to
      accept the money so generously offered does not speak in favor of Vincent
      Favoral.&nbsp; He was well aware, when he left, that it would require a
      great deal of money to reach the frontier, escape pursuit, and hide
      himself abroad; and, if he refused the fifteen thousand francs, it must
      have been because he was well provided for already.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Tears of shame and rage started from Maxence&rsquo;s eyes.&nbsp; &#8220;I am
      certain, sir,&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;that my father went off without
      a sou.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What has become of the millions, then?&#8221; he asked coldly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence hesitated.&nbsp; Why not mention his suspicions?&nbsp; He dared
      not.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My father speculated at the bourse,&#8221; he stammered.&nbsp;
      &#8220;And he led a scandalous conduct, keeping up, away from home, a
      style of living which must have absorbed immense sums.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We knew nothing of it, sir; and our first suspicions were aroused
      by what the commissary of police told us.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The judge insisted no more; and in a tone which indicated that his
      question was a mere matter of form, and he attached but little importance
      to the answer,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have no news from your father?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;None whatever.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you have no idea where he has gone?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;None in the least.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. d&rsquo;Avranchel had already resumed his seat at the table, and was again
      busy with his papers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You may retire,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;You will be notified
      if I need you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence felt much discouraged when he joined M. de Tregars at the entrance
      of the gallery.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The judge is convinced of M. de Thaller&rsquo;s entire innocence,&#8221;
      he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      But as soon as he had narrated, with a fidelity that did honor to his
      memory, all that had just occurred,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing is lost yet,&#8221; declared M. de Tregars.&nbsp; And,
      taking from his pocket the bill for two trunks, which had been found in M.
      Favoral&rsquo;s portfolio,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There,&#8221; he said, &#8220;we shall know our fate.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      IV
    </h2>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars and Maxence were in luck.&nbsp; They had a good driver and a
      fair horse; and in twenty minutes they were at the trunk store.&nbsp; As
      soon as the cab stopped,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; exclaimed M. de Tregars, &#8220;I suppose it has to be
      done.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, with the look of a man who has made up his mind to do something which
      is extremely repugnant to him, he jumped out, and, followed by Maxence,
      entered the shop.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a modest establishment; and the people who kept it, husband and
      wife, seeing two customers coming in, rushed to meet them, with that
      welcoming smile which blossoms upon the lips of every Parisian shopkeeper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What will you have, gentlemen?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, with wonderful volubility, they went on enumerating every article
      which they had for sale in their shop,&#8212;from the &#8220;indispensable-necessary,&#8221;
      containing seventy-seven pieces of solid silver, and costing four thousand
      francs, down to the humblest carpet-bag at thirty-nine cents.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Marius de Tregars interrupted them as soon as he could get an
      opportunity, and, showing them their bill,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was here, wasn&rsquo;t it,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;that the two
      trunks were bought which are charged in this bill?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; answered simultaneously both husband and wife.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When were they delivered?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Our porter went to deliver them, less than two hours after they
      were bought.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      By this time the shopkeepers were beginning to exchange uneasy looks.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why do you ask?&#8221; inquired the woman in a tone which indicated
      that she had the settled intention not to answer, unless for good and
      valid reason.
    </p>
    <p>
      To obtain the simplest information is not always as easy as might be
      supposed.&nbsp; The suspicion of the Parisian tradesman is easily aroused;
      and, as his head is stuffed with stories of spies and robbers, as soon as
      he is questioned he becomes as dumb as an oyster.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars had foreseen the difficulty:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg you to believe, madame,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;that my
      questions are not dictated by an idle curiosity.&nbsp; Here are the facts.&nbsp;
      A relative of ours, a man of a certain age, of whom we are very fond, and
      whose head is a little weak, left his home some forty-eight hours since.&nbsp;
      We are looking for him, and we are in hopes, if we find these trunks, to
      find him at the same time.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With furtive glances, the husband and wife were tacitly consulting each
      other.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The fact is,&#8221; they said, &#8220;we wouldn&rsquo;t like, under any
      consideration, to commit an indiscretion which might result to the
      prejudice of a customer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fear nothing,&#8221; said M. de Tregars with a reassuring gesture.&nbsp;
      &#8220;If we have not had recourse to the police, it&rsquo;s because, you know,
      it isn&rsquo;t pleasant to have the police interfere in one&rsquo;s affairs.&nbsp; If
      you have any objections to answer me, however, I must, of course, apply to
      the commissary.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The argument proved decisive.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If that&rsquo;s the case,&#8221; replied the woman, &#8220;I am ready to
      tell all I know.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, then, madame, what do you know?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;These two trunks were bought on Friday afternoon last, by a man of
      a certain age, tall, very thin, with a stern countenance, and wearing a
      long frock coat.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No more doubt,&#8221; murmured Maxence.&nbsp; &#8220;It was he.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And now,&#8221; the woman went on, &#8220;that you have just told
      me that your relative was a little weak in the head, I remember that this
      gentleman had a strange sort of way about him, and that he kept walking
      about the store as if he had fleas on his legs.&nbsp; And awful particular
      he was too!&nbsp; Nothing was handsome enough and strong enough for him;
      and he was anxious about the safety-locks, as he had, he said, many
      objects of value, papers, and securities, to put away.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And where did he tell you to send the two trunks?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Rue du Cirque, to Mme.&#8212;wait a minute, I have the name at the
      end of my tongue.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must have it on your books, too,&#8221; remarked M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      The husband was already looking over his blotter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;April 26, 1872,&#8221; he said. &#8220;26, here it is:&nbsp;
      &#8216;Two leather trunks, patent safety-locks:&nbsp; Mme. Zelie Cadelle,
      49 Rue du Cirque.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Without too much affectation, M. de Tregars had drawn near to the
      shopkeeper, and was looking over his shoulder.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is that,&#8221; he asked, &#8220;written there, below the
      address?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That, sir, is the direction left by the customer &#8216;Mark on
      each end of the trunks, in large letters, &#8220;Rio de Janeiro.&#8221;&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence could not suppress an exclamation.&nbsp; &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the tradesman mistook him; and, seizing this magnificent opportunity
      to display his knowledge,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Rio de Janeiro is the capital of Brazil,&#8221; he said in a tone
      of importance.&nbsp; &#8220;And your relative evidently intended to go
      there; and, if he has not changed his mind, I doubt whether you can
      overtake him; for the Brazilian steamer was to have sailed yesterday from
      Havre.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whatever may have been his intentions, M. de Tregars remained perfectly
      calm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If that&rsquo;s the case,&#8221; he said to the shopkeepers, &#8220;I
      think I had better give up the chase.&nbsp; I am much obliged to you,
      however, for your information.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, once out again,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you really believe,&#8221; inquired Maxence, &#8220;that my
      father has left France?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I will give you my opinion,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;after I have
      investigated matters in the Rue du Cirque.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They drove there in a few minutes; and, the cab having stopped at the
      entrance of the street, they walked on foot in front of No. 49.&nbsp; It
      was a small cottage, only one story in height, built between a sanded
      court-yard and a garden, whose tall trees showed above the roof.&nbsp; At
      the windows could be seen curtains of light-colored silk, &#8212;a sure
      indication of the presence of a young and pretty woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      For a few minutes Marius de Tregars remained in observation; but, as
      nothing stirred,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We must find out something, somehow,&#8221; he exclaimed
      impatiently.
    </p>
    <p>
      And noticing a large grocery store bearing No. 62, he directed his steps
      towards it, still accompanied by Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was the hour of the day when customers are rare.&nbsp; Standing in the
      centre of the shop, the grocer, a big fat man with an air of importance,
      was overseeing his men, who were busy putting things in order.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars took him aside, and with an accent of mystery,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am,&#8221; he said, &#8220;a clerk with M. Drayton, the jeweler
      in the Rue de la Paix; and I come to ask you one of those little favors
      which tradespeople owe to each other.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A frown appeared on the fat man&rsquo;s countenance.&nbsp; He thought, perhaps,
      that M. Drayton&rsquo;s clerks were rather too stylish-looking; or else,
      perhaps, he felt apprehensive of one of those numerous petty swindles of
      which shopkeepers are constantly the victims.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is it?&#8221; said he.&nbsp; &#8220;Speak!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am on my way,&#8221; spoke M. de Tregars, &#8220;to deliver a
      ring which a lady purchased of us yesterday.&nbsp; She is not a regular
      customer, and has given us no references.&nbsp; If she doesn&rsquo;t pay, shall
      I leave the ring?&nbsp; My employer told me, &#8216;Consult some prominent
      tradesman of the neighborhood, and follow his advice.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Prominent tradesman!&nbsp; Delicately tickled vanity was dancing in the
      grocer&rsquo;s eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the name of the lady?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mme. Zelie Cadelle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The grocer burst out laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In that case, my boy,&#8221; he said, tapping familiarly the
      shoulder of the so-called clerk, &#8220;whether she pays or not, you can
      deliver the article.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The familiarity was not, perhaps, very much to the taste of the Marquis de
      Tregars.&nbsp; No matter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is rich, then, that lady?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Personally no.&nbsp; But she is protected by an old fool, who
      allows her all her fancies.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is scandalous; and you cannot form an idea of the amount of
      money that is spent in that house.&nbsp; Horses, carriages, servants,
      dresses, balls, dinners, card-playing all night, a perpetual carnival:&nbsp;
      it must be ruinous!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars never winced.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And the old man who pays?&#8221; he asked; &#8220;do you know him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have seen him pass,&#8212;a tall, lean, old fellow, who doesn&rsquo;t
      look very rich, either.&nbsp; But excuse me:&nbsp; here is a customer I
      must wait upon.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Having walked out into the street,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We must separate now,&#8221; declared M. de Tregars to Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&nbsp; You wish to&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go and wait for me in that Caf&eacute; yonder, at the corner of the
      street.&nbsp; I must see that Zelie Cadelle and speak to her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And without suffering an objection on the part of Maxence, he walked
      resolutely up to the cottage-gate, and rang vigorously.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the sound of the bell, one of those servants stepped out into the yard,
      who seem manufactured on purpose, heaven knows where, for the special
      service of young ladies who keep house,&#8212;a tall rascal with sallow
      complexion and straight hair, a cynical eye, and a low, impudent smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you wish, sir?&#8221; he inquired through the grating.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That you should open the door, first,&#8221; uttered M. de Tregars,
      with such a look and such an accent, that the other obeyed at once.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And now,&#8221; he added, &#8220;go and announce me to Mme. Zelie
      Cadelle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Madame is out,&#8221; replied the valet.
    </p>
    <p>
      And noticing that M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Upon my word,&#8221; he said, &#8220;she has gone to the bois with
      one of her friends.&nbsp; If you won&rsquo;t believe me, ask my comrades there.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he pointed out two other servants of the same pattern as himself, who
      were silting at a table in the carriage-house, playing cards, and
      drinking.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars did not mean to be imposed upon.&nbsp; He felt certain
      that the man was lying.&nbsp; Instead, therefore, of discussing,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I want you to take me to your mistress,&#8221; he ordered, in a
      tone that admitted of no objection; &#8220;or else I&rsquo;ll find my way to her
      alone.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was evident that he would do just as he said, by force if needs be.&nbsp;
      The valet saw this, and, after hesitating a moment longer,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come along, then,&#8221; he said, &#8220;since you insist so much.&nbsp;
      We&rsquo;ll talk to the chambermaid.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, having led M. de Tregars into the vestibule, he called out, &#8220;Mam&rsquo;selle
      Amanda!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A woman at once made her appearance who was a worthy mate for the valet.&nbsp;
      She must have been about forty, and the most alarming duplicity could be
      read upon her features, deeply pitted by the small-pox.&nbsp; She wore a
      pretentious dress, an apron like a stage-servant, and a cap profusely
      decorated with flowers and ribbons.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here is a gentleman,&#8221; said the valet, &#8220;who insists upon
      seeing madame.&nbsp; You fix it with him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Better than her fellow servant, Mlle. Amanda could judge with whom she had
      to deal.&nbsp; A single glance at this obstinate visitor convinced her
      that he was not one who can be easily turned off.
    </p>
    <p>
      Putting on, therefore, her pleasantest smile, thus displaying at the same
      time her decayed teeth,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The fact is that monsieur will very much disturb madame,&#8221; she
      observed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall excuse myself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But I&rsquo;ll be scolded.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Instead of answering, M. de Tregars took a couple of twenty-franc-notes
      out of his pocket, and slipped them into her hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Please follow me to the parlor, then,&#8221; she said with a heavy
      sigh.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars did so, whilst observing everything around him with the
      attentive perspicacity of a deputy sheriff preparing to make out an
      inventory.
    </p>
    <p>
      Being double, the house was much more spacious than could have been
      thought from the street, and arranged with that science of comfort which
      is the genius of modern architects.
    </p>
    <p>
      The most lavish luxury was displayed on all sides; not that solid, quiet,
      and harmonious luxury which is the result of long years of opulence, but
      the coarse, loud, and superficial luxury of the <i>parvenu</i>, who is
      eager to enjoy quick, and to possess all that he has craved from others.
    </p>
    <p>
      The vestibule was a folly, with its exotic plants climbing along crystal
      trellises, and its Sevres and China jardinieres filled with gigantic
      azaleas.&nbsp; And along the gilt railing of the stairs marble and bronze
      statuary was intermingled with masses of growing flowers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It must take twenty thousand francs a year to keep up this
      conservatory alone,&#8221; thought M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime the old chambermaid opened a satinwood door with silver lock.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s the parlor,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Take a seat whilst
      I go and tell madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In this parlor everything had been combined to dazzle.&nbsp; Furniture,
      carpets, hangings, every thing, was rich, too rich, furiously,
      incontestably, obviously rich.&nbsp; The chandelier was a masterpiece, the
      clock an original and unique piece of work.&nbsp; The pictures hanging
      upon the wall were all signed with the most famous names.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To judge of the rest by what I have seen,&#8221; thought M. de
      Tregars, &#8220;there must have been at least four or five hundred
      thousand francs spent on this house.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, although he was shocked by a quantity of details which betrayed the
      most absolute lack of taste, he could hardly persuade himself that the
      cashier of the Mutual Credit could be the master of this sumptuous
      dwelling; and he was asking himself whether he had not followed the wrong
      scent, when a circumstance came to put an end to all his doubts.
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon the mantlepiece, in a small velvet frame, was Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s
      portrait.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had been seated for a few minutes, and was collecting his
      somewhat scattered thoughts, when a slight grating sound, and a rustling
      noise, made him turn around.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Zelie Cadelle was coming in.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was a woman of some twenty-five or six, rather tall, lithe, and well
      made.&nbsp; Her face was pale and worn; and her heavy dark hair was
      scattered over her neck and shoulders.&nbsp; She looked at once sarcastic
      and good-natured, impudent and naive, with her sparkling eyes, her
      turned-up nose, and wide mouth furnished with teeth, sound and white, like
      those of a young dog.&nbsp; She had wasted no time upon her dress; for she
      wore a plain blue cashmere wrapper, fastened at the waist with a sort of
      silk scarf of similar color.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the very threshold,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me!&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;how very singular!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars stepped forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What?&#8221; he inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, nothing!&#8221; she replied,&#8212;&#8220;nothing at all!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And without ceasing to look at him with a wondering eye, but suddenly
      changing her tone of voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And so, sir,&#8221; she said, &#8220;my servants have been unable
      to keep you from forcing yourself into my house!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I hope, madame,&#8221; said M. de Tregars with a polite bow,
      &#8220;that you will excuse my persistence.&nbsp; I come for a matter
      which can suffer no delay.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was still looking at him obstinately.&nbsp; &#8220;Who are you?&#8221;
      she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My name will not afford you any information.&nbsp; I am the Marquis
      de Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Tregars!&#8221; she repeated, looking up at the ceiling, as if in
      search of an inspiration.&nbsp; &#8220;Tregars!&nbsp; Never heard of it!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And throwing herself into an arm chair,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, sir, what do you wish with me, then?&nbsp; Speak!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He had taken a seat near her, and kept his eyes riveted upon hers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have come, madame,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;to ask you to put me
      in the way to see and speak to the man whose photograph is there on the
      mantlepiece.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He expected to take her by surprise, and that by a shudder, a cry, a
      gesture, she might betray her secret.&nbsp; Not at all.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you, then, one of M. Vincent&rsquo;s friends?&#8221; she asked
      quietly.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars understood, and this was subsequently confirmed, that it was
      under his Christian name of Vincent alone, that the cashier of the Mutual
      Credit was known in the Rue du Cirque.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I am a friend of his,&#8221; he replied; &#8220;and if I could
      see him, I could probably render him an important service.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, you are too late.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because M. Vincent put off more than twenty-four hours since?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you sure of that?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As sure as a person can be who went to the railway station
      yesterday with him and all his baggage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You saw him leave?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As I see you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where was he going?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To Havre, to take the steamer for Brazil, which was to sail on the
      same day; so that, by this time, he must be awfully seasick.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you really think that it was his intention to go to Brazil?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He said so.&nbsp; It was written on his thirty-six trunks in
      letters half a foot high.&nbsp; Besides, he showed me his ticket.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you any idea what could have induced him to expatriate himself
      thus, at his age?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He told me he had spent all his money, and also some of other
      people&rsquo;s; that he was afraid of being arrested; and that he was going
      yonder to be quiet, and try to make another fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Was Mme. Zelie speaking in good faith?&nbsp; To ask the question would
      have been rather naive; but an effort might be made to find out.&nbsp;
      Carefully concealing his own impressions, and the importance he attached
      to this conversation,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I pity you sincerely, madame,&#8221; resumed M. de Tregars; &#8220;for
      you must be sorely grieved by this sudden departure.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Me!&#8221; she said in a voice that came from the heart.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I don&rsquo;t care a straw.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Marquis de Tregars knew well enough the ladies of the class to which he
      supposed that Mme. Zelie Cadelle must belong, not to be surprised at this
      frank declaration.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you are indebted to him for the
      princely magnificence that surrounds you here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He being gone, as you say, will you be able to keep up your style
      of living?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Half raising herself from her seat,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I haven&rsquo;t the slightest idea of doing so,&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Never in the whole world have I had such a stupid time as for the
      last five months that I have spent in this gilded cage.&nbsp; What a bore,
      my beloved brethren!&nbsp; I am yawning still at the mere thought of the
      number of times I have yawned in it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars&rsquo; gesture of surprise was the more natural, that his surprise
      was immense.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are tired being here?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To death.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you have only been here five months?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me; yes! and by the merest chance, too, you&rsquo;ll see.&nbsp; One
      day at the beginning of last December, I was coming from&#8212;but no
      matter where I was coming from.&nbsp; At any rate, I hadn&rsquo;t a cent in my
      pocket, and nothing but an old calico dress on my back; and I was going
      along, not in the best of humor, as you may imagine, when I feel that some
      one is following me.&nbsp; Without looking around, and from the corner of
      my eye, I look over my shoulder, and I see a respectable-looking old
      gentleman, wearing a long frock-coat.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Vincent?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In his own natural person, and who was walking, walking.&nbsp; I
      quietly begin to walk slower; and, as soon as we come to a place where
      there was hardly any one, he comes up alongside of me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Something comical must have happened at this moment, which Mme. Zelie
      Cadelle said nothing about; for she was laughing most heartily, &#8212;a
      frank and sonorous laughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; she resumed, &#8220;he begins at once to explain that
      I remind him of a person whom he loved tenderly, and whom he has just had
      the misfortune to lose, adding, that he would deem himself the happiest of
      men if I would allow him to take care of me, and insure me a brilliant
      position.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see!&nbsp; That rascally Vincent!&#8221; said M. de Tregars,
      just to be saying something.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Zelie shook her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know him,&#8221; she resumed.&nbsp; &#8220;He is not young; he
      is not handsome; he is not funny.&nbsp; I did not fancy him one bit; and,
      if I had only known where to find shelter for the night, I&rsquo;d soon have
      sent him to the old Nick,&#8212;him and his brilliant position.&nbsp; But,
      not having enough money to buy myself a penny-loaf, it wasn&rsquo;t the time to
      put on any airs.&nbsp; So I tell him that I accept.&nbsp; He goes for a
      cab; we get into it; and he brings me right straight here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Positively M. de Tregars required his entire self-control to conceal the
      intensity of his curiosity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Was this house, then, already as it is now?&#8221; he interrogated.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Precisely, except that there were no servants in it, except the
      chambermaid Amanda, who is M. Favoral&rsquo;s confidante.&nbsp; All the others
      had been dismissed; and it was a hostler from a stable near by who came to
      take care of the horses.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you may imagine what I looked like in the midst of all this
      magnificence, with my old shoes and my fourpenny skirt.&nbsp; Something
      like a grease-spot on a satin dress.&nbsp; M. Vincent seemed delighted,
      nevertheless.&nbsp; He had sent Amanda out to get me some under-clothing
      and a ready-made wrapper; and, whilst waiting, he took me all through the
      house, from the cellar to the garret, saying that everything was at my
      command, and that the next day I would have a battalion of servants to
      wait on me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was evidently with perfect frankness that she was speaking, and with
      the pleasure one feels in telling an extraordinary adventure.&nbsp; But
      suddenly she stopped short, as if discovering that she was forgetting
      herself, and going farther than was proper.
    </p>
    <p>
      And it was only after a moment of reflection that she went on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was like fairyland to me.&nbsp; I had never tasted the opulence
      of the great, you see, and I had never had any money except that which I
      earned.&nbsp; So, during the first days, I did nothing but run up and down
      stairs, admiring everything, feeling everything with my own hands, and
      looking at myself in the glass to make sure that I was not dreaming.&nbsp;
      I rang the bell just to make the servants come up; I spent hours trying
      dresses; then I&rsquo;d have the horses put to the carriage, and either ride to
      the bois, or go out shopping.&nbsp; M. Vincent gave me as much money as I
      wanted; and it seemed as though I never spent enough.&nbsp; I shout, I was
      like a mad woman.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A cloud appeared upon Mme. Zelie&rsquo;s countenance, and, changing suddenly her
      tone and her manner,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;one gets tired of every
      thing.&nbsp; At the end of two weeks I knew the house from top to bottom,
      and after a month I was sick of the whole thing; so that one night I began
      dressing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;Where do you want to go?&#8217;&nbsp; Amanda asked me. <br />&#8216;Why,
      to Mabille, to dance a quadrille, or two.&#8217; <br />&#8216;Impossible!&#8217;
      <br />&#8216;Why?&#8217; <br />&#8216;Because M. Vincent does not wish you
      to go out at night.&#8217; <br />&#8216;We&rsquo;ll see about that!&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The next day, I tell all this to M. Vincent; and he says that
      Amanda is right; that it is not proper for a woman in my position to
      frequent balls; and that, if I want to go out at night, I can stay.&nbsp;
      Get out!&nbsp; I tell you what, if it hadn&rsquo;t been for the fine carriage,
      and all that, I would have cleared out that minute.&nbsp; Any way, I
      became disgusted from that moment, and have been more and more ever since;
      and, if M. Vincent had not himself left, I certainly would.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To go where?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Anywhere.&nbsp; Look here, now! do you suppose I need a man to
      support me!&nbsp; No, thank Heaven!&nbsp; Little Zelie, here present, has
      only to apply to any dressmaker, and she&rsquo;ll be glad to give her four
      francs a day to run the machine.&nbsp; And she&rsquo;ll be free, at least; and
      she can laugh and dance as much as she likes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had made a mistake:&nbsp; he had just discovered it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Zelie Cadelle was certainly not particularly virtuous; but she was
      far from being the woman he expected to meet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At any rate,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you did well to wait patiently.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not regret it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If you can keep this house&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She interrupted him with a great burst of laughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This house!&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;Why, it was sold
      long ago, with every thing in it,&#8212;furniture, horses, carriages,
      every thing except me.&nbsp; A young gentleman, very well dressed, bought
      it for a tall girl, who looks like a goose, and has far over a thousand
      francs of red hair on her head.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you sure of that?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sure as I live, having seen with my own eyes the young swell and
      his red-headed friend counting heaps of bank-notes to M. Vincent.&nbsp;
      They are to move in day after to-morrow; and they have invited me to the
      house-warming.&nbsp; But no more of it for me, I thank you!&nbsp; I am
      sick and tired of all these people.&nbsp; And the proof of it is, I am
      busy packing my things; and lots of them I have too,&#8212;dresses,
      underclothes, jewelry.&nbsp; He was a good-natured fellow, old Vincent
      was, anyhow.&nbsp; He gave me money enough to buy some furniture.&nbsp; I
      have hired a small apartment; and I am going to set up dress-making on my
      own hook.&nbsp; And won&rsquo;t we laugh then! and won&rsquo;t we have some fun to
      make up for lost time!&nbsp; Come, my children, take your places for a
      quadrille.&nbsp; Forward two!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, bouncing out of her chair, she began sketching out one of those bold
      cancan steps which astound the policemen on duty in the ball-rooms.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bravo!&#8221; said M. de Tregars, forcing himself to smile,&#8212;&#8220;bravo!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He saw clearly now what sort of woman was Mme. Zelie Cadelle; how he
      should speak to her, and what cords he might yet cause to vibrate within
      her.&nbsp; He recognized the true daughter of Paris, wayward and nervous,
      who in the midst of her disorders preserves an instinctive pride; who
      places her independence far above all the money in the world; who gives,
      rather than sells, herself; who knows no law but her caprice, no morality
      but the policeman, no religion but pleasure.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as she had returned to her seat,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There you are dancing gayly,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and poor
      Vincent is doubtless groaning at this moment over his separation from you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah!&nbsp; I&rsquo;d pity him if I had time,&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He was fond of you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t speak of it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If he had not been fond of you, he would not have put you here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Zelie made a little face of equivocal meaning.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What proof is that?&#8221; she murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He would not have spent so much money for you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For me!&#8221; she interrupted,&#8212;&#8220;for me!&nbsp; What
      have I cost him of any consequence?&nbsp; Is it for me that he bought,
      furnished, and fitted out this house?&nbsp; No, no!&nbsp; He had the cage;
      and he put in the bird, &#8212;the first he happened to find.&nbsp; He
      brought me here as he might have brought any other woman, young or old,
      pretty or ugly, blonde or brunette.&nbsp; As to what I spent here, it was
      a mere bagatelle compared with what the other did,&#8212;the one before
      me.&nbsp; Amanda kept telling me all the time I was a fool.&nbsp; You may
      believe me, then, when I tell you that M. Vincent will not wet many
      handkerchiefs with the tears he&rsquo;ll shed over me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But do you know what became of the one before you, as you call her,
      &#8212;whether she is alive or dead, and owing to what circumstances the
      cage became empty?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, instead of answering, Mme. Zelie was fixing upon Marius de Tregars a
      suspicious glance.&nbsp; And, after a moment only,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why do you ask me that?&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I would like to know.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She did not permit him to proceed.&nbsp; Rising from her seat, and
      stepping briskly up to him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you belong to the police, by chance?&#8221; she asked in a tone
      of mistrust.
    </p>
    <p>
      If she was anxious, it was evidently because she had motives of anxiety
      which she had concealed.&nbsp; If, two or three times she had interrupted
      herself, it was because, manifestly, she had a secret to keep.&nbsp; If
      the idea of police had come into her mind, it is because, very probably,
      they had recommended her to be on her guard.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars understood all this, and, also, that he had tried to go too
      fast.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do I look like a secret police-agent?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was examining him with all her power of penetration.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not at all, I confess,&#8221; she replied.&nbsp; &#8220;But, if you
      are not one, how is it that you come to my house, without knowing me from
      this side of sole leather, to ask me a whole lot of questions, which I am
      fool enough to answer?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I told you I was a friend of M. Favoral.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who&rsquo;s that Favoral?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s M. Vincent&rsquo;s real name, madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She opened her eyes wide.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must be mistaken.&nbsp; I never heard him called any thing but
      Vincent.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is because he had especial motives for concealing his
      personality.&nbsp; The money he spent here did not belong to him:&nbsp; he
      took it, he stole it, from the Mutual Credit Company where he was cashier,
      and where he left a deficit of twelve millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Zelie stepped back as though she had trodden on a snake.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s impossible!&#8221; she cried.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is the exact truth.&nbsp; Haven&rsquo;t you seen in the papers the
      case of Vincent Favoral, cashier of the Mutual Credit?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, taking a paper from his pocket, he handed it to the young woman,
      saying, &#8220;Read.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But she pushed it back, not without a slight blush.&nbsp; &#8220;Oh, I
      believe you!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      The fact is, and Marius understood it, she did not read very fluently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The worst of M. Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s conduct,&#8221; he resumed,
      &#8220;is, that, while he was throwing away money here by the handful, he
      subjected his family to the most cruel privations.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He refused the necessaries of life to his wife, the best and the
      worthiest of women; he never gave a cent to his son; and he deprived his
      daughter of every thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, if I could have suspected such a thing!&#8221; murmured Mme.
      Zelie.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Finally, and to cap the&#8212;climax, he has gone, leaving his wife
      and children literally without bread.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Transported with indignation,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, that man must have been a horrible old scoundrel!&#8221;
      exclaimed the young woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      This is just the point to which M. de Tregars wished to bring her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And now,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;you must understand the enormous
      interest we have in knowing what has become of him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have already told you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had risen, in his turn.&nbsp; Taking Mme. Zelie&rsquo;s hands, and
      fixing upon her one of those acute looks, which search for the truth down
      to the innermost recesses of the conscience,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, my dear child,&#8221; he began in a penetrating voice,
      &#8220;you are a worthy and honest girl.&nbsp; Will you leave in the most
      frightful despair a family who appeal to your heart?&nbsp; Be sure that no
      harm will ever happen through us to Vincent Favoral.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She raised her hand, as they do to take an oath in a court of justice,
      and, in a solemn tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I swear,&#8221; she uttered, &#8220;that I went to the station with
      M. Vincent; that he assured me that he was going to Brazil; that he had
      his passage-ticket; and that all his baggage was marked, &#8216;Rio de
      Janeiro.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The disappointment was great:&nbsp; and M. de Tregars manifested it by a
      gesture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At least,&#8221; he insisted, &#8220;tell me who the woman was
      whose place you took here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But already had the young woman returned to her feeling of mistrust.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How in the world do you expect me to know?&#8221; she replied.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Go and ask Amanda.&nbsp; I have no accounts to give you.&nbsp;
      Besides, I have to go and finish packing my trunks.&nbsp; So good-by, and
      enjoy yourself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she went out so quick, that she caught Amanda, the chambermaid,
      kneeling behind the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So that woman was listening,&#8221; thought M. de Tregars, anxious
      and dissatisfied.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was in vain that he begged Mme. Zelie to return, and to hear a
      single word more.&nbsp; She disappeared; and he had to resign himself to
      leave the house without learning any thing more for the present.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had remained there very long; and he was wondering, as he walked out,
      whether Maxence had not got tired waiting for him in the little Caf&eacute;
      where he had sent him.
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence had remained faithfully at his post.&nbsp; And when Marius de
      Tregars came to sit by him, whilst exclaiming, &#8220;Here you are at
      last!&#8221; he called his attention at the same time with a gesture, and
      a wink from the corner of his eye, to two men sitting at the adjoining
      table before a bowl of punch.
    </p>
    <p>
      Certain, now, that M. de Tregars would remain on the lookout, Maxence was
      knocking on the table with his fist, to call the waiter, who was busy
      playing billiards with a customer.
    </p>
    <p>
      And when he came at last, justly annoyed at being disturbed,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Give us two mugs of beer,&#8221; Maxence ordered, &#8220;and bring
      us a pack of cards.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars understood very well that something extraordinary had
      happened; but, unable to guess what, he leaned over towards his companion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is it?&#8221; he whispered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We must hear what these two men are saying; and we&rsquo;ll play a game
      of piquet for a subterfuge.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The waiter returned, bringing two glasses of a muddy liquid, a piece of
      cloth, the color of which was concealed under a layer of dirt, and a pack
      of cards horribly soft and greasy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My deal,&#8221; said Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      And he began shuffling, and giving the cards, whilst M. de Tregars was
      examining the punch-drinkers at the next table.
    </p>
    <p>
      In one of the two, a man still young, wearing a striped vest with alpaca
      sleeves, he thought he recognized one of the rascally-looking fellows he
      had caught a glimpse of in Mme. Zelie Cadelle&rsquo;s carriage-house.
    </p>
    <p>
      The other, an old man, whose inflamed complexion and blossoming nose
      betrayed old habits of drunkenness, looked very much like a coachman out
      of place.&nbsp; Baseness and duplicity bloomed upon his countenance; and
      the brightness of his small eyes rendered still more alarming the slyly
      obsequious smile that was stereotyped upon his thin and pale lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were so completely absorbed in their conversation, that they paid no
      attention whatever to what was going on around them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; the old one was saying, &#8220;it&rsquo;s all over.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Entirely.&nbsp; The house is sold.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And the boss?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Gone to America.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&nbsp; Suddenly, that way?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No.&nbsp; We supposed he was going on some journey, because, every
      day since the beginning of the week, they were bringing in trunks and
      boxes; but no one knew exactly when he would go.&nbsp; Now, in the night
      of Saturday to Sunday, he drops in the house like a bombshell, wakes up
      everybody, and says he must leave immediately.&nbsp; At once we harness
      up, we load the baggage up, we drive him to the Western Railway Station,
      and good-by, Vincent!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And the young lady?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She&rsquo;s got to get out in the next twenty-four hours; but she don&rsquo;t
      seem to mind it one bit.&nbsp; The fact is we are the ones who grieve the
      most, after all.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it possible?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is so.&nbsp; She was a good girl; and we won&rsquo;t soon find one
      like her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old man seemed distressed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bad luck!&#8221; he growled.&nbsp; &#8220;I would have liked that
      house myself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, I dare say you would!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And there is no way to get in?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can&rsquo;t tell.&nbsp; It will be well to see the others, those who have
      bought.&nbsp; But I mistrust them:&nbsp; they look too stupid not to be
      mean.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Listening intently to the conversation of these two men, it was
      mechanically and at random that M. de Tregars and Maxence threw their
      cards on the table, and uttered the common terms of the game of piquet,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Five cards!&nbsp; Tierce, major!&nbsp; Three aces.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime the old man was going on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who knows but what M. Vincent may come back?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No danger of that!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The other looked carefully around, and, seeing only two players absorbed
      in their game,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;M.&nbsp; Vincent is completely
      ruined, it seems.&nbsp; He spent all his money, and a good deal of other
      people&rsquo;s money besides.&nbsp; Amanda, the chambermaid, told me; and I
      guess she knows.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You thought he was so rich!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He was.&nbsp; But no matter how big a bag is:&nbsp; if you keep
      taking out of it, you must get to the bottom.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then he spent a great deal?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s incredible!&nbsp; I have been in extravagant houses; but
      nowhere have I ever seen money fly as it has during the five months that I
      have been in that house.&nbsp; A regular pillage!&nbsp; Everybody helped
      themselves; and what was not in the house, they could get from the
      tradespeople, have it charged on the bill; and it was all paid without a
      word.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then, yes, indeed, the money must have gone pretty lively,&#8221;
      said the old one in a convinced tone.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well,&#8221; replied the other, &#8220;that was nothing yet.&nbsp;
      Amanda the chambermaid who has been in the house fifteen years, told us
      some stories that would make you jump.&nbsp; She was not much for
      spending, Zelie; but some of the others, it seems . . .&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It required the greatest effort on the part of Maxence and M. de Tregars
      not to play, but only to pretend to play, and to continue to count
      imaginary points,&#8212;&#8220;One, two, three, four.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Fortunately the coachman with the red nose seemed much interested.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What others?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That I don&rsquo;t know any thing about,&#8221; replied the younger
      valet.&nbsp; &#8220;But you may imagine that there must have been more
      than one in that little house during the many years that M. Vincent owned
      it,&#8212;a man who hadn&rsquo;t his equal for women, and who was worth
      millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what was his business?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t know that, either.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What! there were ten of you in the house, and you didn&rsquo;t know the
      profession of the man who paid you all?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We were all new.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The chambermaid, Amanda, must have known.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When she was asked, she said that he was a merchant.&nbsp; One
      thing is sure, he was a queer old chap.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      So interested was the old coachman, that, seeing the punch-bowl empty, he
      called for another.&nbsp; His comrade could not fail to show his
      appreciation of such politeness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, yes!&#8221; he went on, &#8220;old Vincent was an eccentric
      fellow; and never, to see him, could you have suspected that he cut up
      such capers, and that he threw money away by the handful.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Imagine a man about fifty years old, stiff as a post, with a face
      about as pleasant as a prison-gate.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s the boss!&nbsp; Summer
      and winter, he wore laced shoes, blue stockings, gray pantaloons that were
      too short, a cotton necktie, and a frock-coat that came down to his
      ankles.&nbsp; In the street, you would have taken him for a hosier who had
      retired before his fortune was made.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You don&rsquo;t say so!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, never have I seen a man look so much like an old miser.&nbsp;
      You think, perhaps, that he came in a carriage.&nbsp; Not a bit of it!&nbsp;
      He came in the omnibus, my boy, and outside too, for three sous; and when
      it rained he opened his umbrella.&nbsp; But the moment he had crossed the
      threshold of the house, presto, pass! complete change of scene.&nbsp; The
      miser became pacha.&nbsp; He took off his old duds, put on a blue velvet
      robe; and then there was nothing handsome enough, nothing good enough,
      nothing expensive enough for him.&nbsp; And, when he had acted the my lord
      to his heart&rsquo;s content, he put on his old traps again, resumed his
      prison-gate face, climbed up on top of the omnibus, and went off as he
      came.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you were not surprised, all of you, at such a life?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very much so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you did not think that these singular whims must conceal
      something?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, but we did!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you didn&rsquo;t try to find out what that something was?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How could we?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Was it very difficult to follow your boss, and ascertain where he
      went, after leaving the house?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Certainly not; but what then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;you would have found out his secret
      in the end; and then you would have gone to him and told him, &#8216;Give
      me so much, or I peach.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      V
    </h2>
    <p>
      This story of M. Vincent, as told by these two honest companions, was
      something like the vulgar legend of other people&rsquo;s money, so eagerly
      craved, and so madly dissipated.&nbsp; Easily-gotten wealth is easily
      gotten rid of.&nbsp; Stolen money has fatal tendencies, and turns
      irresistibly to gambling, horse-jockeys, fast women, all the ruinous
      fancies, all the unwholesome gratifications.
    </p>
    <p>
      They are rare indeed, among the daring cut-throats of speculation, those
      to whom their ill-gotten gain proves of real service,&#8212;so rare, that
      they are pointed out, and are as easily numbered as the girls who leap
      some night from the street to a ten-thousand-franc apartment, and manage
      to remain there.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seized with the intoxication of sudden wealth, they lose all measure and
      all prudence.&nbsp; Whether they believe their luck inexhaustible, or fear
      a sudden turn of fortune, they make haste to enjoy themselves, and they
      fill the noted restaurants, the leading Caf&eacute;s, the theatres, the
      clubs, the race-courses, with their impudent personality, the clash of
      their voice, the extravagance of their mistresses, the noise of their
      expenses, and the absurdity of their vanity.&nbsp; And they go on and on,
      lavishing other people&rsquo;s money, until the fatal hour of one of those
      disastrous liquidations which terrify the courts and the exchange, and
      cause pallid faces and a gnashing of teeth in the &#8220;street,&#8221;
      until the moment when they have the choice between a pistol-shot, which
      they never choose, the criminal court, which they do their best to avoid,
      and a trip abroad.
    </p>
    <p>
      What becomes of them afterwards?&nbsp; To what gutters do they tumble from
      fall to fall?&nbsp; Does any one know what becomes of the women who
      disappear suddenly after two or three years of follies and of splendors?
    </p>
    <p>
      But it happens sometimes, as you step out of a carriage in front of some
      theatre, that you wonder where you have already seen the face of the
      wretched beggar who opens the door for you, and in a husky voice claims
      his two sous.&nbsp; You saw him at the Caf&eacute; Riche, during the six
      months that he was a big financier.
    </p>
    <p>
      Some other time you may catch, in the crowd, snatches of a strange
      conversation between two crapulous rascals.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was at the time,&#8221; says one, &#8220;when I drove that
      bright chestnut team that I had bought for twenty thousand francs of the
      eldest son of the Duke de Sermeuse.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I remember,&#8221; replies the other; &#8220;for at that moment I
      gave six thousand francs a month to little Cabriole of the Varieties.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, improbable as this may seem, it is the exact truth; for one was
      manager of a manufacturing enterprise that sank ten millions; and the
      other was at the head of a financial operation that ruined five hundred
      families.&nbsp; They had houses like the one in the Rue du Cirque,
      mistresses more expensive than Mme. Zelie Cadelle, and servants like those
      who were now talking within a step of Maxence and Marius de Tregars.&nbsp;
      The latter had resumed their conversation; and the oldest one, the
      coachman with the red nose, was saying to his younger comrade,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This Vincent affair must be a lesson to you.&nbsp; If ever you find
      yourself again in a house where so much money is spent, remember that it
      hasn&rsquo;t cost much trouble to make it, and manage somehow to get as big a
      share of it as you can.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;ve always done wherever I have been.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, above all, make haste to fill your bag, because, you see, in
      houses like that, one is never sure, one day, whether, the next, the
      gentleman will not be at Mazas, and the lady at St. Lazares.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They had done their second bowl of punch, and finished their conversation.&nbsp;
      They paid, and left.
    </p>
    <p>
      And Maxence and M. de Tregars were able, at last, to throw down their
      cards.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence was very pale; and big tears were rolling down his cheeks.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What disgrace!&#8221; he murmured:&nbsp; &#8220;This, then, is the
      other side of my father&rsquo;s existence!&nbsp; This is the way in which he
      spent the millions which he stole; whilst, in the Rue St. Gilles, he
      deprived his family of the necessaries of life!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, in a tone of utter discouragement,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now it is indeed all over, and it is useless to continue our
      search.&nbsp; My father is certainly guilty.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars was not the man thus to give up the game.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Guilty?&nbsp; Yes,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but dupe also.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whose dupe?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s what we&rsquo;ll find out, you may depend upon it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What! after what we have just heard?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have more hope than ever.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Did you learn any thing from Mme. Zelie Cadelle, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing more than you know by those two rascals&rsquo; conversation.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A dozen questions were pressing upon Maxence&rsquo;s lips; but M. de Tregars
      interrupted him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In this case, my friend, less than ever must we trust appearances.&nbsp;
      Let me speak.&nbsp; Was your father a simpleton?&nbsp; No!&nbsp; His
      ability to dissimulate, for years, his double existence, proves, on the
      contrary, a wonderful amount of duplicity.&nbsp; How is it, then, that
      latterly his conduct has been so extraordinary and so absurd?&nbsp; But
      you will doubtless say it was always such.&nbsp; In that case, I answer
      you, No; for then his secret could not have been kept for a year.&nbsp; We
      hear that other women lived in that house before Mme. Zelie Cadelle.&nbsp;
      But who were they?&nbsp; What has become of them?&nbsp; Is there any
      certainty that they have ever existed?&nbsp; Nothing proves it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The servants having been all changed, Amanda, the chambermaid, is
      the only one who knows the truth; and she will be very careful to say
      nothing about it.&nbsp; Therefore, all our positive information goes back
      no farther than five months.&nbsp; And what do we hear?&nbsp; That your
      father seemed to try and make his extravagant expenditures as conspicuous
      as possible.&nbsp; That he did not even take the trouble to conceal the
      source of the money he spent so profusely; for he told Mme. Zelie that he
      was at the end of his tether, and that, after having spent his own
      fortune, he was spending other people&rsquo;s money.&nbsp; He had announced his
      intended departure; he had sold the house, and received its price.&nbsp;
      Finally, at the last moment, what does he do?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Instead of going off quietly and secretly, like a man who is
      running away, and who knows that he is pursued, he tells every one where
      he intends to go; he writes it on all his trunks, in letters half a foot
      high; and then rides in great display to the railway station, with a
      woman, several carriages, servants, etc.&nbsp; What is the object of all
      this?&nbsp; To get caught?&nbsp; No, but to start a false scent.&nbsp;
      Therefore, in his mind, every thing must have been arranged in advance,
      and the catastrophe was far from taking him by surprise; therefore the
      scene with M. de Thaller must have been prepared; therefore, it must have
      been on purpose that he left his pocketbook behind, with the bill in it
      that was to lead us straight here; therefore all we have seen is but a
      transparent comedy, got up for our special benefit, and intended to cover
      up the truth, and mislead the law.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But Maxence was not entirely convinced.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Still,&#8221; he remarked, &#8220;those enormous expenses.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you any idea,&#8221; he said, &#8220;what display can be made
      with a million?&nbsp; Let us admit that your father spent two, four
      millions even.&nbsp; The loss of the Mutual Credit is twelve millions.&nbsp;
      What has become of the other eight?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as Maxence made no answer,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is those eight millions,&#8221; he added, &#8220;that I want,
      and that I shall have.&nbsp; It is in Paris that your father is hid, I
      feel certain.&nbsp; We must find him; and we must make him tell the truth,
      which I already more than suspect.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whereupon, throwing on the table the pint of beer which he had not drunk,
      he walked out of the Caf&eacute; with Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here you are at last!&#8221; exclaimed the coachman, who had been
      waiting at the corner for over three hours, a prey to the utmost anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars had no time for explanations; and, pushing Maxence into
      the cab, he jumped in after him, crying to the coachman,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;24 Rue Joquelet.&nbsp; Five francs extra for yourself.&#8221;&nbsp;
      A driver who expects an extra five francs, always has, for five minutes at
      least, a horse as fast as Gladiateur.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whilst the cab was speeding on to its destination,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is most important for us now,&#8221; said M. de Tregars to
      Maxence, &#8220;is to ascertain how far the Mutual Credit crisis has
      progressed; and M. Latterman of the Rue Joquelet is the man in all Paris
      who can best inform us.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whoever has made or lost five hundred francs at the bourse knows M.
      Latterman, who, since the war, calls himself an Alsatian and curses with a
      fearful accent those &#8220;parparous Broossians.&#8221;&nbsp; This worthy
      speculator modestly calls himself a money-changer; but he would be a
      simpleton who should ask him for change:&nbsp; and it is certainly not
      that sort of business which gives him the three hundred thousand francs&rsquo;
      profits which he pockets every year.
    </p>
    <p>
      When a company has failed, when it has been wound up, and the defrauded
      stockholders have received two or three per cent in all on their original
      investment, there is a prevailing idea that the certificates of its stocks
      are no longer good for any thing, except to light the fire.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s a
      mistake.&nbsp; Long after the company has foundered, its shares float,
      like the shattered debris which the sea casts upon the beach months after
      the ship has been wrecked.&nbsp; These shares M. Latterman collects, and
      carefully stores away; and upon the shelves of his office you may see
      numberless shares and bonds of those numerous companies which have
      absorbed, in the past twenty years, according to some statistics, twelve
      hundred millions, and, according to others, two thousand millions, of the
      public fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      Say but a word, and his clerks will offer you some &#8220;Franco-American
      Company,&#8221; some &#8220;Steam Navigation Company of Marseilles,&#8221;
      some &#8220;Coal and Metal Company of the Asturias,&#8221; some &#8220;Transcontinental
      Memphis and El Paso&#8221; (of the United States), some &#8220;Caumart
      Slate Works,&#8221; and hundreds of others, which, for the general public,
      have no value, save that of old paper, that is from three to five cents a
      pound.&nbsp; And yet speculators are found who buy and sell these rags.
    </p>
    <p>
      In an obscure corner of the bourse may be seen a miscellaneous population
      of old men with pointed beards, and overdressed young men, who deal in
      every thing salable, and other things besides.&nbsp; There are found
      foreign merchants, who will offer you stocks of merchandise, goods from
      auction, good claims to recover, and who at last will take out of their
      pockets an opera-glass, a Geneva watch (smuggled in), a revolver, or a
      bottle of patent hair-restorer.
    </p>
    <p>
      Such is the market to which drift those shares which were once issued to
      represent millions, and which now represent nothing but a palpable proof
      of the audacity of swindlers, and the credulity of their dupes.&nbsp; And
      there are actually buyers for these shares, and they go up or down,
      according to the ordinary laws of supply and demand; for there is a demand
      for them, and here comes in the usefulness of M. Latterman&rsquo;s business.
    </p>
    <p>
      Does a tradesman, on the eve of declaring himself bankrupt, wish to
      defraud his creditors of a part of his assets, to conceal excessive
      expenses, or cover up some embezzlement, at once he goes to the Rue
      Joquelet, procures a select assortment of &#8220;Cantonal Credit,&#8221;
      &#8220;Rossdorif Mines,&#8221; or &#8220;Maumusson Salt Works,&#8221; and
      puts them carefully away in his safe.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, when the receiver arrives,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There are my assets,&#8221; he says.&nbsp; &#8220;I have there some
      twenty, fifty, or a hundred thousand francs of stocks, the whole of which
      is not worth five francs to-day; but it isn&rsquo;t my fault.&nbsp; I thought it
      a good investment; and I didn&rsquo;t sell, because I always thought the price
      would come up again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he gets his discharge, because it would really be too cruel to punish
      a man because he has made unfortunate investments.
    </p>
    <p>
      Better than any one, M. Latterman knows for what purpose are purchased the
      valueless securities which he sells; and he actually advises his customers
      which to take in preference, in order that their purchase at the time of
      their issue may appear more natural, and more likely.&nbsp; Nevertheless,
      he claims to be a perfectly honest man, and declares that he is no more
      responsible for the swindles that are committed by means of his stocks
      than a gunsmith for a murder committed with a gun that he has sold.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But he will surely be able to tell us all about the Mutual Credit,&#8221;
      repeated Maxence to M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      Four o&rsquo;clock struck when the carriage stopped in the Rue Joquelet.&nbsp;
      The bourse had just closed; and a few groups were still standing in the
      square, or along the railings.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I hope we shall find this Latterman at home,&#8221; said Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      They started up the stairs (for it is up on the second floor that this
      worthy operator has his offices); and, having inquired,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Latterman is engaged with a customer,&#8221; answered a
      clerk.&nbsp; &#8220;Please sit down and wait.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Latterman&rsquo;s office was like all other caverns of the same kind.&nbsp; A
      very narrow space was reserved to the public; and all around, behind a
      heavy wire screen, the clerks could be seen busy with figures, or handling
      coupons.&nbsp; On the right, over a small window, appeared the word,
      &#8220;CASHIER.&#8221;&nbsp; A small door on the left led to the private
      office.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars and Maxence had patiently taken a seat on a hard leather
      bench, once red; and they were listening and looking on.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was considerable animation about the place.&nbsp; Every few minutes,
      well-dressed young men came in with a hurried and important look, and,
      taking out of their pocket a memorandum-book, they would speak a few
      sentences of that peculiar dialect, bristling with figures, which is the
      language of the bourse.&nbsp; At the end of fifteen or twenty minutes,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Will M. Latterman be engaged much longer?&#8221; inquired M. de
      Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not know,&#8221; replied a clerk.
    </p>
    <p>
      At that very moment, the little door on the left opened, and the customer
      came out who had detained M. Latterman so long.&nbsp; This customer was no
      other than M. Costeclar.&nbsp; Noticing M. de Tregars and Maxence, who had
      risen at the noise of the door, he appeared most disagreeably surprised.&nbsp;
      He even turned slightly pale, and took a step backwards, as if intending
      to return precipitately into the room that he was leaving; for M.
      Latterman&rsquo;s office, like that of all other large operators, had several
      doors, without counting the one that leads to the police-court.&nbsp; But
      M. de Tregars gave him no time to effect this retreat.&nbsp; Stepping
      suddenly forward,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221; he asked him in a tone that was almost threatening.
    </p>
    <p>
      The brilliant financier had condescended to take off his hat, usually
      riveted upon his head, and, with the smile of a knave caught in the act,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I did not expect to meet you here, my lord-marquis,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the title of &#8220;marquis,&#8221; everybody looked up.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      believe you, indeed,&#8221; said M. de Tregars.&nbsp; &#8220;But what I
      want to know is, how is the matter progressing?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The plot is thickening.&nbsp; Justice is acting.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a fact.&nbsp; Jules Jottras, of the house of Jottras and
      Brother, was arrested this morning, just as he arrived at the bourse.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because, it seems, he was an accomplice of Favoral; and it was he
      who sold the bonds stolen from the Mutual Credit.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence had started at the mention of his father&rsquo;s name but, with a
      significant glance, M. de Tregars bid him remain silent, and, in a
      sarcastic tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Famous capture!&#8221; he murmured.&nbsp; &#8220;And which proves
      the clear-sightedness of justice.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But this is not all,&#8221; resumed M. Costeclar.&nbsp; &#8220;Saint
      Pavin, the editor of &#8216;The Financial Pilot,&#8217; you know, is
      thought to be seriously compromised.&nbsp; There was a rumor, at the close
      of the market, that a warrant either had been, or was about to be, issued
      against him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And the Baron de Thaller?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The employes of the office could not help admiring M. Costeclar&rsquo;s
      extraordinary amount of patience.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The baron,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;made his appearance at the
      bourse this afternoon, and was the object of a veritable ovation.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is admirable!&nbsp; And what did he say?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That the damage was already repaired.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then the shares of the Mutual Credit must have advanced.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately, not.&nbsp; They did not go above one hundred and ten
      francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Were you not astonished at that?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not much, because, you see, I am a business-man, I am; and I know
      pretty well how things work.&nbsp; When they left M. de Thaller this
      morning, the stockholders of the Mutual Credit had a meeting; and they
      pledged themselves, upon honor, not to sell, so as not to break the
      market.&nbsp; As soon as they had separated, each one said to himself,
      &#8216;Since the others are going to keep their stock, like fools, I am
      going to sell mine.&#8217;&nbsp; Now, as there were three or four hundred
      of them who argued the same way, the market was flooded with shares.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Looking the brilliant financier straight in the eyes,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yourself?&#8221; interrupted M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I!&#8221; stammered M. Costeclar, so visibly agitated, that the
      clerks could not help laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&nbsp; I wish to know if you have been more faithful to your
      word than the stockholders of whom you are speaking, and whether you have
      done as we had agreed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Certainly; and, if you find me here&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars, placing his own hand over his shoulder, stopped him
      short.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think I know what brought you here,&#8221; he uttered; &#8220;and
      in a few moments I shall have ascertained.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I swear to you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t swear.&nbsp; If I am mistaken, so much the better for you.&nbsp;
      If I am not mistaken, I&rsquo;ll prove to you that it is dangerous to try any
      sharp game on me, though I am not a business-man.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime M. Latterman, seeing no customer coming to take the place of the
      one who had left, became impatient at last, and appeared upon the
      threshold of his private office.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was a man still young, small, thick-set, and vulgar.&nbsp; At the first
      glance, nothing of him could be seen but his abdomen,&#8212;a big, great,
      and ponderous abdomen, seat of his thoughts, and tabernacle of his
      aspirations, over which dangled a double gold chain, loaded with trinkets.&nbsp;
      Above an apoplectic neck, red as that of a turkey-cock, stood his little
      head, covered with coarse red hair, cut very short.&nbsp; He wore a heavy
      beard, trimmed in the form of a fan.&nbsp; His large, full-moon face was
      divided in two by a nose as flat as a Kalmuck&rsquo;s, and illuminated by two
      small eyes, in which could be read the most thorough duplicity.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seeing M. de Tregars and M. Costeclar engaged in conversation,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why! you know each other?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars advanced a step,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We are even intimate friends,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;And
      it is very lucky that we should have met.&nbsp; I am brought here by the
      same matter as our dear Costeclar; and I was just explaining to him that
      he has been too hasty, and that it would be best to wait three or four
      days longer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s just what I told him,&#8221; echoed the honorable financier.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence understood only one thing,&#8212;that M. de Tregars had penetrated
      M. Costeclar&rsquo;s designs; and he could not sufficiently admire his presence
      of mind, and his skill in grasping an unexpected opportunity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fortunately there is nothing done yet,&#8221; added M. Latterman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And it is yet time to alter what has been agreed on,&#8221; said M.
      de Tregars.&nbsp; And, addressing himself to Costeclar,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come,&#8221; he added, &#8220;we&rsquo;ll fix things with M. Latterman.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the other, who remembered the scene in the Rue St. Gilles, and who had
      his own reasons to be alarmed, would sooner have jumped out of the window.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am expected,&#8221; he stammered.&nbsp; &#8220;Arrange matters
      without me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you give me carte blanche?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Ah, if the brilliant financier had dared!&nbsp; But he felt upon him such
      threatening eyes, that he dared not even make a gesture of denial.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whatever you do will be satisfactory,&#8221; he said in the tone of
      a man who sees himself lost.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as he was going out of the door, M. de Tregars stepped into M.
      Latterman&rsquo;s private office.&nbsp; He remained only five minutes; and when
      he joined Maxence, whom he had begged to wait for him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think that we have got them,&#8221; he said as they walked off.
    </p>
    <p>
      Their next visit was to M. Saint Pavin, at the office of &#8220;The
      Financial Pilot.&#8221;&nbsp; Every one must have seen at least one copy
      of that paper with its ingenious vignette, representing a bold mariner
      steering a boat, filled with timid passengers, towards the harbor of
      Million, over a stormy sea, bristling with the rocks of failure and the
      shoals of ruin.&nbsp; The office of &#8220;The Pilot&#8221; is, in fact,
      less a newspaper office than a sort of general business agency.
    </p>
    <p>
      As at M. Latterman&rsquo;s, there are clerks scribbling behind wire screens,
      small windows, a cashier, and an immense blackboard, on which the latest
      quotations of the Rente, and other French and foreign securities, are
      written in chalk.
    </p>
    <p>
      As &#8220;The Pilot&#8221; spends some hundred thousand francs a year in
      advertising, in order to obtain subscribers; as, on the other hand, it
      only costs three francs a year,&#8212;it is clear that it is not on its
      subscriptions that it realizes any profits.&nbsp; It has other sources of
      income:&nbsp; its brokerages first; for it buys, sells, and executes, as
      the prospectus says, all orders for stocks, bonds, or other securities,
      for the best interests of the client.&nbsp; And it has plenty of business.
    </p>
    <p>
      To the opulent brokerages, must be added advertising and puffing, &#8212;another
      mine.&nbsp; Six times out of ten, when a new enterprise is set on foot,
      the organizers send for Saint Pavin.&nbsp; Honest men, or knaves, they
      must all pass through his hands.&nbsp; They know it, and are resigned in
      advance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We rely upon you,&#8221; they say to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What advantages have you to offer?&#8221; he replies.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then they discuss the operation, the expected profits of the new company,
      and M. Saint Pavin&rsquo;s demands.&nbsp; For a hundred thousand francs he
      promises bursts of lyrism; for fifty thousand he will be enthusiastic
      only.&nbsp; Twenty thousand francs will secure a moderate praise of the
      affair; ten thousand, a friendly neutrality.&nbsp; And, if the said
      company refuses any advantages to &#8220;The Pilot&#8221;&#8212;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, you must beware!&#8221; says Saint Pavin.
    </p>
    <p>
      And from the very next number he commences his campaign.&nbsp; He is
      moderate at first, and leaves a door open for his retreat.&nbsp; He puts
      forth doubts only.&nbsp; He does not know much about it.&nbsp; &#8220;It
      may be an excellent thing; it may be a wretched one:&nbsp; the safest is
      to wait and see.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That&rsquo;s the first hint.&nbsp; If it remains without result, he takes up his
      pen again, and makes his doubts more pointed.
    </p>
    <p>
      He knows how to steer clear of libel suits, how to handle figures so as to
      demonstrate, according to the requirements of the case, that two and two
      make three, or make five.&nbsp; It is seldom, that, before the third
      article, the company does not surrender at discretion.
    </p>
    <p>
      All Paris knows him; and he has many friends.&nbsp; When M. de Tregars and
      Maxence arrived, they found the office full of people &#8212;speculators,
      brokers, go-betweens&#8212;come there to discuss the fluctuations of the
      day and the probabilities of the evening market.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Saint Pavin is engaged,&#8221; one of the clerks told
      them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Indeed, his coarse voice could be distinctly heard behind the screen.&nbsp;
      Soon he appeared, showing out an old gentleman, who seemed utterly
      confused at the scene, and to whom he was screaming,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, sir, no!&nbsp; &#8216;The Financial Pilot&#8217; does not take
      that sort of business; and I find you very bold to come and propose to me
      a twopenny rascality.&#8221;&nbsp; But, noticing Maxence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Favoral!&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;By Jove! it is your
      good star that has brought you here.&nbsp; Come into the private office,
      my dear sir:&nbsp; come, we&rsquo;ll have some fun now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Many of the people who were in the office had a word to say to M. Saint
      Pavin, some advice to ask him, an order to transmit, or some news to
      communicate.&nbsp; They had all stepped forward, and were holding out
      their hands with a friendly smile.&nbsp; He set them aside with his usual
      rudeness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;By and by.&nbsp; I am busy now:&nbsp; leave me alone.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And pushing Maxence towards the office-door, which he had just opened,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come in, come in!&#8221; he said in a tone of extraordinary
      impatience.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars was coming in too; and, as he did not know him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you want, you?&#8221; he asked roughly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The gentleman is my best friend,&#8221; said Maxence, turning to
      him; &#8220;and I have no secret from him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let him walk in, then; but, by Heaven, let us hurry!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Once very sumptuous, the private office of the editor of &#8220;The
      Financial Pilot&#8221; had fallen into a state of sordid dilapidation.&nbsp;
      If the janitor had received orders never to use a broom or a duster there,
      he obeyed them strictly.&nbsp; Disorder and dirt reigned supreme.&nbsp;
      Papers and manuscripts lay in all directions; and on the broad sofas the
      mud from the boots of all those who had lounged upon them had been drying
      for months.&nbsp; On the mantel-piece, in the midst of some half-dozen
      dirty glasses, stood a bottle of Madeira, half empty.&nbsp; Finally,
      before the fireplace, on the carpet, and along the furniture, cigar and
      cigarette stumps were heaped in profusion.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as he had bolted the door, coming straight to Maxence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What has become of your father?&#8221; inquired M. Saint Pavin
      rudely.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence started.&nbsp; That was the last question he expected to hear.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I do not know,&#8221; he replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      The manager of &#8220;The Pilot&#8221; shrugged his shoulders.&nbsp;
      &#8220;That you should say so to the commissary of police, to the judges,
      and to all Favoral&rsquo;s enemies, I understand:&nbsp; it is your duty.&nbsp;
      That they should believe you, I understand too; for, after all, what do
      they care?&nbsp; But to me, a friend, though you may not think so, and who
      has reasons not to be credulous&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I swear to you that we have no idea where he has taken refuge.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence said this with such an accent of sincerity, that doubt was no
      longer possible.&nbsp; M. Saint Pavin&rsquo;s features expressed the utmost
      surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;your father has gone without
      securing the means of hearing from his family?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Without saying a word of his intentions to your mother, or your
      sister, or yourself?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Without one word.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Without leaving any money, perhaps?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We found only an insignificant sum after he left.&#8221;&nbsp; The
      editor of &#8220;The Pilot&#8221; made a gesture of ironical admiration.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Well, the thing is complete,&#8221; he said; &#8220;and Vincent is
      a smarter fellow than I gave him credit for; or else he must have cared
      more for those infernal women of his than any one supposed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars, who had remained hitherto silent, now stepped forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What women?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How do I know?&#8221; he replied roughly.&nbsp; &#8220;How could
      any one ever find out any thing about a man who was more hermetically shut
      up in his coat than a Jesuit in his gown?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M.&nbsp; Costeclar&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s another nice bird!&nbsp; Still he may possibly have
      discovered something of Vincent&rsquo;s life; for he led him a pretty dance.&nbsp;
      Wasn&rsquo;t he about to marry Mlle. Favoral once?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, in spite of herself even.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you are right:&nbsp; he had discovered something.&nbsp; But,
      if you rely on him to tell you anything whatever, you are reckoning
      without your host.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who knows?&#8221; murmured M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. Saint Pavin heard him not.&nbsp; Prey to a violent agitation, he
      was pacing up and down the room.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, those men of cold appearance,&#8221; he growled, &#8220;those
      men with discreet countenance, those close-shaving calculators, those
      moralists!&nbsp; What fools they do make of themselves when once started!&nbsp;
      Who can imagine to what insane extremities this one may have been driven
      under the spur of some mad passion!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And stamping violently his foot upon the carpet, from which arose clouds
      of dust,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; he swore, &#8220;I must find him.&nbsp; And, by
      thunder! wherever he may be hid, I shall find him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was watching M. Saint Pavin with a scrutinizing eye.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have a great interest in finding him, then?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      The other stopped short.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have the interest,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;of a man who thought
      himself shrewd, and who has been taken in like a child,&#8212;of a man to
      whom they had promised wonders, and who finds his situation imperilled,
      &#8212;of a man who is tired of working for a band of brigands who heap
      millions upon millions, and to whom, for all reward, they offer the
      police-court and a retreat in the State Prison for his old age, &#8212;in
      a word, the interests of a man who will and shall have revenge, by all
      that is holy!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;On whom?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;On the Baron de Thaller, sir!&nbsp; How, in the world, has he been
      able to compel Favoral to assume the responsibility of all, and to
      disappear?&nbsp; What enormous sum has he given to him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sir,&#8221; interrupted Maxence, &#8220;my father went off without
      a sou.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Saint Pavin burst out in a loud laugh.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And the twelve millions?&#8221; he asked.&nbsp; &#8220;What has
      become of them?&nbsp; Do you suppose they have been distributed in deeds
      of charity?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And without waiting for any further objections,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;it is not with money alone that
      a man can be induced to disgrace himself, to confess himself a thief and a
      forger, to brave the galleys, to give up everything,&#8212;country,
      family, friends.&nbsp; Evidently the Baron de Thaller must have had other
      means of action, some hold on Favoral&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars interrupted him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You speak,&#8221; he said, &#8220;as if you were absolutely certain
      of M. de Thaller&rsquo;s complicity.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why don&rsquo;t you inform on him, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The editor of &#8220;The Pilot&#8221; started back.&nbsp; &#8220;What!&#8221;
      he exclaimed, &#8220;draw the fingers of the law into my own business!&nbsp;
      You don&rsquo;t think of it!&nbsp; Besides, what good would that do me?&nbsp; I
      have no proofs of my allegations.&nbsp; Do you suppose that Thaller has
      not taken his precautions, and tied my hands?&nbsp; No, no! without
      Favoral there is nothing to be done.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you suppose, then, that you could induce him to surrender
      himself?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, but to furnish me the proofs I need, to send Thaller where they
      have already sent that poor Jottras.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, becoming more and more excited,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But it is not in a month that I should want those proofs,&#8221; he
      went on, &#8220;nor even in two weeks, but to-morrow, but at this very
      moment.&nbsp; Before the end of the week, Thaller will have wound up the
      operation, realized, Heaven knows how many millions, and put every thing
      in such nice order, that justice, who in financial matters is not of the
      first capacity, will discover nothing wrong.&nbsp; If he can do that, he
      is safe, he is beyond reach, and will be dubbed a first-class financier.&nbsp;
      Then to what may he not aspire!&nbsp; Already he talks of having himself
      elected deputy; and he says everywhere that he has found, to marry his
      daughter, a gentleman who bears one of the oldest names in France,&#8212;the
      Marquis de Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, this is the Marquis de Tregars!&#8221; exclaimed Maxence,
      pointing to Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time, M. Saint Pavin took the trouble to examine his
      visitor; and he, who knew life too well not to be a judge of men, he
      seemed surprised.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Please excuse me, sir,&#8221; he uttered with a politeness very
      different from his usual manner, &#8220;and permit me to ask you if you
      know the reasons why M. de Thaller is so prodigiously anxious to have you
      for a son-in-law.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think,&#8221; replied M. de Tregars coldly, &#8220;that M. de
      Thaller would not be sorry to deprive me of the right to seek the causes
      of my father&rsquo;s ruin.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But he was interrupted by a great noise of voices in the adjoining room;
      and almost at once there was a loud knock at the door, and a voice called,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In the name of the law!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The editor of &#8220;The Pilot&#8221; had become whiter than his shirt.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s what I was afraid of,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Thaller
      has got ahead of me; and perhaps I may be lost.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime he did not lose his wits.&nbsp; Quick as thought he took out of a
      drawer a package of letters, threw them into the fireplace, and set fire
      to them, saying, in a voice made hoarse by emotion and anger,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No one shall come in until they are burnt.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But it required an incredibly long time to make them catch fire; and M.
      Saint Pavin, kneeling before the hearth, was stirring them up, and
      scattering them, to make them burn faster.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And now,&#8221; said M. de Tregars, &#8220;will you hesitate to
      deliver up the Baron de Thaller into the hands of justice?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He turned around with flashing eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;if I wish to save myself, I must
      save him too.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t you understand that he holds me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, seeing that the last sheets of his correspondence were consumed,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You may open now,&#8221; he said to Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence obeyed; and a commissary of police, wearing his scarf of office,
      rushed into the room; whilst his men, not without difficulty, kept back
      the crowd in the outer office.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary, who was an old hand, and had perhaps been on a hundred
      expeditions of this kind, had surveyed the scene at a glance.&nbsp;
      Noticing in the fireplace the carbonized debris, upon which still
      fluttered an expiring flame,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s the reason, then,&#8221; he said, &#8220;why you were so
      long opening the door?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A sarcastic smile appeared upon the lips of the editor of &#8220;The
      Pilot.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Private matters,&#8221; he replied; &#8220;women&rsquo;s letters.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This will be moral evidence against you, sir.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I prefer it to material evidence.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Without condescending to notice the impertinence, the commissary was
      casting a suspicious glance on Maxence and M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who are these gentlemen who were closeted with you?&#8221; he
      asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Visitors, sir.&nbsp; This is M. Favoral.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The son of the cashier of the Mutual Credit?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Exactly; and this gentleman is the Marquis de Tregars.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You should have opened the door when you heard a knocking in the
      name of the law,&#8221; grumbled the commissary.
    </p>
    <p>
      But he did not insist.&nbsp; Taking a paper from his pocket, he opened it,
      and, handing it to M. Saint Pavin,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have orders to arrest you,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Here is
      the warrant.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a careless gesture, the other pushed it back.&nbsp; &#8220;What&rsquo;s the
      use of reading?&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;When I heard of the arrest of
      that poor Jottras, I guessed at once what was in store for me.&nbsp; It is
      about the Mutual Credit swindle, I imagine.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Exactly.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have no more to do with it than yourself, sir; and I shall have
      very little trouble in proving it.&nbsp; But that is not your business.&nbsp;
      And you are going, I suppose, to put the seals on my papers?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Except on those that you have burnt.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Saint Pavin burst out laughing.&nbsp; He had recovered his coolness and
      his impudence, and seemed as much at ease as if it were the most natural
      thing in the world.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Shall I be allowed to speak to my clerks,&#8221; he asked, &#8220;and
      to give them my instructions?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied the commissary, &#8220;but in my presence.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The clerks, being called, appeared, consternation depicted upon their
      countenances, but joy sparkling in their eyes.&nbsp; In reality they were
      delighted at the misfortune which befell their employer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see what happens to me, my boys,&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;But
      don&rsquo;t be uneasy.&nbsp; In less than forty-eight hours, the error of which
      I am the victim will be recognized, and I shall be liberated on bail.&nbsp;
      At any rate, I can rely upon you, can&rsquo;t I?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They all swore that they would be more attentive and more zealous than
      ever.
    </p>
    <p>
      And then addressing himself to his cashier, who was his confidential and
      right-hand man,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As to you, Bernard,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you will run to M. de
      Thaller&rsquo;s, and advise him of what&rsquo;s going on.&nbsp; Let him have funds
      ready; for all our depositors will want to draw out their money at once.&nbsp;
      You will then call at the printing-office:&nbsp; have my article on the
      Mutual Credit kept out, and insert in its place some financial news cut
      out from other papers.&nbsp; Above all, don&rsquo;t mention my arrest, unless M.
      de Thaller should demand it.&nbsp; Go ahead, and let &#8216;The Pilot&#8217;
      appear as usual:&nbsp; that&rsquo;s important.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He had, whilst speaking, lighted a cigar.&nbsp; The honest man, victim of
      human iniquity, has not a firmer and more tranquil countenance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Justice does not know,&#8221; he said to the commissary, who was
      fumbling in all the drawers of the desk, &#8220;what irreparable damage
      she may cause by arresting so hastily a man who has charge of immense
      interests like me.&nbsp; It is the fortune of ten or twelve small
      capitalists that is put in jeopardy.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Already the witnesses of the arrest had retired, one by one, to go and
      scatter the news along the Boulevard, and also to see what could be made
      out of it; for, at the bourse, news is money.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars and Maxence left also.&nbsp; As they passed the door,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t you say any thing about what I told you,&#8221; M. Saint
      Pavin recommended to them.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars made no answer.&nbsp; He had the contracted features and
      tightly-drawn lips of a man who is maturing a grave determination, which,
      once taken, will be irrevocable.
    </p>
    <p>
      Once in the street, and when Maxence had opened the carriage-door,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We are going to separate here,&#8221; he told him in that brief
      tone of voice which reveals a settled plan.&nbsp; &#8220;I know enough now
      to venture to call at M. de Thaller&rsquo;s.&nbsp; There only shall I be able to
      see how to strike the decisive blow.&nbsp; Return to the Rue St. Gilles,
      and relieve your mother&rsquo;s and sister&rsquo;s anxiety.&nbsp; You shall see me
      during the evening, I promise you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without waiting for an answer, he jumped into the cab, which started
      off.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was not to the Rue St. Gilles that Maxence went.&nbsp; He was
      anxious, first, to see Mlle. Lucienne, to tell her the events of that day,
      the busiest of his existence; to tell her his discoveries, his surprises,
      his anxieties, and his hopes.
    </p>
    <p>
      To his great surprise, he failed to find her at the Hotel des Folies.&nbsp;
      She had gone riding at three o&rsquo;clock, M. Fortin told him, and had not yet
      returned; but she could not be much longer, as it was already getting
      dark.&nbsp; Maxence went out again then, to see if he could not meet her.&nbsp;
      He had walked a little way along the Boulevard, when, at some distance
      off, on the Place du Chateau d&rsquo;Eau, he thought he noticed an unusual
      bustle.&nbsp; Almost immediately he heard shouts of terror.&nbsp;
      Frightened people were running in all directions; and right before him a
      carriage, going at full gallop, passed like a flash.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, quick as it had passed, he had time to recognize Mlle. Lucienne,
      pale, and clinging desperately to the seat.&nbsp; Wild with fear, he
      started after it as fast as he could run.&nbsp; It was clear that the
      driver had no control over his horses.&nbsp; A policeman who tried to stop
      them was knocked down.&nbsp; Ten steps farther, the hind-wheel of the
      carriage, catching the wheel of a heavy wagon, broke to splinters; and
      Mlle. Lucienne was thrown into the street, whilst the driver fell over on
      the sidewalk.
    </p>
    <h2>
      VI
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Baron de Thaller was too practical a man to live in the same house, or
      even in the same district, where his offices were located.&nbsp; To dwell
      in the midst of his business; to be constantly subjected to the contact of
      his employes, to the unkindly comments of a crowd of subordinates; to
      expose himself to hourly annoyances, to sickening solicitations, to the
      reclamations and eternal complaints of his stockholders and his clients!&nbsp;
      Pouah!&nbsp; He&rsquo;d have given up the business first.&nbsp; And so, on the
      very days when he had established the offices of the Mutual Credit in the
      Rue de Quatre-Septembre, he had purchased a house in the Rue de la
      Pepiniere within a step of the Faubourg St. Honore.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a brand-new house, which had never yet been occupied, and which had
      just been erected by a contractor who was almost celebrated, towards 1866,
      at the moment of the great transformations of Paris, when whole blocks
      were leveled to the ground, and rose again so rapidly, that one might well
      wonder whether the masons, instead of a trowel, did not make use of a
      magician&rsquo;s wand.
    </p>
    <p>
      This contractor, named Parcimieux, had come from the Limousin in 1860 with
      his carpenter&rsquo;s tools for all fortune, and, in less than six years, had
      accumulated, at the lowest estimate, six millions of francs.&nbsp; Only he
      was a modest man, and took as much pains to conceal his fortune, and
      offend no one, as most <i>parvenus</i> do to display their wealth, and
      insult the public.
    </p>
    <p>
      Though he could hardly sign his name, yet he knew and practised the maxim
      of the Greek philosopher, which is, perhaps, the true secret of happiness,&#8212;hide
      thy life.&nbsp; And there were no expedients to which he did not resort to
      hide it.&nbsp; At the time of his greatest prosperity, for instance,
      having need of a carriage, he had applied to the manager of the Petites
      Voitures Company, and had had built for himself two cabs, outwardly
      similar in every respect to those used by the company, but within, most
      luxuriously upholstered, and drawn by horses of common appearance, but who
      could go their twenty-five miles in two hours any day.&nbsp; And these he
      had hired by the year.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having his carriage, the worthy builder determined to have, also, his
      house, his own house, built by himself.&nbsp; But this required infinitely
      greater precautions still.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For, as you may imagine,&#8221; he explained to his friends,
      &#8220;a man does not make as much money as I have, without also making
      many cruel, bitter, and irreconcilable enemies.&nbsp; I have against me
      all the builders who have not succeeded, all the sub-contractors I employ,
      and who say that I speculate on their poverty, and the thousands of
      workmen who work for me, and swear that I grind them down to the dust.&nbsp;
      Already they call me brigand, slaver, thief, leech.&nbsp; What would it
      be, if they saw me living in a beautiful house of my own?&nbsp; They&rsquo;d
      swear that I could not possibly have got so rich honestly, and that I must
      have committed some crimes.&nbsp; Besides, to build me a handsome house on
      the street would be, in case of a mob, setting up windows for the stones
      of all the rascals who have been in my employment.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Such were M. Parcimieux&rsquo;s thoughts, when, as he expressed it, he resolved
      to build.
    </p>
    <p>
      A lot was for sale in the Rue de la Pepiniere.&nbsp; He bought it, and at
      the same time purchased the adjoining house, which he immediately caused
      to be torn down.&nbsp; This operation placed in his possession a vast
      piece of ground, not very wide, but of great depth, stretching, as it did,
      back to the Rue Labaume.&nbsp; At once work was begun according to a plan
      which his architect and himself had spent six months in maturing.&nbsp; On
      the line of the street arose a house of the most modest appearance, two
      stories in height only, with a very high and very wide carriage-door for
      the passage of vehicles.&nbsp; This was to deceive the vulgar eye,&#8212;the
      outside of the cab, as it were.&nbsp; Behind this house, between a
      spacious court and a vast garden was built the residence of which M.
      Parcimieux had dreamed; and it really was an exceptional building both by
      the excellence of the materials used, and by the infinite care which
      presided over the minutest details.&nbsp; The marbles for the vestibule
      and the stairs were brought from Africa, Italy, and Corsica.&nbsp; He sent
      to Rome for workmen for the mosaics.&nbsp; The joiner and locksmithing
      work was intrusted to real artists.
    </p>
    <p>
      Repeating to every one that he was working for a great foreign lord, whose
      orders he went to take every morning, he was free to indulge his most
      extravagant fancies, without fearing jests or unpleasant remarks.
    </p>
    <p>
      Poor old man!&nbsp; The day when the last workman had driven in the last
      nail, an attack of apoplexy carried him off, without giving him time to
      say, &#8220;Oh!&#8221;&nbsp; Two days after, all his relatives from the
      Limousin were swooping into Paris like a pack of wolves.&nbsp; Six
      millions to divide:&nbsp; what a godsend!&nbsp; Litigation followed, as a
      matter of course; and the house was offered for sale under a judgment.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Thaller bought it for two hundred and seventy-five thousand francs,&#8212;about
      one-third what it had cost to build.
    </p>
    <p>
      A month later he had moved into it; and the expenses which he incurred to
      furnish it in a style worthy of the building itself was the talk of the
      town.&nbsp; And yet he was not fully satisfied with his purchase.
    </p>
    <p>
      Unlike M. Parcimieux, he had no wish whatever to conceal his wealth.
    </p>
    <p>
      What! he owned one of those exquisite houses which excite at once the
      wonder and the envy of passers-by, and that house was hid behind such a
      common-looking building!
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must have that shanty pulled down,&#8221; he said from time to
      time.
    </p>
    <p>
      And then he thought of something else; and the &#8220;shanty&#8221; was
      still standing on that evening, when, after leaving Maxence, M. de Tregars
      presented himself at M. de Thaller&rsquo;s.
    </p>
    <p>
      The servants had, doubtless, received their instructions; for, as soon as
      Marius emerged from the porch of the front-house, the porter advanced from
      his lodge, bent double, his mouth open to his very ears by the most
      obsequious smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      Without waiting for a question,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The baron has not yet come home&#8212;,&#8221; he said.&nbsp;
      &#8220;But he cannot be much longer away; and certainly the baroness is at
      home for my lord-marquis.&nbsp; Please, then, give yourself the trouble to
      pass.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, standing aside, he struck upon the enormous gong that stood near his
      lodge a single sharp blow, intended to wake up the footman on duty in the
      vestibule, and to announce a visitor of note.&nbsp; Slowly, but not
      without quietly observing every thing, M. de Tregars crossed the
      courtyard, covered with fine sand,&#8212;they would have powdered it with
      golden dust, if they had dared,&#8212;and surrounded on all sides with
      bronze baskets, in which beautiful rhododendrons were blossoming.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was nearly six o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; The manager of the Mutual Credit dined at
      seven; and the preparations for this important event were everywhere
      apparent.&nbsp; Through the large windows of the dining-room the steward
      could be seen presiding over the setting of the table.&nbsp; The butler
      was coming up from the cellar, loaded with bottles.&nbsp; Finally, through
      the apertures of the basement arose the appetizing perfumes of the
      kitchen.
    </p>
    <p>
      What enormous business it required to support such a style, to display
      this luxury, which would shame one of those German princelings, who
      exchanged the crown of their ancestors for a Prussian livery gilded with
      French gold!&#8212;other people&rsquo;s money.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, the blow struck by the porter on the gong had produced the
      desired effect; and the gates of the vestibule seemed to open of their own
      accord before M. de Tregars as he ascended the stoop.
    </p>
    <p>
      This vestibule with the splendor of which Mlle. Lucienne had been so
      deeply impressed, would, indeed, have been worthy the attention of an
      artist, had it been allowed to retain the simple grandeur and the severe
      harmony which M. Parcimieux&rsquo;s architect had imparted to it.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Thaller, as he was proud of boasting, had a perfect horror of
      simplicity; and, wherever he discovered a vacant space as big as his hand,
      he hung a picture, a bronze, or a piece of china, any thing and anyhow.
    </p>
    <p>
      The two footmen were standing when M. de Tregars came in.&nbsp; Without
      asking any question, &#8220;Will M. le Marquis please follow me?&#8221;
      said the youngest.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, opening the broad glass doors, he began walking in front of M. de
      Tregars, along a staircase with marble railing, the elegant proportions of
      which were absolutely ruined by a ridiculous profusion of &#8220;objects
      of art&#8221; of all nature, and from all sources.&nbsp; This staircase
      led to a vast semicircular landing, upon which, between columns of
      precious marble, opened three wide doors.&nbsp; The footman opened the
      middle one, which led to M. de Thaller&rsquo;s picture-gallery, a celebrated one
      in the financial world, and which had acquired for him the reputation of
      an enlightened amateur.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars had no time to examine this gallery, which, moreover, he
      already knew well enough.&nbsp; The footman showed him into the small
      drawing-room of the baroness, a bijou of a room, furnished in gilt and
      crimson satin.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Will M. le Marquis be kind enough to take a seat?&#8221; he said.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I run to notify Mme. le Baronne of M. le Marquis&rsquo;s visit.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The footman uttered these titles of nobility with a singular pomp, and as
      if some of their lustre was reflected upon himself.&nbsp; Nevertheless, it
      was evident that &#8220;Marquis&#8221; jingled to his ear much more
      pleasantly than &#8220;Baronne.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Remaining alone, M. de Tregars threw himself upon a seat.&nbsp; Worn out
      by the emotions of the day, and by an extraordinary contention of mind, he
      felt thankful for this moment of respite, which permitted him, at the
      moment of a decisive step, to collect all his energy and all his presence
      of mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      And after two minutes he was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts, that he
      started, like a man suddenly aroused from his sleep, at the sound of an
      opening door.&nbsp; At the same moment he heard a slight exclamation of
      surprise, &#8220;Ah!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Instead of the Baroness de Thaller, it was her daughter, Mlle. Cesarine,
      who had come in.
    </p>
    <p>
      Stepping forward to the centre of the room, and acknowledging by a
      familiar gesture M. de Tregars&rsquo; most respectful bow,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You should warn people,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;I came here
      to look for my mother, and it is you I find.&nbsp; Why, you scared me to
      death.&nbsp; What a crack!&nbsp; Princess dear!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And taking the young man&rsquo;s hand, and pressing it to her breast,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Feel,&#8221; she added, &#8220;how my heart beats.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Younger than Mlle. Gilberte, Mlle. Cesarine de Thaller had a reputation
      for beauty so thoroughly established, that to call it in question would
      have seemed a crime to her numerous admirers.&nbsp; And really she was a
      handsome person.&nbsp; Rather tall and well made, she had broad hips, the
      waist round and supple as a steel rod, and a magnificent throat.&nbsp; Her
      neck was, perhaps, a little too thick and too short; but upon her robust
      shoulders was scattered in wild ringlets the rebellious hair that escaped
      from her comb.&nbsp; She was a blonde, but of that reddish blonde, almost
      as dark as mahogany, which Titian admired, and which the handsome
      Venetians obtained by means of rather repulsive practices, and by exposing
      themselves to the noonday sun on the terraces of their palaces.&nbsp; Her
      complexion had the gilded hues of amber.&nbsp; Her lips, red as blood,
      displayed as they opened, teeth of dazzling whiteness.&nbsp; In her large
      prominent eyes, of a milky blue, like the Northern skies, laughed the
      eternal irony of a soul that no longer has faith in any thing.&nbsp; More
      anxious of her fame than of good taste, she wore a dress of doubtful
      shade, puffed up by means of an extravagant pannier, and buttoned
      obliquely across the chest, according to that ridiculous and ungraceful
      style invented by flat or humped women.
    </p>
    <p>
      Throwing herself upon a chair, and placing cavalierly one foot upon
      another, so as to display her leg, which was admirable,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know that it&rsquo;s perfectly stunning to see you here?&#8221;
      she said to M. de Tregars.&nbsp; &#8220;Just imagine, for a moment, what a
      face the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight will make when he sees you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was her father whom she called thus, since the day when she had
      discovered that there was a German coin called thaler, which represents
      three francs and sixty-eight centimes in French currency.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know, I suppose,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;that papa has just
      been badly stuck?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was excusing himself in vague terms; but it was one of Mlle.
      Cesarine&rsquo;s habits never to listen to the answers which were made to her
      questions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Favoral,&#8221; she continued, &#8220;papa&rsquo;s cashier, has just
      started on an international picnic.&nbsp; Did you know him?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very little.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;An old fellow, always dressed like a country sexton, and with a
      face like an undertaker.&nbsp; And the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight, an
      old bird, was fool enough to be taken in by him!&nbsp; For he was taken
      in.&nbsp; He had a face like a man whose chimney is on fire, when he came
      to tell us, mamma and myself, that Favoral had gone off with twelve
      millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And has he really carried off that enormous sum?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not entire, of course, because it was not since day before
      yesterday only that he began digging into the Mutual Credit&rsquo;s pile.&nbsp;
      There were years that this venerable old swell was leading a
      somewhat-variegated existence, in company with rather-funny ladies, you
      know.&nbsp; And as he was not exactly calculated to be adored at par, why,
      it cost papa&rsquo;s stockholders a pretty lively premium.&nbsp; But, anyhow, he
      must have carried off a handsome nugget.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, bouncing to the piano, she began an accompaniment loud enough to
      crack the window-panes, singing at the same time the popular refrain of
      the &#8220;Young Ladies of Pautin&#8221;:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        Cashier, you&rsquo;ve got the bag; <br /> Quick on your little nag, <br /> And
        then, ho, ho, for Belgium!
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      Any one but Marius de Tregars would have been doubtless strangely
      surprised at Mlle. de Thaller&rsquo;s manners.&nbsp; But he had known her for
      some time already:&nbsp; he was familiar with her past life, her habits,
      her tastes, and her pretensions.&nbsp; Until the age of fifteen, Mlle.
      Cesarine had remained shut up in one of those pleasant Parisian
      boarding-schools, where young ladies are initiated into the great art of
      the toilet, and from which they emerge armed with the gayest theories,
      knowing how to see without seeming to look, and to lie boldly without
      blushing; in a word, ripe for society.&nbsp; The directress of the
      boarding-school, a lady of the ton, who had met with reverses, and who was
      a good deal more of a dressmaker than a teacher, said of Mlle. Cesarine,
      who paid her three thousand five hundred francs a year,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She gives the greatest hopes for the future; and I shall certainly
      make a superior woman of her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the opportunity was not allowed her.&nbsp; The Baroness de Thaller
      discovered, one morning, that it was impossible for her to live without
      her daughter, and that her maternal heart was lacerated by a separation
      which was against the sacred laws of nature.&nbsp; She took her home,
      therefore, declaring that nothing, henceforth, not even her marriage,
      should separate them, and that she should finish herself the education of
      the dear child.&nbsp; From that moment, in fact, whoever saw the Baroness
      de Thaller would also see Mlle. Cesarine following in her wake.
    </p>
    <p>
      A girl of fifteen, discreet and well-trained, is a convenient chaperon; a
      chaperon which enables a woman to show herself boldly where she might not
      have dared to venture alone.&nbsp; In presence of a mother followed by her
      daughter, disconcerted slander hesitates, and dares not speak.
    </p>
    <p>
      Under the pretext that Cesarine was still but a child and of no
      consequence, Mme. de Thaller dragged her everywhere,&#8212;to the bois and
      to the races, visiting and shopping, to balls and parties, to the
      watering-places and the seashore, to the restaurant, and to all the
      &#8220;first nights&#8221; at the Palais Royal, the Bouffes, the Varietes,
      and the Delassements.&nbsp; It was, therefore, especially at the theatre,
      that the education of Mlle. de Thaller, so happily commenced, had received
      the finishing touch.&nbsp; At sixteen she was thoroughly familiar with the
      repertoire of the genre theatres, imitated Schneider far better than ever
      did Silly, and sang with surprising intonations and astonishing gestures
      Blanche d&rsquo;Autigny&rsquo;s successful moods, and Theresa&rsquo;s most wanton verses.
    </p>
    <p>
      Between times, she studied the fashion papers, and formed her style in
      reading the &#8220;Vie Parisienne,&#8221; whose most enigmatic articles
      had no allusions sufficiently obscure to escape her penetration.
    </p>
    <p>
      She learned to ride on horseback, to fence and to shoot, and distinguished
      herself at pigeon-matches.&nbsp; She kept a betting-book, played Trente et
      Quarante at Monaco; and Baccarat had no secrets for her.&nbsp; At
      Trouville she astonished the natives with the startling novelty of her
      bathing-costumes; and, when she found herself the centre of a reasonable
      circle of lookers-on, she threw herself in the water with a pluck that
      drew upon her the applause of the bathing-masters.&nbsp; She could smoke a
      cigarette, empty nearly a glass of champagne; and once her mother was
      obliged to bring her home, and put her quick to bed, because she had
      insisted upon trying absinthe, and her conversation had become somewhat
      too eccentric.
    </p>
    <p>
      Leading such a life, it was difficult that public opinion should always
      spare Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller.&nbsp; There were sceptics who insinuated
      that this steadfast friendship between mother and daughter had very much
      the appearance of the association of two women bound together by the
      complicity of a common secret.&nbsp; A broker told how, one evening, or
      one night rather, for it was nearly two o&rsquo;clock, happening to pass in
      front of the Moulin-Rouge, he had seen the Baroness and Mlle. Cesarine
      coming out, accompanied by a gentleman, to him unknown, but who, he was
      quite sure, was not the Baron de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      A certain journey which mother and daughter had undertaken in the heart of
      the winter, and which had lasted not less than two months, had been
      generally attributed to an imprudence, the consequences of which it had
      become impossible to conceal.&nbsp; They had been in Italy, they said when
      they returned; but no one had seen them there.&nbsp; Yet, as Mme. and
      Mlle. de Thaller&rsquo;s mode of life was, after all, the same as that of a
      great many women who passed for being perfectly proper, as there was no
      positive or palpable fact brought against them, as no name was mentioned,
      many people shrugged their shoulders, and replied,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Pure slanders.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And why not, since the Baron de Thaller, the most interested party, held
      himself satisfied?
    </p>
    <p>
      To the ill-advised friends who ventured some allusions to the public
      rumors, he replied, according to his humor,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My daughter can play the mischief generally, if she sees fit.&nbsp;
      As I shall give a dowry of a million, she will always find a husband.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Or else, &#8220;And what of it?&nbsp; Do not American young ladies enjoy
      unlimited freedom?&nbsp; Are they not constantly seen going out with young
      gentlemen, or walking or traveling alone?&nbsp; Are they, for all that,
      less virtuous than our girls, who are kept under such close watch?&nbsp;
      Do they make less faithful wives, or less excellent mothers?&nbsp;
      Hypocrisy is not virtue.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To a certain extent, the Manager of the Mutual Credit was right.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already Mlle. de Thaller had had to decide upon several quite suitable
      offers of marriage and she had squarely refused them all.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A husband!&#8221; she had answered each time.&nbsp; &#8220;Thank
      you, none for me.&nbsp; I have good enough teeth to eat up my dowry
      myself.&nbsp; Later, we&rsquo;ll see,&#8212;when I&rsquo;ve cut my wisdom teeth, and I
      am tired of my bachelor life.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She did not seem near getting tired of it, though she pretended that she
      had no more illusions, was thoroughly blasee, had exhausted every
      sensation, and that life henceforth had no surprise in reserve for her.&nbsp;
      Her reception of M. de Tregars was, therefore, one of Mlle. Cesarine&rsquo;s
      least eccentricities, as was also that sudden fancy; to apply to the
      situation one of the most idiotic rondos of her repertoires:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;Cashier, you&rsquo;ve got the bag; <br /> Quick on your little nag&#8221;
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      Neither did she spare him a single verse:&nbsp; and, when she stopped,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I see with pleasure,&#8221; said M. de Tregars, &#8220;that the
      embezzlement of which your father has just been the victim does not in any
      way offend your good humor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shrugged her shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would you have me cry,&#8221; she said, &#8220;because the
      stockholders of the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight have been swindled?&nbsp;
      Console yourself:&nbsp; they are accustomed to it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as M. de Tregars made no answer,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And in all that,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;I see no one to pity
      except the wife and daughter of that old stick Favoral.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They are, indeed, much to be pitied.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They say that the mother is a good old thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is an excellent person.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And the daughter?&nbsp; Costeclar was crazy about her once.&nbsp;
      He made eyes like a carp in love, as he told us, to mamma and myself,
      &#8216;She is an angel, mesdames, an angel!&nbsp; And when I have given
      her a little chic!&#8217;&nbsp; Now tell me, is she really as good looking
      as all that?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She is quite good looking.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Better looking than me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not the same style, mademoiselle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. de Thaller had stopped singing; but she had not left the piano.&nbsp;
      Half turned towards M. de Tregars, she ran her fingers listlessly over the
      keys, striking a note here and there, as if to punctuate her sentences.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, how nice!&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;and, above all, how
      gallant!&nbsp; Really, if you venture often on such declarations, mothers
      would be very wrong to trust you alone with their daughters.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You did not understand me right, mademoiselle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perfectly right, on the contrary.&nbsp; I asked you if I was better
      looking than Mlle. Favoral; and you replied to me, that it was not the
      same style.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is because, mademoiselle, there is indeed no possible comparison
      between you, who are a wealthy heiress, and whose life is a perpetual
      enchantment, and a poor girl, very humble, and very modest, who rides in
      the omnibus, and who makes her dresses herself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A contemptuous smile contracted Mlle. Cesarine&rsquo;s lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why not?&#8221; she interrupted.&nbsp; &#8220;Men have such funny
      tastes!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, turning around suddenly, she began another rondo, no less famous than
      the first, and borrowed, this time, from the third act of the
      Petites-Blanchisseuses:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;What matters the quality?&nbsp; <br /> Beauty alone takes the
        prize <br /> Women before man must rise, <br /> And claim perfect
        equality.&#8221;
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      Very attentively M. de Tregars was observing her.&nbsp; He had not been
      the dupe of the great surprise she had manifested when she found him in
      the little parlor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She knew I was here,&#8221; he thought; &#8220;and it is her mother
      who has sent her to me.&nbsp; But why? and for what purpose?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;With all that,&#8221; she resumed, &#8220;I see the sweet Mme.
      Favoral and her modest daughter in a terribly tight place.&nbsp; What a
      &#8216;bust,&#8217; marquis!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They have a great deal of courage, mademoiselle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Naturally.&nbsp; But, what is better, the daughter has a splendid
      voice:&nbsp; at least, so her professor told Costeclar.&nbsp; Why should
      she not go on the stage?&nbsp; Actresses make lots of money, you know.&nbsp;
      Papa&rsquo;ll help her, if she wishes.&nbsp; He has a great deal of influence in
      the theatres, papa has.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mme. and Mlle. Favoral have friends.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, yes!&nbsp; Costeclar.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Others besides.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg your pardon; but it seems to me that this one will do to
      begin with.&nbsp; He is gallant, Costeclar, extremely gallant, and,
      moreover, generous as a lord.&nbsp; Why should he not offer to that
      youthful and timid damsel a nice little position in mahogany and rosewood?&nbsp;
      That way, we should have the pleasure of meeting her around the lake.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she began singing again, with a slight variation,
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p>
        &#8220;Manon, who, before the war, <br /> Carried clothes for a living,
        <br /> Now for her gains is trusting <br /> To that insane Costeclar.&#8221;
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, that big red-headed girl is terribly provoking!&#8221; thought
      M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, as he did not as yet understand very clearly what she wished to come
      to, he kept on his guard, and remained cold as marble.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already she had again turned towards him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a face you are making!&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Are you
      jealous of the fiery Costeclar, by chance?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, mademoiselle, no!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then, why don&rsquo;t you want him to succeed in his love?&nbsp; But he
      will, you&rsquo;ll see!&nbsp; Five hundred francs on Costeclar!&nbsp; Do you
      take it?&nbsp; No?&nbsp; I am sorry.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s twenty-five napoleons lost
      for me.&nbsp; I know very well that Mlle.&#8212;what&rsquo;s her name?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Gilberte.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Hallo! a nice name for a cashier&rsquo;s daughter!&nbsp; I am aware that
      she once sent that poor Costeclar and his offer to&#8212;Chaillot.&nbsp;
      But she had resources then; whilst now&#8212;It&rsquo;s stupid as it can be; but
      people have to eat!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There are still women, mademoiselle, capable of starving to death.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars now felt satisfied.&nbsp; It seemed evident to him that they
      had somehow got wind of his intentions; that Mlle. de Thaller had been
      sent to feel the ground; and that she only attacked Mlle. Gilberte in
      order to irritate him, and compel him, in a moment of anger, to declare
      himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&#8221; she said, &#8220;Mlle. Favoral is like all the others.&nbsp;
      If she had to select between the amiable Costeclar and a charcoal furnace,
      it is not the furnace she would take.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At all times, Marius de Tregars disliked Mlle. Cesarine to a supreme
      degree; but at this moment, without the pressing desire he had to see the
      Baron and Baroness de Thaller, he would have withdrawn.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Believe me, mademoiselle,&#8221; he uttered coldly.&nbsp; &#8220;Spare
      a poor girl stricken by a most cruel misfortune.&nbsp; Worse might happen
      to you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To me!&nbsp; And what the mischief do you suppose can happen me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who knows?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She started to her feet so violently, that she upset the piano-stool.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whatever it may be,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;I say in advance,
      I am glad!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And as M. de Tregars turned his head in some surprise,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I am glad!&#8221; she repeated, &#8220;because it would be a
      change; and I am sick of the life I lead.&nbsp; Yes, sick to be eternally
      and invariably happy of that same dreary happiness.&nbsp; And to think
      that there are idiots who believe that I amuse myself, and who envy my
      fate!&nbsp; To think, that, when I ride through the streets, I hear girls
      exclaim, whilst looking at me, &#8216;Isn&rsquo;t she lucky?&#8217;&nbsp; Little
      fools!&nbsp; I&rsquo;d like to see them in my place.&nbsp; They live, they do.&nbsp;
      Their pleasures are not all alike.&nbsp; They have anxieties and hopes,
      ups and downs, hours of rain and hours of sunshine; whilst I&#8212;always
      dead calm! the barometer always at &#8216;Set fair.&#8217;&nbsp; What a
      bore!&nbsp; Do you know what I did to-day?&nbsp; Exactly the same thing as
      yesterday; and to-morrow I&rsquo;ll do the same thing as to-day.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A good dinner is a good thing; but always the same dinner, without
      extras or additions&#8212;pouah!&nbsp; Too many truffles.&nbsp; I want
      some corned beef and cabbage.&nbsp; I know the bill of fare by heart, you
      see.&nbsp; In winter, theatres and balls; in summer, races and the
      seashore; summer and winter, shopping, rides to the bois, calls, trying
      dresses, perpetual adoration by mother&rsquo;s friends, all of them brilliant
      and gallant fellows to whom the mere thought of my dowry gives the
      jaundice.&nbsp; Excuse me, if I yawn:&nbsp; I am thinking of their
      conversations.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And to think,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;that such will be my
      existence until I make up my mind to take a husband!&nbsp; For I&rsquo;ll have
      to come to it too.&nbsp; The Baron Three Sixty-eight will present to me
      some sort of a swell, attracted by my money.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll answer, &#8216;I&rsquo;d
      just as soon have him as any other,&#8217; and he will be admitted to the
      honor of paying his attentions to me.&nbsp; Every morning he will send me
      a splendid bouquet:&nbsp; every evening, after bank-hours, he&rsquo;ll come
      along with fresh kid gloves and a white vest.&nbsp; During the afternoon,
      he and papa will pull each other&rsquo;s hair out on the subject of the dowry.&nbsp;
      At last the happy day will arrive.&nbsp; Can&rsquo;t you see it from here?&nbsp;
      Mass with music, dinner, ball.&nbsp; The Baron Three Sixty-eight will not
      spare me a single ceremony.&nbsp; The marriage of the manager of the
      Mutual Credit must certainly be an advertisement.&nbsp; The papers will
      publish the names of the bridesmaids and of the guests.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To be sure, papa will have a face a yard long; because he will have
      been compelled to pay the dowry the day before.&nbsp; Mamma will be all
      upset at the idea of becoming a grandmother.&nbsp; The bridegroom will be
      in a wretched humor, because his boots will be too tight; and I&rsquo;ll look
      like a goose, because I&rsquo;ll be dressed in white; and white is a stupid
      color, which is not at all becoming to me.&nbsp; Charming family
      gathering, isn&rsquo;t it?&nbsp; Two weeks later, my husband will be sick of me,
      and I&rsquo;ll be disgusted with him.&nbsp; After a month, we&rsquo;ll be at daggers&rsquo;
      points.&nbsp; He&rsquo;ll go back to his club and his mistresses; and I&#8212;I
      shall have conquered the right to go out alone; and I&rsquo;ll begin again going
      to the bois, to balls, to races, wherever my mother goes.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll spend
      an enormous amount of money on my dress, and I&rsquo;ll make debts which papa
      will pay.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Though any thing might be expected of Mlle. Cesarine, still M. de Tregars
      seemed visibly astonished.&nbsp; And she, laughing at his surprise,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s the invariable programme,&#8221; she went on; &#8220;and
      that&rsquo;s why I say I&rsquo;m glad at the idea of a change, whatever it may be.&nbsp;
      You find fault with me for not pitying Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; How could I,
      since I envy her?&nbsp; She is happy, because her future is not settled,
      laid out, fixed in advance.&nbsp; She is poor; but she is free.&nbsp; She
      is twenty; she is pretty; she has an admirable voice; she can go on the
      stage to-morrow, and be, before six months, one of the pet actresses of
      Paris.&nbsp; What a life then!&nbsp; Ah, that is the one I dream, the one
      I would have selected, had I been mistress of my destiny.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But she was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Baroness de Thaller appeared.&nbsp; As she was, immediately after
      dinner, to go to the opera, and afterwards to a party given by the
      Viscountess de Bois d&rsquo;Ardon, she was in full dress.&nbsp; She wore a
      dress, cut audaciously low in the neck, of very light gray satin, trimmed
      with bands of cherry-colored silk edged with lace.&nbsp; In her hair, worn
      high over her head, she had a bunch of fuchsias, the flexible stems of
      which, fastened by a large diamond star, trailed down to her very
      shoulders, white and smooth as marble.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, though she forced herself to smile, her countenance was not that of
      festive days; and the glance which she cast upon her daughter and Marius
      de Tregars was laden with threats.&nbsp; In a voice of which she tried in
      vain to control the emotion,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How very kind of you, marquis,&#8221; she began, &#8220;to respond
      so soon to my invitation of this morning!&nbsp; I am really distressed to
      have kept you waiting; but I was dressing.&nbsp; After what has happened
      to M. de Thaller, it is absolutely indispensable that I should go out,
      show myself:&nbsp; otherwise our enemies will be going around to-morrow,
      saying everywhere that I am in Belgium, preparing lodgings for my husband.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, suddenly changing her tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But what was that madcap Cesarine telling you?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was with a profound surprise that M. de Tregars discovered that the
      entente cordiale which he suspected between the mother and daughter did
      not exist, at least at this moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      Veiling under a jesting tone the strange conjectures which the unexpected
      discovery aroused within him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mlle. Cesarine,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;who is much to be pitied,
      was telling me all her troubles.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She interrupted him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not take the trouble to tell a story, M. le Marquis,&#8221; she
      said.&nbsp; &#8220;Mamma knows it as well as yourself; for she was
      listening at the door.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Cesarine!&#8221; exclaimed Mme. de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, if she came in so suddenly, it is because she thought it was
      fully time to cut short my confidences.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The face of the baroness became crimson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The child is mad!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      The child burst out laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s my way,&#8221; she went on.&nbsp; &#8220;You should not have
      sent me here by chance, and against my wish.&nbsp; You made me do it:&nbsp;
      don&rsquo;t complain.&nbsp; You were sure that I had but to appear, and M. de
      Tregars would fall at my feet.&nbsp; I appeared, and&#8212;you saw the
      effect through the keyhole, didn&rsquo;t you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Her features contracted, her eyes flashing, twisting her lace handkerchief
      between her fingers loaded with rings,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is unheard of,&#8221; said Mme. de Thaller.&nbsp; &#8220;She has
      certainly lost her head.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Dropping her mother an ironical courtesy,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thanks for the compliment!&#8221; said the young lady.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Unfortunately, I never was more completely in possession of all the
      good sense I may boast of than I am now, dear mamma.&nbsp; What were you
      telling me a moment since?&nbsp; &#8216;Run, the Marquis de Tregars is
      coming to ask your hand:&nbsp; it&rsquo;s all settled.&#8217;&nbsp; And what did
      I answer?&nbsp; &#8216;No use to trouble myself:&nbsp; if, instead of one
      million, papa were to give me two, four millions, indeed all the millions
      paid by France to Prussia, M. de Tregars would not have me for a wife.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, looking Marius straight in the face,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Am I not right, M. le Marquis?&#8221; she asked.&nbsp; &#8220;And
      isn&rsquo;t it a fact that you wouldn&rsquo;t have me at any price?&nbsp; Come, now,
      your hand upon your heart, answer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars&rsquo; situation was somewhat embarrassing between these two
      women, whose anger was equal, though it manifested itself in a different
      way.&nbsp; Evidently it was a discussion begun before, which was now
      continued in his presence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think, mademoiselle,&#8221; he began, &#8220;that you have been
      slandering yourself gratuitously.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, no!&nbsp; I swear it to you,&#8221; she replied; &#8220;and, if
      mamma had not happened in, you would have heard much more.&nbsp; But that
      was not an answer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as M. de Tregars said nothing, she turned towards the baroness,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, ah! you see,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Who was crazy,&#8212;you,
      or I?&nbsp; Ah! you imagine here that money is everything, that every
      thing is for sale, and that every thing can be bought.&nbsp; Well, no!&nbsp;
      There are still men, who, for all the gold in the world, would not give
      their name to Cesarine de Thaller.&nbsp; It is strange; but it is so, dear
      mamma, and we must make up our mind to it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then turning towards Marius, and bearing upon each syllable, as if afraid
      that the allusion might escape him,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The men of whom I speak,&#8221; she added, &#8220;marry the girls
      who can starve to death.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Knowing her daughter well enough to be aware that she could not impose
      silence upon her, the Baroness de Thaller had dropped upon a chair.&nbsp;
      She was trying hard to appear indifferent to what her daughter was saying;
      but at every moment a threatening gesture, or a hoarse exclamation,
      betrayed the storm that raged within her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go on, poor foolish child!&#8221; she said,&#8212;&#8220;go on!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she did go on.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Finally, were M. de Tregars willing to have me, I would refuse him
      myself, because, then&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A fugitive blush colored her cheeks, her bold eyes vacillated, and,
      dropping her voice,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because, then,&#8221; she added, &#8220;he would no longer be what
      he is; because I feel that fatally I shall despise the husband whom papa
      will buy for me.&nbsp; And, if I came here to expose myself to an affront
      which I foresaw, it is because I wanted to make sure of a fact of which a
      word of Costeclar, a few days ago, had given me an idea, &#8212;of a fact
      which you do not, perhaps, suspect, dear mother, despite your astonishing
      perspicacity.&nbsp; I wanted to find out M. de Tregars&rsquo; secret; and I have
      found it out.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had come to the Thaller mansion with a plan well settled in
      advance.&nbsp; He had pondered long before deciding what he would do, and
      what he would say, and how he would begin the decisive struggle.&nbsp;
      What had taken place showed him the idleness of his conjectures, and, as a
      natural consequence, upset his plans.&nbsp; To abandon himself to the
      chances of the hour, and to make the best possible use of them, was now
      the wisest thing to do.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Give me credit, mademoiselle,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;for
      sufficient penetration to have perfectly well discerned your intentions.&nbsp;
      There was no need of artifice, because I have nothing to conceal.&nbsp;
      You had but to question me, I would have answered you frankly, &#8216;Yes,
      it is true I love Mlle. Gilberte; and before a month she will be Marquise
      de Tregars.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller, at those words, had started to her feet, pushing back her
      arm-chair so violently, that it rolled all the way to the wall.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;you marry Gilberte Favoral,&#8212;you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I&#8212;yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The daughter of a defaulting cashier, a dishonored man whom justice
      pursues and the galleys await!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes!&#8221;&nbsp; And in an accent that caused a shiver to run over
      the white shoulders of Mme. de Thaller,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whatever may have been,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s
      crime; whether he has or has not stolen, the twelve millions which are
      wanting from the funds of the Mutual Credit; whether he is alone guilty,
      or has accomplices; whether he be a knave, or a fool, an impostor, or a
      dupe,&#8212;Mlle. Gilberte is not responsible.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know the Favoral family, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough to make their cause henceforth my own.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The agitation of the baroness was so great, that she did not even attempt
      to conceal it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A nobody&rsquo;s daughter!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I love her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Without a sou!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Cesarine made a superb gesture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, that&rsquo;s the very reason why a man may marry her!&#8221; she
      exclaimed, and, holding out her hand to M. de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What you do here is well,&#8221; she added, &#8220;very well.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a wild look in the eyes of the baroness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mad, unhappy child!&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;If your
      father should hear!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And who, then, would report our conversation to him?&nbsp; M. de
      Tregars?&nbsp; He would not do such a thing.&nbsp; You?&nbsp; You dare
      not.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Drawing herself up to her fullest height, her breast swelling with anger,
      her head thrown back, her eyes flashing,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Cesarine,&#8221; ordered Mme. de Thaller, her arm extended towards
      the door&#8212;&#8220;Cesarine, leave the room; I command you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But motionless in her place the girl cast upon her mother a look of
      defiance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come, calm yourself,&#8221; she said in a tone of crushing irony,
      &#8220;or you&rsquo;ll spoil your complexion for the rest of the evening.&nbsp;
      Do I complain? do I get excited?&nbsp; And yet whose fault is it, if honor
      makes it a duty for me to cry &#8216;Beware!&#8217; to an honest man who
      wishes to marry me?&nbsp; That Gilberte should get married:&nbsp; that she
      should be very happy, have many children, darn her husband&rsquo;s stockings,
      and skim her <i>pot-au-feu</i>,&#8212;that is her part in life.&nbsp;
      Ours, dear mother,&#8212;that which you have taught me&#8212;is to laugh
      and have fun, all the time, night and day, till death.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A footman who came in interrupted her.&nbsp; Handing a card to Mme. de
      Thaller,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The gentleman who gave it to me,&#8221; he said, &#8220;is in the
      large parlor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The baroness had become very pale.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221; she said turning the card between her fingers,&#8212;&#8220;oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then suddenly she ran out exclaiming,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I&rsquo;ll be back directly.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      An embarrassing, painful silence followed, as it was inevitable that it
      would, the Baroness de Thaller&rsquo;s precipitate departure.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mlle. Cesarine had approached the mantel-piece.&nbsp; She was leaning her
      elbow upon it, her forehead on her hand, all palpitating and excited.&nbsp;
      Intimidated for, perhaps, the first time in her life, she turned away her
      great blue eyes, as if afraid that they should betray a reflex of her
      thoughts.
    </p>
    <p>
      As to M. de Tregars, he remained at his place, not having one whit too
      much of that power of self-control, which is acquired by a long experience
      of the world, to conceal his impressions.&nbsp; If he had a fault, it was
      certainly not self-conceit; but Mlle. de Thaller had been too explicit and
      too clear to leave him a doubt.&nbsp; All she had said could be comprised
      in one sentence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My parents were in hopes that I would become your wife:&nbsp; I had
      judged you well enough to understand their error.&nbsp; Precisely because
      I love you I acknowledge myself unworthy of you and I wish you to know
      that if you had asked my hand,&#8212;the hand of a girl who has a dowry of
      a million&#8212;I would have ceased to esteem you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That such a feeling should have budded and blossomed in Mlle. Cesarine&rsquo;s
      soul, withered as it was by vanity, and blunted by pleasure was almost a
      miracle.&nbsp; It was, at any rate, an astonishing proof of love which she
      gave; and Marius de Tregars would not have been a man, if he had not been
      deeply moved by it.&nbsp; Suddenly,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a miserable wretch I am!&#8221; she uttered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You mean unhappy,&#8221; said M. de Tregars gently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What can you think of my sincerity?&nbsp; You must, doubtless, find
      it strange, impudent, grotesque.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He lifted his hand in protest; for she gave him no time to put in a word.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;this is not the first time that
      I am assailed by sinister ideas, and that I feel ashamed of myself.&nbsp;
      I was convinced once that this mad existence of mine is the only enviable
      one, the only one that can give happiness.&nbsp; And now I discover that
      it is not the right path which I have taken, or, rather, which I have been
      made to take.&nbsp; And there is no possibility of retracing my steps.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She turned pale, and, in an accent of gloomy despair,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Every thing fails me,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;It seems as
      though I were rolling into a bottomless abyss, without a branch or a tuft
      of grass to cling to.&nbsp; Around me, emptiness, night, chaos.&nbsp; I am
      not yet twenty and it seems to me that I have lived thousands of years,
      and exhausted every sensation.&nbsp; I have seen every thing, learned
      every thing, experienced every thing; and I am tired of every thing, and
      satiated and nauseated.&nbsp; You see me looking like a brainless hoyden,
      I sing, I jest, I talk slang.&nbsp; My gayety surprises everybody.&nbsp;
      In reality, I am literally tired to death.&nbsp; What I feel I could not
      express, there are no words to render absolute disgust.&nbsp; Sometimes I
      say to myself, &#8216;It is stupid to be so sad.&nbsp; What do you need?&nbsp;
      Are you not young, handsome, rich?&#8217;&nbsp; But I must need something,
      or else I would not be thus agitated, nervous, anxious, unable to stay in
      one place, tormented by confused aspirations, and by desires which I
      cannot formulate.&nbsp; What can I do?&nbsp; Seek oblivion in pleasure and
      dissipation?&nbsp; I try, and I succeed for an hour or so; but the
      reaction comes, and the effect vanishes, like froth from champagne.&nbsp;
      The lassitude returns; and, whilst outwardly I continue to laugh, I shed
      within tears of blood which scald my heart.&nbsp; What is to become of me,
      without a memory in the past, or a hope in the future, upon which to rest
      my thought?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And bursting into tears,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, I am wretchedly unhappy!&#8221; she exclaimed; &#8220;and I
      wish I was dead.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars rose, feeling more deeply moved than he would, perhaps, have
      liked to acknowledge.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was laughing at you only a moment since,&#8221; he said in his
      grave and vibrating voice.&nbsp; &#8220;Pardon me, mademoiselle.&nbsp; It
      is with the utmost sincerity, and from the innermost depths of my soul,
      that I pity you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was looking at him with an air of timid doubt, big tears trembling
      between her long eyelashes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Honest?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Upon my honor.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you will not go with too poor an opinion of me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shall retain the firm belief that when you were yet but a child,
      you were spoiled by insane theories.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Gently and sadly she was passing her hand over her forehead.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, that&rsquo;s it,&#8221; she murmured.&nbsp; &#8220;How could I
      resist examples coming from certain persons?&nbsp; How could I help
      becoming intoxicated when I saw myself, as it were, in a cloud of incense
      when I heard nothing but praises and applause?&nbsp; And then there is the
      money, which depraves when it comes in a certain way.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She ceased to speak; but the silence was soon again broken by a slight
      noise, which came from the adjoining room.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mechanically, M. de Tregars looked around him.&nbsp; The little parlor in
      which he found himself was divided from the main drawing-room of the house
      by a tall and broad door, closed only by heavy curtains, which had
      remained partially drawn.&nbsp; Now, such was the disposition of the
      mirrors in the two rooms, that M. de Tregars could see almost the whole of
      the large one reflected in the mirror over the mantelpiece of the little
      parlor.&nbsp; A man of suspicious appearance, and wearing wretched
      clothes, was standing in it.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, the more M. de Tregars examined him, the more it seemed to him that
      he had already seen somewhere that uneasy countenance, that anxious
      glance, that wicked smile flitting upon flat and thin lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      But suddenly the man bowed very low.&nbsp; It was probable that Mme. de
      Thaller, who had gone around through the hall to reach the grand parlor,
      must be coming in; and in fact she almost immediately appeared within the
      range of the glass.&nbsp; She seemed much agitated; and, with a finger
      upon her lips, she was recommending to the man to be prudent, and to speak
      low.&nbsp; It was therefore in a whisper, and such a low whisper that not
      even a vague murmur reached the little parlor, that the man uttered a few
      words.&nbsp; They were such that the baroness started back as if she had
      seen a precipice yawning at her feet; and by this action it was easy to
      understand that she must have said,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it possible?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With the voice which still could not be heard, but with a gesture which
      could be seen, the man evidently replied,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is so, I assure you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And leaning towards Mme. de Thaller, who seemed in no wise shocked to feel
      this repulsive personage&rsquo;s lips almost touching her ear, he began speaking
      to her.
    </p>
    <p>
      The surprise which this species of vision caused to M. de Tregars was
      great, but did not keep him from reflecting what could be the meaning of
      this scene.&nbsp; How came this suspicious-looking man to have obtained
      access, without difficulty, into the grand parlor?&nbsp; Why had the
      baroness, on receiving his card, turned whiter than the laces on her
      dress?&nbsp; What news had he brought, which had made such a deep
      impression?&nbsp; What was he saying that seemed at once to terrify and to
      delight Mme. de Thaller?
    </p>
    <p>
      But soon she interrupted the man, beckoned to him to wait, disappeared for
      a minute; and, when she came in again, she held in her hand a package of
      bank-notes, which she began counting upon the parlor-table.
    </p>
    <p>
      She counted twenty-five, which, so far as M. de Tregars could judge, must
      have been hundred-franc notes.&nbsp; The man took them, counted them over,
      slipped them into his pocket with a grin of satisfaction, and then seemed
      disposed to retire.
    </p>
    <p>
      The baroness detained him, however; and it was she now, who, leaning
      towards him, commenced to explain to him, or rather, as far as her
      attitude showed, to ask him something.&nbsp; It must have been a serious
      matter; for he shook his head, and moved his arms, as if he meant to say,
      &#8220;The deuse, the deuse!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The strangest suspicions flashed across M. de Tregars&rsquo; mind.&nbsp; What
      was that bargain to which the mirror made him thus an accidental witness?&nbsp;
      For it was a bargain:&nbsp; there could be no mistake about it.&nbsp; The
      man, having received a mission, had fulfilled it, and had come to receive
      the price of it.&nbsp; And now a new commission was offered to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars&rsquo; attention was now called off by Mlle. Cesarine.&nbsp;
      Shaking off the torpor which for a moment had overpowered her,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But why fret and worry?&#8221; she said, answering, rather, the
      objections of her own mind than addressing herself to M. de Tregars.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Things are just as they are, and I cannot undo them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! if the mistakes of life were like soiled clothes, which are
      allowed to accumulate in a wardrobe, and which are all sent out at once to
      the wash.&nbsp; But nothing washes the past, not even repentance, whatever
      they may say.&nbsp; There are some ideas which should be set aside.&nbsp;
      A prisoner should not allow himself to think of freedom.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; she added, shrugging her shoulders, &#8220;a
      prisoner has always the hope of escaping; whereas I&#8212;&#8221; Then,
      making a visible effort to resume her usual manner,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bash!&#8221; she said, &#8220;that&rsquo;s enough sentiment for one day;
      and instead of staying here, boring you to death, I ought to go and dress;
      for I am going to the opera with my sweet mamma, and afterwards to the
      ball.&nbsp; You ought to come.&nbsp; I am going to wear a stunning dress.&nbsp;
      The ball is at Mme. de Bois d&rsquo;Ardon&rsquo;s,&#8212;one of our friends, a
      progressive woman.&nbsp; She has a smoking-room for ladies.&nbsp; What do
      you think of that?&nbsp; Come, will you go?&nbsp; We&rsquo;ll drink champagne,
      and we&rsquo;ll laugh.&nbsp; No?&nbsp; Zut then, and my compliments to your
      family.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, at the moment of leaving the room, her heart failed her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This is doubtless the last time I shall ever see you, M. de
      Tregars,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Farewell!&nbsp; You know now why I,
      who have a dowry of a million, I envy Gilberte Favoral.&nbsp; Once more
      farewell.&nbsp; And, whatever happiness may fall to your lot in life,
      remember that Cesarine has wished it all to you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she went out at the very moment when the Baroness de Thaller returned.
    </p>
    <h2>
      VII
    </h2>
    <p>
      &#8220;Cesarine!&#8221;&nbsp; Mme. de Thaller called, in a voice which
      sounded at once like a prayer and a threat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am going to dress myself, mamma,&#8221; she answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Come back!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So that you can scold me if I am not ready when you want to go?&nbsp;
      Thank you, no.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I command you to come back, Cesarine.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      No answer.&nbsp; She was far already.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller closed the door of the little parlor, and returning to
      take a seat by M. de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a singular girl!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime he was watching in the glass what was going on in the other room.&nbsp;
      The suspicious-looking man was there still, and alone.&nbsp; A servant had
      brought him pen, ink and paper; and he was writing rapidly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How is it that they leave him there alone?&#8221; wondered Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      And he endeavored to find upon the features of the baroness an answer to
      the confused presentiments which agitated his brain.&nbsp; But there was
      no longer any trace of the emotion which she had manifested when taken
      unawares.&nbsp; Having had time for reflection, she had composed for
      herself an impenetrable countenance.&nbsp; Somewhat surprised at M. de
      Tregars&rsquo; silence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was saying,&#8221; she repeated, &#8220;that Cesarine is a
      strange girl.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Still absorbed by the scene in the grand parlor,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Strange, indeed!&#8221; he answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And such is,&#8221; said the baroness with a sigh, &#8220;the
      result of M. de Thaller&rsquo;s weakness, and above all of my own.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We have no child but Cesarine; and it was natural that we should
      spoil her.&nbsp; Her fancy has been, and is still, our only law.&nbsp; She
      has never had time to express a wish:&nbsp; she is obeyed before she has
      spoken.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She sighed again, and deeper than the first time.&nbsp; &#8220;You have
      just seen,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;the results of that insane
      education.&nbsp; And yet it would not do to trust appearances.&nbsp;
      Cesarine, believe me, is not as extravagant as she seems.&nbsp; She
      possesses solid qualities,&#8212;of those which a man expects of the woman
      who is to be his wife.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Without taking his eyes off the glass,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe you madame,&#8221; said M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;With her father, with me especially, she is capricious, wilful, and
      violent; but, in the hands of the husband of her choice, she would be like
      wax in the hands of the modeler.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The man in the parlor had finished his letter, and, with an equivocal
      smile, was reading it over.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Believe me, madame,&#8221; replied M. de Tregars, &#8220;I have
      perfectly understood how much naive boasting there was in all that Mlle.
      Cesarine told me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then, really, you do not judge her too severely?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Your heart has not more indulgence for her than my own.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet it is from you that her first real sorrow comes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;From me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The baroness shook her head in a melancholy way, to convey an idea of her
      maternal affection and anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, from you, my dear marquis,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;from you
      alone.&nbsp; On the very day you entered this house, Cesarine&rsquo;s whole
      nature changed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Having read his letter over, the man in the grand parlor had folded it,
      and slipped it into his pocket, and, having left his seat, seemed to be
      waiting for something.&nbsp; M. de Tregars was following, in the glass,
      his every motion, with the most eager curiosity.&nbsp; And nevertheless,
      as he felt the absolute necessity of saying something, were it only to
      avoid attracting the attention of the baroness,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What!&#8221; he said, &#8220;Mlle. Cesarine&rsquo;s nature did change,
      then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In one night.&nbsp; Had she not met the hero of whom every girl
      dreams? &#8212;a man of thirty, bearing one of the oldest names in France.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She stopped, expecting an answer, a word, an exclamation.&nbsp; But, as M.
      de Tregars said nothing,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Did you never notice any thing then?&#8221; she asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose I were to tell you myself, that my poor Cesarine, alas!
      &#8212;loves you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars started.&nbsp; Had he been less occupied with the personage
      in the grand parlor, he would certainly not have allowed the conversation
      to drift in this channel.&nbsp; He understood his mistake; and, in an icy
      tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Permit me, madame,&#8221; he said, &#8220;to believe that you are
      jesting.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose it were the truth.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It would make me unhappy in the extreme.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sir!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For the reason which I have already told you, that I love Mlle.
      Gilberte Favoral with the deepest and the purest love, and that for the
      past three years she has been, before God, my affianced bride.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Something like a flash of anger passed over Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And I,&#8221; she exclaimed,&#8212;&#8220;I tell you that this
      marriage is senseless.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I wish it were still more so, that I might the better show to
      Gilberte how dear she is to me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Calm in appearance, the baroness was scratching with her nails the satin
      of the chair on which she was sitting.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;your resolution is settled.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Irrevocably.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Still, now, come, between us who are no longer children, suppose M.
      de Thaller were to double Cesarine&rsquo;s dowry, to treble it?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      An expression of intense disgust contracted the manly features of Marius
      de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! not another word, madame,&#8221; he interrupted.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was no hope left.&nbsp; Mme. de Thaller fully realized it by the
      tone in which he spoke.&nbsp; She remained pensive for over a minute, and
      suddenly, like a person who has finally made up her mind, she rang.
    </p>
    <p>
      A footman appeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do what I told you!&#8221; she ordered.
    </p>
    <p>
      And as soon as the footman had gone, turning to M. de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Alas!&#8221; she said, &#8220;who would have thought that I would
      curse the day when you first entered our house?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, whilst, she spoke, M. de Tregars noticed in the glass the result of
      the order she had just given.
    </p>
    <p>
      The footman walked into the grand parlor, spoke a few words; and at once
      the man with the alarming countenance put on his hat and went out.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This is very strange!&#8221; thought M. de Tregars.&nbsp; Meantime,
      the baroness was going on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If your intentions are to that point irrevocable, how is it that
      you are here?&nbsp; You have too much experience of the world not to have
      understood, this morning, the object of my visit and of my allusions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Fortunately, M. de Tregars&rsquo; attention was no longer drawn by the
      proceedings in the next room.&nbsp; The decisive moment had come:&nbsp;
      the success of the game he was playing would, perhaps, depend upon his
      coolness and self-command.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is because I did understand, madame, and even better than you
      suppose, that I am here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Indeed!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I came, expecting to deal with M. de Thaller alone.&nbsp; I have
      been compelled, by what has happened, to alter my intentions.&nbsp; It is
      to you that I must speak first.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller continued to manifest the same tranquil assurance; but she
      stood up.&nbsp; Feeling the approach of the storm, she wished to be up,
      and ready to meet it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You honor me,&#8221; she said with an ironical smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was, henceforth, no human power capable of turning Marius de Tregars
      from the object he had in view.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is to you I shall speak,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;because,
      after you have heard me, you may perhaps judge that it is your interest to
      join me in endeavoring to obtain from your husband what I ask, what I
      demand, what I must have.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With an air of surprise marvelously well simulated, if it was not real,
      the baroness was looking at him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My father,&#8221; he proceeded to say, &#8220;the Marquis de
      Tregars, was once rich:&nbsp; he had several millions.&nbsp; And yet when
      I had the misfortune of losing him, three years ago, he was so thoroughly
      ruined, that to relieve the scruples of his honor, and to make his death
      easier, I gave up to his creditors all I had in the world.&nbsp; What had
      become of my father&rsquo;s fortune?&nbsp; What filter had been administered to
      him to induce him to launch into hazardous speculations,&#8212;he an old
      Breton gentleman, full, even to absurdity, of the most obstinate
      prejudices of the nobility?&nbsp; That&rsquo;s what I wished to ascertain.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And now, madame, I&#8212;have ascertained.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was a strong-minded woman, the Baroness de Thaller.&nbsp; She had had
      so many adventures in her life, she had walked on the very edge of so many
      precipices, concealed so many anxieties, that danger was, as it were, her
      element, and that, at the decisive moment of an almost desperate game, she
      could remain smiling like those old gamblers whose face never betrays
      their terrible emotion at the moment when they risk their last stake.&nbsp;
      Not a muscle of her face moved; and it was with the most imperturbable
      calm that she said,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go on, I am listening:&nbsp; it must be quite interesting.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That was not the way to propitiate M. de Tregars.&nbsp; <br />He resumed,
      in a brief and harsh tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When my father died, I was young.&nbsp; I did not know then what I
      have learned since,&#8212;that to contribute to insure the impunity of
      knaves is almost to make one&rsquo;s self their accomplice.&nbsp; And the victim
      who says nothing and submits, does contribute to it.&nbsp; The honest man,
      on the contrary, should speak, and point out to others the trap into which
      he has fallen, that they may avoid it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The baroness was listening with the air of a person who is compelled by
      politeness to hear a tiresome story.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is a rather gloomy preamble,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; M. de
      Tregars took no notice of the interruption.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At all times,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;my father seemed careless
      of his affairs:&nbsp; that affectation, he thought, was due to the name he
      bore.&nbsp; But his negligence was only apparent.&nbsp; I might mention
      things of him that would do honor to the most methodical tradesman.&nbsp;
      He had, for instance, the habit of preserving all the letters of any
      importance which he received.&nbsp; He left twelve or fifteen boxes full
      of such.&nbsp; They were carefully classified; and many bore upon their
      margin a few notes indicating what answer had been made to them.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Half suppressing a yawn,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is order,&#8221; said the baroness, &#8220;if I know any thing
      about it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At the first moment, determined not to stir up the past, I attached
      no importance to those letters; and they would certainly have been burnt,
      but for an old friend of the family, the Count de Villegre, who had them
      carried to his own house.&nbsp; But later, acting under the influence of
      circumstances which it would be too long to explain to you, I regretted my
      apathy; and I thought that I should, perhaps, find in that correspondence
      something to either dissipate or justify certain suspicions which had
      occurred to me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So that, like a respectful son, you read it?&#8221;&nbsp; M. de
      Tregars bowed ceremoniously.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that to avenge a father of the
      imposture of which he was the victim during his life, is to render homage
      to his memory.&nbsp; Yes, madame, I read the whole of that correspondence,
      and with an interest which you will readily understand.&nbsp; I had
      already, and without result, examined the contents of several boxes, when
      in the package marked 1852, a year which my father spent in Paris, certain
      letters attracted my attention.&nbsp; They were written upon coarse paper,
      in a very primitive handwriting and wretchedly spelt.&nbsp; They were
      signed sometimes Phrasie, sometimes Marquise de Javelle.&nbsp; Some gave
      the address, &#8216;Rue des Bergers, No. 3, Paris-Grenelle.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Those letters left me no doubt upon what had taken place.&nbsp; My
      father had met a young working-girl of rare beauty:&nbsp; he had taken a
      fancy to her; and, as he was tormented by the fear of being loved for his
      money alone, he had passed himself off for a poor clerk in one of the
      departments.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Quite a touching little love-romance,&#8221; remarked the baroness.
    </p>
    <p>
      But there was no impertinence that could affect Marius de Tregars&rsquo;
      coolness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A romance, perhaps,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but in that case a
      money-romance, not a love-romance.&nbsp; This Phrasie or Marquise de
      Javelle, announces in one of her letters, that in February, 1853, she has
      given birth to a daughter, whom she has confided to some relatives of hers
      in the south, near Toulouse.&nbsp; It was doubtless that event which
      induced my father to acknowledge who he was.&nbsp; He confesses that he is
      not a poor clerk, but the Marquis de Tregars, having an income of over a
      hundred thousand francs.&nbsp; At once the tone of the correspondence
      changes.&nbsp; The Marquise de Javelle has a stupid time where she lives;
      the neighbors reproach her with her fault; work spoils her pretty hands.&nbsp;
      Result:&nbsp; less than two weeks after the birth of her daughter, my
      father hires for his pretty mistress a lovely apartment, which she
      occupies under the name of Mme. Devil; she is allowed fifteen hundred
      francs a month, servants, horses, carriage.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller was giving signs of the utmost impatience.&nbsp; Without
      paying any attention to them, M. de Tregars proceeded,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Henceforth free to see each other daily, my father and his mistress
      cease to write.&nbsp; But Mme. Devil does not waste her time.&nbsp; During
      a space of less than eight months, from February to September, she induces
      my father to dispose&#8212;not in her favor, she is too disinterested for
      that, but in favor of her daughter&#8212;of a sum exceeding five hundred
      thousand francs.&nbsp; In September, the correspondence is resumed.&nbsp;
      Mme. Devil discovers that she is not happy, and acknowledges it in a
      letter, which shows, by its improved writing and more correct spelling,
      that she has been taking lessons.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She complains of her precarious situation:&nbsp; the future
      frightens her:&nbsp; she longs for respectability.&nbsp; Such is, for
      three months, the constant burden of her correspondence.&nbsp; She regrets
      the time when she was a working girl:&nbsp; why has she been so weak?&nbsp;
      Then, at last, in a note which betrays long debates and stormy
      discussions, she announces that she has an unexpected offer of marriage; a
      fine fellow, who, if she only had two hundred thousand francs, would give
      his name to herself and to her darling little daughter.&nbsp; For a long
      time my father hesitates; but she presses her point with such rare skill,
      she demonstrates so conclusively that this marriage will insure the
      happiness of their child, that my father yields at last, and resigns
      himself to the sacrifice.&nbsp; And in a memorandum on the margin of a
      last letter, he states that he has just given two hundred thousand francs
      to Mme. Devil; that he will never see her again; and that he returns to
      live in Brittany, where he wishes, by the most rigid economy, to repair
      the breach he has just made in his fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thus end all these love-stories,&#8221; said Mme. de Thaller in a
      jesting tone.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I beg your pardon:&nbsp; this one is not ended yet.&nbsp; For many
      years, my father kept his word, and never left our homestead of Tregars.&nbsp;
      But at last he grew tired of his solitude, and returned to Paris.&nbsp;
      Did he seek to see his former mistress again?&nbsp; I think not.&nbsp; I
      suppose that chance brought them together; or else, that, being aware of
      his return, she managed to put herself in his way.&nbsp; He found her more
      fascinating than ever, and, according to what she wrote him, rich and
      respected; for her husband had become a personage.&nbsp; She would have
      been perfectly happy, she added, had it been possible for her to forget
      the man whom she had once loved so much, and to whom she owed her
      position.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have that letter.&nbsp; The elegant hand, the style, and the
      correct orthography, express better than any thing else the
      transformations of the Marquise de Javelle.&nbsp; Only it is not signed.&nbsp;
      The little working-girl has become prudent:&nbsp; she has much to lose,
      and fears to compromise herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A week later, in a laconic note, apparently dictated by an
      irresistible passion, she begs my father to come to see her at her own
      house.&nbsp; He does so, and finds there a little girl, whom he believes
      to be his own child, and whom he at once begins to idolize.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And that&rsquo;s all.&nbsp; Again he falls under the charm.&nbsp; He
      ceases to belong to himself:&nbsp; his former mistress can dispose, at her
      pleasure, of his fortune and of his fate.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But see now what bad luck!&nbsp; The husband takes a notion to
      become jealous of my father&rsquo;s visits.&nbsp; In a letter which is a
      masterpiece of diplomacy, the lady explains her anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;&#8216;He has suspicions,&#8217; she writes; &#8216;and to what
      extremities might he not resort, were he to discover the truth!&#8217;&nbsp;
      And with infinite art she insinuates that the best way to justify his
      constant presence is to associate himself with that jealous husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is with childish haste that my father jumps at the suggestion.&nbsp;
      But money is needed.&nbsp; He sells his lands, and everywhere announces
      that he has great financial ideas, and that he is going to increase his
      fortune tenfold.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There he is now, partner of his former mistress&rsquo;s husband, engaged
      in speculations, director of a company.&nbsp; He thinks that he is doing
      an excellent business:&nbsp; he is convinced that he is making lots of
      money.&nbsp; Poor honest man!&nbsp; They prove to him, one morning, that
      he is ruined, and, what is more, compromised.&nbsp; And this is made to
      look so much like the truth, that I interfere myself, and pay the
      creditors.&nbsp; We were ruined; but honor was safe.&nbsp; A few weeks
      later, my father died broken-hearted.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller half rose from her seat with a gesture which indicated the
      joy of escaping at last a merciless bore.&nbsp; A glance from M. de
      Tregars riveted her to her seat, freezing upon her lips the jest she was
      about to utter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have not done yet,&#8221; he said rudely.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without suffering any interruption,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;From this correspondence,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;resulted the
      flagrant, irrefutable proof of a shameful intrigue, long since suspected
      by my old friend, General Count de Villegre.&nbsp; It became evident to me
      that my poor father had been most shamefully imposed upon by that
      mistress, so handsome and so dearly loved, and, later, despoiled by the
      husband of that mistress.&nbsp; But all this availed me nothing.&nbsp;
      Being ignorant of my father&rsquo;s life and connections, the letters giving
      neither a name nor a precise detail, I knew not whom to accuse.&nbsp;
      Besides, in order to accuse, it is necessary to have, at least, some
      material proof.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The baroness had resumed her seat; and every thing about her&#8212;her
      attitude, her gestures, the motion of her lips&#8212;seemed to say,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are my guest.&nbsp; Civility has its demands; but really you
      abuse your privileges.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars went on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At this moment I was still a sort of savage, wholly absorbed in my
      experiments, and scarcely ever setting foot outside my laboratory.&nbsp; I
      was indignant; I ardently wished to find and to punish the villains who
      had robbed us:&nbsp; but I knew not how to go about it, nor in what
      direction to seek information.&nbsp; The wretches would, perhaps, have
      gone unpunished, but for a good and worthy man, now a commissary of
      police, to whom I once rendered a slight service, one night, in a riot,
      when he was close pressed by some half-dozen rascals.&nbsp; I explained
      the situation to him:&nbsp; he took much interest in it, promised his
      assistance, and marked out my line of conduct.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller seemed restless upon her seat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must confess,&#8221; she began, &#8220;that I am not wholly
      mistress of my time.&nbsp; I am dressed, as you see:&nbsp; I have to go
      out.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      If she had preserved any hope of adjourning the explanation which she felt
      coming, she must have lost it when she heard the tone in which M. de
      Tregars interrupted her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You can go out to-morrow.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without hurrying,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Advised, as I have just told you,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;and
      assisted by the experience of a professional man, I went first to No. 3,
      Rue des Bergers, in Grenelle.&nbsp; I found there some old people, the
      foreman of a neighboring factory and his wife, who had been living in the
      house for nearly twenty-five years.&nbsp; At my first question, they
      exchanged a glance, and commenced laughing.&nbsp; They remembered
      perfectly the Marquise de Javelle, which was but a nickname for a young
      and pretty laundress, whose real name was Euphrasie Taponnet.&nbsp; She
      had lived for eighteen months on the same landing as themselves:&nbsp; she
      had a lover, who passed himself off for a clerk, but who was, in fact, she
      had told them, a very wealthy nobleman.&nbsp; They added that she had
      given birth to a little girl, and that, two weeks later she had
      disappeared, and they had never heard a word from her.&nbsp; When I left
      them, they said to me, &#8216;If you see Phrasie, ask her if she ever knew
      old Chandour and his wife.&nbsp; I am sure she&rsquo;ll remember us.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time Mme. de Thaller shuddered slightly; but it was almost
      imperceptible.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;From Grenelle,&#8221; continued M. de Tregars, &#8220;I went to the
      house where my father&rsquo;s mistress had lived under the name of Mme. Devil.&nbsp;
      I was in luck.&nbsp; I found there the same concierge as in 1853.&nbsp; As
      soon as I mentioned Mme. Devil, she answered me that she had not in the
      least forgotten her, but, on the contrary, would know her among a
      thousand.&nbsp; She was, she said, one of the prettiest little women she
      had ever seen, and the most generous tenant.&nbsp; I understood the hint,
      handed her a couple of napoleons, and heard from her every thing she knew
      on the subject.&nbsp; It seemed that this pretty Mme. Devil had, not one
      lover, but two,&#8212;the acknowledged one, who was the master, and footed
      the bills; and the other an anonymous one, who went out through the
      back-stairs, and who did not pay, on the contrary.&nbsp; The first was
      called the Marquis de Tregars:&nbsp; of the second, she had never known
      but the first name, Frederic.&nbsp; I tried to ascertain what had become
      of Mme. Devil; but the worthy concierge swore to me that she did not know.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;One morning, like a person who is going abroad, or who wishes to
      cover up her tracks, Mme. Devil had sent for a furniture-dealer, and a
      dealer in second-hand clothes, and had sold them every thing she had,
      going away with nothing but a little leather satchel, in which were her
      jewels and her money.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The Baroness de Thaller still kept a good countenance.&nbsp; After
      examining her for a moment, with a sort of eager curiosity, Marius de
      Tregars went on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;When I communicated this information to my friend, the commissary
      of police, he shook his head.&nbsp; &#8216;Two years ago,&#8217; he told
      me, &#8216;I would have said, that&rsquo;s more than we want to find those
      people; for the public records would have given us at once the key of this
      enigma.&nbsp; But we have had the war and the Commune; and the books of
      record have been burnt up.&nbsp; Still we must not give up.&nbsp; A last
      hope remains; and I know the man who is capable of realizing it.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Two days after, he brought me an excellent fellow, named Victor
      Chupin, in whom I could have entire confidence; for he was recommended to
      me by one of the men whom I like and esteem the most, the Duke de
      Champdoce.&nbsp; Giving up all idea of applying at the various mayors&rsquo;
      offices, Victor Chupin, with the patience and the tenacity of an Indian
      following a scent, began beating about the districts of Grenelle,
      Vargirard, and the Invalids.&nbsp; And not in vain; for, after a week of
      investigations he brought me a nurse, residing Rue de l&rsquo;Universite, who
      remembered perfectly having once attended, on the occasion of her
      confinement, a remarkably pretty young woman, living in the Rue des
      Bergers, and nicknamed the Marquise de Javelle.&nbsp; And as she was a
      very orderly woman, who at all times had kept a very exact account of her
      receipts, she brought me a little book in which I read this entry:&nbsp;
      &#8216;For attending Euphrasie Taponnet, alias the Marquise de Javelle (a
      girl), one hundred francs.&#8217;&nbsp; And this is not all.&nbsp; This
      woman informed me, moreover, that she had been requested to present the
      child at the mayor&rsquo;s office, and that she had been duly registered there
      under the names of Euphrasie Cesarine Taponnet, born of Euphrasie
      Taponnet, laundress, and an unknown father.&nbsp; Finally she placed at my
      disposal her account-book and her testimony.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Taxed beyond measure, the energy of the baroness was beginning to fail
      her; she was turning livid under her rice-powder.&nbsp; Still in the same
      icy tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You can understand, madame,&#8221; said Marius de Tregars, &#8220;that
      this woman&rsquo;s testimony, together with the letters which are in my
      possession, enables me to establish before the courts the exact date of
      the birth of a daughter whom my father had of his mistress.&nbsp; But
      that&rsquo;s nothing yet.&nbsp; With renewed zeal, Victor Chupin had resumed his
      investigations.&nbsp; He had undertaken the examination of the
      marriage-registers in all the parishes of Paris, and, as early as the
      following week, he discovered at Notre Dame des Lorettes the entry of the
      marriage of Euphrasie Taponnet with Frederic de Thaller.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Though she must have expected that name, the baroness started up violently
      and livid, and with a haggard look.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s false!&#8221; she began in a choking voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      A smile of ironical pity passed over Marius&rsquo; lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Five minutes&rsquo; reflection will prove to you that it is useless to
      deny,&#8221; he interrupted.&nbsp; &#8220;But wait.&nbsp; In the books of
      that same church, Victor Chupin has found registered the baptism of a
      daughter of M. and Mme de Thaller, bearing the same names as the first
      one, &#8212;Euphrasie Cesarine.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a convulsive motion the baroness shrugged her shoulder.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What does all that prove?&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That proves, madame, the well-settled intention of substituting one
      child for another; that proves that my father was imprudently deceived
      when he was made to believe that the second Cesarine was his daughter, the
      daughter in whose favor he had formerly disposed of over five hundred
      thousand francs; that proves that there is somewhere in the world a poor
      girl who has been basely forsaken by her mother, the Marquise de Javelle,
      now become the Baroness de Thaller.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Beside herself with terror and anger,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is an infamous lie!&#8221; exclaimed the baroness.&nbsp; M. de
      Tregars bowed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The evidence of the truth of my statements,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I
      shall find at Louveciennes, and at the Hotel des Folies, Boulevard du
      Temple, Paris.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Night had come.&nbsp; A footman came in carrying lamps, which he placed
      upon the mantelpiece.&nbsp; He was not all together one minute in the
      little parlor; but that one minute was enough to enable the Marquise de
      Thaller to recover her coolness, and to collect her ideas.&nbsp; When the
      footman retired, she had made up her mind, with the resolute promptness of
      a person accustomed to perilous situations.&nbsp; She gave up the
      discussion, and, drawing near to M. de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough allusions,&#8221; she said:&nbsp; &#8220;let us speak
      frankly, and face to face now.&nbsp; What do you want?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the change was too sudden not to arouse Marius&rsquo;s suspicions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I want a great many things,&#8221; he replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Still you must specify.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, I claim first the five hundred thousand francs which my
      father had settled upon his daughter,&#8212;the daughter whom you cast
      off.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And what next?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I want besides, my own and my father&rsquo;s fortune, of which we have
      been robbed by M. de Thaller, with your assistance, madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is that all, at least?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s nothing yet,&#8221; he replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We have now to say something of Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s affairs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      An attorney who is defending the interests of a client is neither calmer
      nor cooler than Mme. de Thaller at this moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do the affairs of my husband&rsquo;s cashier concern me, then?&#8221; she
      said with a shade of irony.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, madame, very much.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am glad to hear it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know it from excellent sources, because, on my return from
      Louveciennes, I called in the Rue du Cirque, where I saw one Zelie
      Cadelle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He thought that the baroness would at least start on hearing that name.&nbsp;
      Not at all.&nbsp; With a look of profound astonishment,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Rue du Cirque,&#8221; she repeated, like a person who is making a
      prodigious effort of memory,&#8212;&#8220;Rue du Cirque!&nbsp; Zelie
      Cadelle!&nbsp; Really, I do not understand.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But, from the glance which M. de Tregars cast upon her, she must have
      understood that she would not easily draw from him the particulars which
      he had resolved not to tell.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I believe, on the contrary,&#8221; he uttered, &#8220;that you
      understand perfectly.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Be it so, if you insist upon it.&nbsp; What do you ask for Favoral?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I demand, not for Favoral, but for the stockholders who have been
      impudently defrauded, the twelve millions which are missing from the funds
      of the Mutual Credit.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller burst out laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Only that?&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, only that!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, then, it seems to me that you should present your
      reclamations to M. Favoral himself.&nbsp; You have the right to run after
      him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is useless, for the reason that it is not he, the poor fool! who
      has carried off the twelve millions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who is it, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M. le Baron de Thaller, no doubt.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With that accent of pity which one takes to reply to an absurd
      proposition,&#8212;&#8220;You are mad, my poor marquis,&#8221; said Mme.
      de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You do not think so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But suppose I should refuse to do any thing more?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He fixed upon her a glance in which she could read an irrevocable
      determination; and slowly,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have a perfect horror of scandal,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;and,
      as you perceive, I am trying to arrange every thing quietly between us.&nbsp;
      But, if I do not succeed thus, I must appeal to the courts.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where are your proofs?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t be afraid:&nbsp; I have proofs to sustain all my allegations.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The baroness had stretched herself comfortably in her arm-chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;May we know them?&#8221; she inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius was getting somewhat uneasy in presence of Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s
      imperturbable assurance.&nbsp; What hope had she?&nbsp; Could she see some
      means of escape from a situation apparently so desperate?&nbsp; Determined
      to prove to her that all was lost, and that she had nothing to do but to
      surrender,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&nbsp; I know, madame,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;that you have
      taken your precautions.&nbsp; But, when Providence interferes, you see,
      human foresight does not amount to much.&nbsp; See, rather, what happens
      in regard to your first daughter,&#8212;the one you had when you were
      still only Marquise de Javelle.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And briefly he called to her mind the principal incidents of Mlle.
      Lucienne&rsquo;s life from the time that she had left her with the poor
      gardeners at Louveciennes, without giving either her name or her address,&#8212;the
      injury she had received by being run over by Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s carriage;
      the long letter she had written from the hospital, begging for assistance;
      her visit to the house, and her meeting with the Baron de Thaller; the
      effort to induce her to emigrate to America; her arrest by means of false
      information, and her escape, thanks to the kind peace-officer; the attempt
      upon her as she was going home late one night; and, finally, her
      imprisonment after the Commune, among the <i>petroleuses</i>, and her
      release through the interference of the same honest friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, charging her with the responsibility of all these infamous acts, he
      paused for an answer or a protest.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as Mme. de Thaller said nothing,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are looking at me, madame, and wondering how I have discovered
      all that.&nbsp; A single word will explain it all.&nbsp; The peace-officer
      who saved your daughter is precisely the same to whom it was once my good
      fortune to render a service.&nbsp; By comparing notes, we have gradually
      reached the truth,&#8212;reached you, madame.&nbsp; Will you acknowledge
      now that I have more proofs than are necessary to apply to the courts?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Whether she acknowledged it or not, she did not condescend to discuss.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What then?&#8221; she said coldly.
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars was too much on his guard to expose himself, by
      continuing to speak thus, to reveal the secret of his designs.
    </p>
    <p>
      Besides, whilst he was thoroughly satisfied as to the manoeuvres used to
      defraud his father he had, as yet, but presumptions on what concerned
      Vincent Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Permit me not to say another word, madame,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I have told you enough to enable you to judge of the value of my
      weapons.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She must have felt that she could not make him change his mind, for she
      rose to go.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is sufficient,&#8221; she uttered.&nbsp; &#8220;I shall
      reflect; and to-morrow I shall give you an answer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She started to go; but M. de Tregars threw himself quickly between her and
      the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Excuse me,&#8221; he said; &#8220;but it is not to-morrow that I
      want an answer:&nbsp; it is to-night, this instant!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Ah, if she could have annihilated him with a look.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why, this is violence,&#8221; she said in a voice which betrayed
      the incredible effort she was making to control herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is imposed upon me by circumstances, madame.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You would be less exacting, if my husband were here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He must have been within hearing; for suddenly the door opened, and he
      appeared upon the threshold.&nbsp; There are people for whom the
      unforeseen does not exist, and whom no event can disconcert.&nbsp; Having
      ventured every thing, they expect every thing.&nbsp; Such was the Baron de
      Thaller.&nbsp; With a sagacious glance he examined his wife and M. de
      Tregars; and in a cordial tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We are quarreling here?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am glad you have come!&#8221; exclaimed the baroness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The matter is, that M. de Tregars is endeavoring to take an odious
      advantage of some incidents of our past life.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There&rsquo;s woman&rsquo;s exaggeration for you!&#8221; he said laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, holding out his hand to Marius,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let me make your peace&#8212;for you, my dear marquis,&#8221; he
      said:&nbsp; &#8220;that&rsquo;s within the province of the husband.&#8221;&nbsp;
      But, instead of taking his extended hand, M. de Tregars stepped back.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is no more peace possible, sir, I am an enemy.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;An enemy!&#8221; he repeated in a tone of surprise which was
      wonderfully well assumed, if it was not real.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes,&#8221; interrupted the baroness; &#8220;and I must speak to
      you at once, Frederic.&nbsp; Come:&nbsp; M. de Tregars will wait for you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she led her husband into the adjoining room, not without first casting
      upon Marius a look of burning and triumphant hatred.
    </p>
    <p>
      Left alone, M. de Tregars sat down.&nbsp; Far from annoying him, this
      sudden intervention of the manager of the Mutual Credit seemed to him a
      stroke of fortune.&nbsp; It spared him an explanation more painful still
      than the first, and the unpleasant necessity of having to confound a
      villain by proving his infamy to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And besides,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;when the husband and the
      wife have consulted with each other, they will acknowledge that they
      cannot resist, and that it is best to surrender.&#8221;&nbsp; The
      deliberation was brief.&nbsp; In less than ten minutes, M. de Thaller
      returned alone.&nbsp; He was pale; and his face expressed well the grief
      of an honest man who discovers too late that he has misplaced his
      confidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My wife has told me all, sir,&#8221; he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had risen.&nbsp; &#8220;Well?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You see me distressed.&nbsp; Ah, M. le Marquis! how could I ever
      expect such a thing from you?&#8212;you, whom I thought I had the right to
      look upon as a friend.&nbsp; And it is you, who, when a great misfortune
      befalls me, attempts to give me the finishing stroke.&nbsp; It is you who
      would crush me under the weight of slanders gathered in the gutter.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars stopped him with a gesture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Mme. de Thaller cannot have correctly repeated my words to you,
      else you would not utter that word &#8216;slander.&#8217;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;She has repeated them to me without the least change.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then she cannot have told you the importance of the proofs I have
      in my hands.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the Baron persisted, as Mlle. Cesarine would have said, to &#8220;do
      it up in the tender style.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is scarcely a family,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;in which
      there is not some one of those painful secrets which they try to withhold
      from the wickedness of the world.&nbsp; There is one in mine.&nbsp; Yes,
      it is true, that before our marriage, my wife had had a child, whom
      poverty had compelled her to abandon.&nbsp; We have since done everything
      that was humanly possible to find that child, but without success.&nbsp;
      It is a great misfortune, which has weighed upon our life; but it is not a
      crime.&nbsp; If, however, you deem it your interest to divulge our secret,
      and to disgrace a woman, you are free to do so:&nbsp; I cannot prevent
      you.&nbsp; But I declare it to you, that fact is the only thing real in
      your accusations.&nbsp; You say that your father has been duped and
      defrauded.&nbsp; From whom did you get such an idea?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;From Marcolet, doubtless, a man without character, who has become
      my mortal enemy since the day when he tried a sharp game on me, and came
      out second best.&nbsp; Or from Costeclar, perhaps, who does not forgive me
      for having refused him my daughter&rsquo;s hand, and who hates me because I know
      that he committed forgery once, and that he would be in prison but for
      your father&rsquo;s extreme indulgence.&nbsp; Well, Costeclar and Marcolet have
      deceived you.&nbsp; If the Marquis de Tregars ruined himself, it is
      because he undertook a business that he knew nothing about, and speculated
      right and left.&nbsp; It does not take long to sink a fortune, even
      without the assistance of thieves.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As to pretend that I have benefitted by the embezzlements of my
      cashier that is simply stupid; and there can be no one to suggest such a
      thing, except Jottras and Saint Pavin, two scoundrels whom I have had ten
      times the opportunity to send to prison and who were the accomplices of
      Favoral.&nbsp; Besides, the matter is in the hands of justice; and I shall
      prove in the broad daylight of the court-room, as I have already done in
      the office of the examining judge, that, to save the Mutual Credit, I have
      sacrificed more than half my private fortune.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Tired of this speech, the evident object of which was to lead him to
      discuss, and to betray himself,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Conclude, sir,&#8221; M. de Tregars interrupted harshly.&nbsp;
      Still in the same placid tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;To conclude is easy enough,&#8221; replied the baron.&nbsp; &#8220;My
      wife has told me that you were about to marry the daughter of my old
      cashier,&#8212;a very handsome girl, but without a sou.&nbsp; She ought to
      have a dowry.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Sir!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let us show our hands.&nbsp; I am in a critical position:&nbsp; you
      know it, and you are trying to take advantage of it.&nbsp; Very well:&nbsp;
      we can still come to an understanding.&nbsp; What would you say, if I were
      to give to Mlle. Gilberte the dowry I intended for my daughter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      All M. de Tregars&rsquo; blood rushed to his face.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, not another word!&#8221; he exclaimed with a gesture of
      unprecedented violence.&nbsp; But, controlling himself almost at once,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I demand,&#8221; he added, &#8220;my father&rsquo;s fortune.&nbsp; I
      demand that you should restore to the Mutual Credit Company the twelve
      millions which have been abstracted.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And if not?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then I shall apply to the courts.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They remained for a moment face to face, looking into each other&rsquo;s eyes.&nbsp;
      Then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What have you decided?&#8221; asked M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      Without perhaps, suspecting that his offer was a new insult,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I will go as far as fifteen hundred thousand francs,&#8221; replied
      M. de Thaller, &#8220;and I pay cash.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is that your last word?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If I enter a complaint, with the proofs in my hands, you are lost.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We&rsquo;ll see about that.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To insist further would have been puerile.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well, we&rsquo;ll see, then,&#8221; said M. de Tregars.&nbsp; But as
      he walked out and got into his cab, which had been waiting for him at the
      door, he could not help wondering what gave the Baron de Thaller so much
      assurance, and whether he was not mistaken in his conjectures.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was nearly eight o&rsquo;clock, and Maxence, Mme. Favoral and Mlle. Gilberte
      must have been waiting for him with a feverish impatience; but he had
      eaten nothing since morning, and he stopped in front of one of the
      restaurants of the Boulevard.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had just ordered his dinner, when a gentleman of a certain age, but
      active and vigorous still, of military bearing, wearing a mustache, and a
      tan-colored ribbon at his buttonhole, came to take a seat at the adjoining
      table.
    </p>
    <p>
      In less than fifteen minutes M. de Tregars had despatched a bowl of soup
      and a slice of beef, and was hastening out, when his foot struck his
      neighbor&rsquo;s foot, without his being able to understand how it had happened.
    </p>
    <p>
      Though fully convinced that it was not his fault, he hastened to excuse
      himself.&nbsp; But the other began to talk angrily, and so loud, that
      everybody turned around.
    </p>
    <p>
      Vexed as he was, Marius renewed his apologies.
    </p>
    <p>
      But the other, like those cowards who think they have found a greater
      coward than themselves, was pouring forth a torrent of the grossest
      insults.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was lifting his hand to administer a well-deserved
      correction, when suddenly the scene in the grand parlor of the Thaller
      mansion came back vividly to his mind.&nbsp; He saw again, as in the
      glass, the ill-looking man listening, with an anxious look, to Mme. de
      Thaller&rsquo;s propositions, and afterwards sitting down to write.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s it!&#8221; he exclaimed, a multitude of circumstances
      occurring to his mind, which had escaped him at the moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without further reflection, seizing his adversary by the throat, he
      threw him over on the table, holding him down with his knee.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am sure he must have the letter about him,&#8221; he said to the
      people who surrounded him.
    </p>
    <p>
      And in fact he did take from the side-pocket of the villain a letter,
      which he unfolded, and commenced reading aloud,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am waiting for you, my dear major, come quick, for the thing is
      pressing,&#8212;a troublesome gentleman who is to be made to keep quiet.&nbsp;
      It will be for you the matter of a sword-thrust, and for us the occasion
      to divide a round amount.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, that&rsquo;s why he picked a quarrel with me,&#8221; added M. de
      Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      Two waiters had taken hold of the villain, who was struggling furiously,
      and wanted to surrender him to the police.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What&rsquo;s the use?&#8221; said Marius.&nbsp; &#8220;I have his letter:&nbsp;
      that&rsquo;s enough.&nbsp; The police will find him when they want him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, getting back into his cab,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Rue St. Gilles,&#8221; he ordered, &#8220;and lively, if possible.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      VIII
    </h2>
    <p>
      In the Rue St. Gilles the hours were dragging, slow and gloomy.&nbsp;
      After Maxence had left to go and meet M. de Tregars, Mme. Favoral and her
      daughter had remained alone with M. Chapelain, and had been compelled to
      bear the brunt of his wrath, and to hear his interminable complaints.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was certainly an excellent man, that old lawyer, and too just to hold
      Mlle. Gilberte or her mother responsible for Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s acts.&nbsp;
      He spoke the truth when he assured them that he had for them a sincere
      affection, and that they might rely upon his devotion.&nbsp; But he was
      losing a hundred and sixty thousand francs; and a man who loses such a
      large sum is naturally in bad humor, and not much disposed to optimism.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cruellest enemies of the poor women would not have tortured them so
      mercilessly as this devoted friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      He spared them not one sad detail of that meeting at the Mutual Credit
      office, from which he had just come.&nbsp; He exaggerated the proud
      assurance of the manager, and the confiding simplicity of the
      stockholders.&nbsp; &#8220;That Baron de Thaller,&#8221; he said to them,
      &#8220;is certainly the most impudent scoundrel and the cleverest rascal I
      have ever seen.&nbsp; You&rsquo;ll see that he&rsquo;ll get out of it with clean hands
      and full pockets.&nbsp; Whether or not he has accomplices, Vincent will be
      the scapegoat.&nbsp; We must make up our mind to that.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      His positive intention was to console Mme. Favoral and Gilberte.&nbsp; Had
      he sworn to drive them to distraction, he could not have succeeded better.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Poor woman!&#8221; he said, &#8220;what is to become of you?&nbsp;
      Maxence is a good and honest fellow, I am sure, but so weak, so
      thoughtless, so fond of pleasure!&nbsp; He finds it difficult enough to
      get along by himself.&nbsp; Of what assistance will he be to you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then came advice.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Favoral, he declared, should not hesitate to ask for a separation,
      which the tribunal would certainly grant.&nbsp; For want of this
      precaution, she would remain all her life under the burden of her
      husband&rsquo;s debts, and constantly exposed to the annoyances of the
      creditors.
    </p>
    <p>
      And always he wound up by saying,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who could ever have expected such a thing from Vincent,&#8212;a
      friend of twenty years&rsquo; standing!&nbsp; A hundred and sixty thousand
      francs!&nbsp; Who in the world can be trusted hereafter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Big tears were rolling slowly down Mme. Favoral&rsquo;s withered cheeks.&nbsp;
      But Mlle. Gilberte was of those for whom the pity of others is the worst
      misfortune and the most acute suffering.
    </p>
    <p>
      Twenty times she was on the point of exclaiming,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Keep your compassion, sir:&nbsp; we are neither so much to be
      pitied nor so much forsaken as you think.&nbsp; Our misfortune has
      revealed to us a true friend,&#8212;one who does not speak, but acts.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At last, as twelve o&rsquo;clock struck, M. Chapelain withdrew, announcing that
      he would return the next day to get the news, and to bring further
      consolation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Thank Heaven, we are alone at last!&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      But they had not much peace, for all that.
    </p>
    <p>
      Great as had been the noise of Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s disaster, it had not
      reached at once all those who had intrusted their savings to him.&nbsp;
      All day long, the belated creditors kept coming in; and the scenes of the
      morning were renewed on a smaller scale.&nbsp; Then legal summonses began
      to pour in, three or four at a time.&nbsp; Mme. Favoral was losing all
      courage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What disgrace!&#8221; she groaned.&nbsp; &#8220;Will it always be
      so hereafter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she exhausted herself in useless conjectures upon the causes of the
      catastrophe; and such was the disorder of her mind, that she knew not what
      to hope and what to fear, and that from one minute to another she wished
      for the most contradictory things.
    </p>
    <p>
      She would have been glad to hear that her husband was safe out of the
      country, and yet she would have deemed herself less miserable, had she
      known that he was hid somewhere in Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      And obstinately the same questions returned to her lips,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where is he now?&nbsp; What is he doing?&nbsp; What is he thinking
      about?&nbsp; How can he leave us without news?&nbsp; Is it possible that
      it is a woman who has driven him into the precipice?&nbsp; And, if so, who
      is that woman?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Very different were Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s thoughts.
    </p>
    <p>
      The great calamity that befell her family had brought about the sudden
      realization of her hopes.&nbsp; Her father&rsquo;s disaster had given her an
      opportunity to test the man she loved; and she had found him even superior
      to all that she could have dared to dream.&nbsp; The name of Favoral was
      forever disgraced; but she was going to be the wife of Marius, Marquise de
      Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, in the candor of her loyal soul, she accused herself of not taking
      enough interest in her mother&rsquo;s grief, and reproached herself for the
      quivers of joy which she felt within her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where is Maxence?&#8221; asked Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where is M. de Tregars?&nbsp; Why have they told us nothing of
      their projects?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They will, no doubt, come home to dinner,&#8221; replied Mlle.
      Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      So well was she convinced of this, that she had given orders to the
      servant to have a somewhat better dinner than usual; and her heart was
      beating at the thought of being seated near Marius, between her mother and
      her brother.
    </p>
    <p>
      At about six o&rsquo;clock, the bell rang violently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There he is!&#8221; said the young girl, rising to her feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      But no:&nbsp; it was only the porter, bringing up a summons ordering Mme.
      Favoral, under penalty of the law, to appear the next day, at one o&rsquo;clock
      precisely, before the examining judge, Barban d&rsquo;Avranchel, at his office
      in the Palace of Justice.
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor woman came near fainting.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What can this judge want with me?&nbsp; It ought to be forbidden to
      call a wife to testify against her husband,&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M. de Tregars will tell you what to answer, mamma,&#8221; said
      Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, seven o&rsquo;clock came, then eight, and still neither Maxence nor M.
      de Tregars had come.
    </p>
    <p>
      Both mother and daughter were becoming anxious, when at last, a little
      before nine, they heard steps in the hall.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius de Tregars appeared almost immediately.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was pale; and his face bore the trace of the crushing fatigues of the
      day, of the cares which oppressed him, of the reflections which had been
      suggested to his mind by the quarrel of which he had nearly been the
      victim a few moments since.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Maxence is not here?&#8221; he asked at once.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We have not seen him,&#8221; answered Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      He seemed so much surprised, that Mme. Favoral was frightened.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter again, good God!&#8221; she exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing, madame,&#8221; said M. de Tregars,&#8212;&#8220;nothing
      that should alarm you.&nbsp; Compelled, about two hours ago, to part from
      Maxence, I was to have met him here.&nbsp; Since he has not come, he must
      have been detained.&nbsp; I know where; and I will ask your permission to
      run and join him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He went out; but Mlle. Gilberte followed him in the hall, and, taking his
      hand,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How kind of you!&#8221; she began, &#8220;and how can we ever
      sufficiently thank you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He interrupted her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You owe me no thanks, my beloved; for, in what I am doing, there is
      more selfishness than you think.&nbsp; It is my own cause, more than
      yours, that I am defending.&nbsp; Any way, every thing is going on well.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without giving any more explanations, he started again.&nbsp; He had
      no doubt that Maxence, after leaving him, had run to the Hotel des Folies
      to give to Mlle. Lucienne an account of the day&rsquo;s work.&nbsp; And, though
      somewhat annoyed that he had tarried so long, on second thought, he was
      not surprised.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was, therefore, to the Hotel des Folies that he was going.&nbsp; Now
      that he had unmasked his batteries and begun the struggle, he was not
      sorry to meet Mlle. Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      In less than five minutes he had reached the Boulevard du Temple.&nbsp; In
      front of the Fortins&rsquo; narrow corridor a dozen idlers were standing,
      talking.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was listening as he went along.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a frightful accident,&#8221; said one,&#8212;&#8220;such a
      pretty girl, and so young too!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As to me,&#8221; said another, &#8220;it is the driver that I pity
      the most; for after all, if that pretty miss was in that carriage, it was
      for her own pleasure; whereas, the poor coachman was only attending to his
      business.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      A confused presentiment oppressed M. de Tregars&rsquo; heart.&nbsp; Addressing
      himself to one of those worthy citizens,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Have you heard any particulars?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Flattered by the confidence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Certainly I have,&#8221; he replied.&nbsp; &#8220;I didn&rsquo;t see the
      thing with my own proper eyes; but my wife did.&nbsp; It was terrible.&nbsp;
      The carriage, a magnificent private carriage too, came from the direction
      of the Madeleine.&nbsp; The horses had run away; and already there had
      been an accident in the Place du Chateau d&rsquo;Eau, where an old woman had
      been knocked down.&nbsp; Suddenly, here, over there, opposite the
      toy-shop, which is mine, by the way, the wheel of the carriage catches
      into the wheel of an enormous truck; and at once, palata! the coachman is
      thrown down, and so is the lady, who was inside,&#8212;a very pretty girl,
      who lives in this hotel.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Leaving there the obliging narrator, M. de Tregars rushed through the
      narrow corridor of the Hotel des Folies.&nbsp; At the moment when he
      reached the yard, he found himself in presence of Maxence.
    </p>
    <p>
      Pale, his head bare, his eyes wild, shaking with a nervous chill, the poor
      fellow looked like a madman.&nbsp; Noticing M. de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, my friend!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;what misfortune!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Lucienne?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dead, perhaps.&nbsp; The doctor will not answer for her recovery.&nbsp;
      I am going to the druggist&rsquo;s to get a prescription.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was interrupted by the commissary of police, whose kind protection had
      hitherto preserved Mlle. Lucienne.&nbsp; He was coming out of the little
      room on the ground-floor, which the Fortins used for an office, bedroom,
      and dining-room.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had recognized Marius de Tregars, and, coming up to him, he pressed his
      hand, saying, &#8220;Well, you know?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is my fault, M. le Marquis; for we were fully notified.&nbsp; I
      knew so well that Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s existence was threatened, I was so
      fully expecting a new attempt upon her life, that, whenever she went out
      riding, it was one of my men, wearing a footman&rsquo;s livery, who took his
      seat by the side of the coachman.&nbsp; To-day my man was so busy, that I
      said to myself, &#8216;Bash, for once!&#8217;&nbsp; And behold the
      consequences!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was with inexpressible astonishment that Maxence was listening.&nbsp;
      It was with a profound stupor that he discovered between Marius and the
      commissary that serious intimacy which is the result of long intercourse,
      real esteem, and common hopes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not an accident, then,&#8221; remarked M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The coachman has spoken, doubtless?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No:&nbsp; the wretch was killed on the spot.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without waiting for another question,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But don&rsquo;t let us stay here,&#8221; said the commissary.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whilst Maxence runs to the drug-store, let us go into the Fortins&rsquo;
      office.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The husband was alone there, the wife being at that moment with Mlle.
      Lucienne.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do me the favor to go and take a walk for about fifteen minutes,&#8221;
      said the commissary to him.&nbsp; &#8220;We have to talk, this gentleman
      and myself.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Humbly, without a word, and like a man who does himself justice, M. Fortin
      slipped off.
    </p>
    <p>
      And at once,&#8212;&#8220;It is clear, M. le Marquis, it is manifest, that
      a crime has been committed.&nbsp; Listen, and judge for yourself.&nbsp; I
      was just rising from dinner, when I was notified of what was called our
      poor Lucienne&rsquo;s accident.&nbsp; Without even changing my clothes, I ran.&nbsp;
      The carriage was lying in the street, broken to pieces.&nbsp; Two
      policemen were holding the horses, which had been stopped.&nbsp; I
      inquire.&nbsp; I learn that Lucienne, picked up by Maxence, has been able
      to drag herself as far as the Hotel des Folies, and that the driver has
      been taken to the nearest drug-store.&nbsp; Furious at my own negligence,
      and tormented by vague suspicions, it is to the druggist&rsquo;s that I go
      first, and in all haste.&nbsp; The driver was in a backroom, stretched on
      a mattress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;His head having struck the angle of the curbstone, his skull was
      broken; and he had just breathed his last.&nbsp; It was, apparently, the
      annihilation of the hope which I had, of enlightening myself by
      questioning this man.&nbsp; Nevertheless, I give orders to have him
      searched.&nbsp; No paper is discovered upon him to establish his identity;
      but, in one of the pockets of his pantaloons, do you know what they find?&nbsp;
      Two bank-notes of a thousand francs each, carefully wrapped up in a
      fragment of newspaper.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had shuddered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a revelation!&#8221; he murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was not to the present circumstance that he applied that word.&nbsp;
      But the commissary naturally mistook him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;it was a revelation.&nbsp; To me
      these two thousand francs were worth a confession:&nbsp; they could only
      be the wages of a crime.&nbsp; So, without losing a moment, I jump into a
      cab, and drive to Brion&rsquo;s.&nbsp; Everybody was upside down, because the
      horses had just been brought back.&nbsp; I question; and, from the very
      first words, the correctness of my presumption is demonstrated to me.&nbsp;
      The wretch who had just died was not one of Brion&rsquo;s coachmen.&nbsp; This
      is what had happened.&nbsp; At two o&rsquo;clock, when the carriage ordered by
      M. Van Klopen was ready to go for Mlle. Lucienne, they had been compelled
      to send for the driver and the footman, who had forgotten themselves
      drinking in a neighboring wine-shop, with a man who had called to see them
      in the morning.&nbsp; They were slightly under the influence of wine, but
      not enough so to make it imprudent to trust them with horses; and it was
      even probable that the fresh air would sober them completely.&nbsp; They
      had then started; but, they had not gone very far, for one of their
      comrades had seen them stop the carriage in front of a wine-shop, and join
      there the same individual with whom they had been drinking all the
      morning.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And who was no other than the man who was killed?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Wait.&nbsp; Having obtained this information, I get some one to
      take me to the wine-shop; and I ask for the coachman and the footman from
      Brion&rsquo;s.&nbsp; They were there still; and they are shown to me in a
      private room, lying on the floor, fast asleep.&nbsp; I try to wake them
      up, but in vain.&nbsp; I order to water them freely; but a pitcher of
      water thrown on their faces has no effect, save to make them utter an
      inarticulate groan.&nbsp; I guess at once what they have taken.&nbsp; I
      send for a physician, and I call on the wine-merchant for explanations.&nbsp;
      It is his wife and his barkeeper who answer me.&nbsp; They tell me, that,
      at about two o&rsquo;clock, a man came in the shop, who stated that he was
      employed at Brion&rsquo;s, and who ordered three glasses for himself and two
      comrades, whom he was expecting.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A few moments later, a carriage stops at the door; and the driver
      and the footman leave it to come in.&nbsp; They were in a great hurry,
      they said, and only wished to take one glass.&nbsp; They do take three,
      one after another; then they order a bottle.&nbsp; They were evidently
      forgetting their horses, which they had given to hold to a commissionaire.&nbsp;
      Soon the man proposes a game.&nbsp; The others accept; and here they are,
      settled in the back-room, knocking on the table for sealed wine.&nbsp; The
      game must have lasted at least twenty minutes.&nbsp; At the end of that
      time, the man who had come in first appeared, looking very much annoyed,
      saying that it was very unpleasant, that his comrades were dead drunk,
      that they will miss their work, and that the boss, who is anxious to
      please his customers, will certainly dismiss them.&nbsp; Although he had
      taken as much, and more than the rest, he was perfectly steady; and, after
      reflecting for a moment,&#8212;&#8216;I have an idea,&#8217; he says.&nbsp;
      &#8216;Friends should help each other, shouldn&rsquo;t they?&nbsp; I am going to
      take the coachman&rsquo;s livery, and drive in his stead.&nbsp; I happen to know
      the customer they were going after.&nbsp; She is a very kind old lady, and
      I&rsquo;ll tell her a story to explain the absence of the footman.&#8217;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Convinced that the man is in Brion&rsquo;s employment, they have no
      objection to offer to this fine project.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The brigand puts on the livery of the sleeping coachman, gets up on
      the box, and starts off, after stating that he will return for his
      comrades as soon as he has got through the job, and that doubtless they
      will be sober by that time.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars knew well enough the savoir-faire of the commissary not to
      be surprised at his promptness in obtaining precise information.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already he was going on,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Just as I was closing my examination, the doctor arrived.&nbsp; I
      show him my drunkards; and at once he recognizes that I have guessed
      correctly, and that these men have been put asleep by means of one of
      those narcotics of which certain thieves make use to rob their victims.&nbsp;
      A potion, which he administers to them by forcing their teeth open with a
      knife, draws them from this lethargy.&nbsp; They open their eyes, and soon
      are in condition to reply to my questions.&nbsp; They are furious at the
      trick that has been played upon them; but they do not know the man.&nbsp;
      They saw him, they swear to me, for the first time that very morning; and
      they are ignorant even of his name.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was no doubt possible after such complete explanations.&nbsp; The
      commissary had seen correctly, and he proved it.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was not of a vulgar accident that Mlle. Lucienne had just been the
      victim, but of a crime laboriously conceived, and executed with unheard-of
      audacity,&#8212;of one of those crimes such as too many are committed,
      whose combinations, nine times out of ten, set aside even a suspicion, and
      foil all the efforts of human justice.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars knew now what had taken place, as clearly as if he had
      himself received the confession of the guilty parties.
    </p>
    <p>
      A man had been found to execute that perilous programme,&#8212;to make the
      horses run away, and then to run into some heavy wagon.&nbsp; The wretch
      was staking his life on that game; it being evident that the light
      carriage must be smashed in a thousand pieces.&nbsp; But he must have
      relied upon his skill and his presence of mind, to avoid the shock, to
      jump off safe and sound; whilst Mlle. Lucienne, thrown upon the pavement,
      would probably be killed on the spot.&nbsp; The event had deceived his
      expectations, and he had been the victim of his rascality; but his death
      was a misfortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because now,&#8221; resumed the commissary, &#8220;the thread is
      broken in our hands which would infallibly have led us to the truth.&nbsp;
      Who is it that ordered the crime, and paid for it?&nbsp; We know it, since
      we know who benefits by the crime.&nbsp; But that is not sufficient.&nbsp;
      Justice requires something more than moral proofs.&nbsp; Living, this
      bandit would have spoken.&nbsp; His death insures the impunity of the
      wretches of whom he was but the instrument.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; said M. Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      And at the same time he took out of his pocket, and showed the note found
      in Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s pocket-book,&#8212;that note, so obscure the day
      before, now so terribly clear.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I cannot understand your negligence.&nbsp; You should get through
      with that Van Klopen affair:&nbsp; there is the danger.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary of police cast but a glance upon it, and, replying to the
      objections of his old experience rather more than addressing himself to M.
      de Tregars,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There can be no doubt about it,&#8221; he murmured.&nbsp; &#8220;It
      is to the crime committed to-day that these pressing recommendations
      relate; and, directed as they are to Vincent Favoral, they attest his
      complicity.&nbsp; It was he who had charge of finishing the Van Klopen
      affair; in other words, to get rid of Lucienne.&nbsp; It was he, I&rsquo;d wager
      my head, who had treated with the false coachman.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He remained for over a minute absorbed in his own thoughts, then,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But who is the author of these recommendations to Vincent Favoral?&nbsp;
      Do you know that, M. le Marquis?&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      They looked at each other; and the same name rose to their lips,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Baroness de Thaller!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This name, however, they did not utter.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary had placed himself under the gasburner which gave light to
      the Fortin&rsquo;s office; and, adjusting his glasses, he was scrutinizing the
      note with the most minute attention, studying the grain and the
      transparency of the paper, the ink, and the handwriting.&nbsp; And at
      last,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This note,&#8221; he declared, &#8220;cannot constitute a proof
      against its author:&nbsp; I mean an evident, material proof, such as we
      require to obtain from a judge an order of arrest.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as Marius was protesting,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This note,&#8221; he insisted, &#8220;is written with the left
      hand, with common ink, on ordinary foolscap paper, such as is found
      everywhere.&nbsp; Now all left-hand writings look alike.&nbsp; Draw your
      own conclusions.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But M. de Tregars did not give it up yet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Wait a moment,&#8221; he interrupted.
    </p>
    <p>
      And briefly, though with the utmost exactness, he began telling his visit
      to the Thaller mansion, his conversation with Mlle. Cesarine, then with
      the baroness, and finally with the baron himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      He described in the most graphic manner the scene which had taken place in
      the grand parlor between Mme. de Thaller and a worse than
      suspicious-looking man,&#8212;that scene, the secret of which had been
      revealed to him in its minutest details by the looking-glass.&nbsp; Its
      meaning was now as clear as day.
    </p>
    <p>
      This suspicious-looking man had been one of the agents in arranging the
      intended murder:&nbsp; hence the agitation of the baroness when she had
      received his card, and her haste to join him.&nbsp; If she had started
      when he first spoke to her, it was because he was telling her of the
      successful execution of the crime.&nbsp; If she had afterwards made a
      gesture of joy, it was because he had just informed her that the coachman
      had been killed at the same time, and that she found herself thus rid of a
      dangerous accomplice.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary of police shook his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All this is quite probable,&#8221; he murmured; &#8220;but that&rsquo;s
      all.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Again M. de Tregars stopped him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have not done yet,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      And he went on saying how he had been suddenly and brutally assaulted by
      an unknown man in a restaurant; how he had collared this abject scoundrel,
      and taken out of his pocket a crushing letter, which left no doubt as to
      the nature of his mission.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary&rsquo;s eyes were sparkling,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That letter!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;that letter!&#8221;&nbsp;
      And, as soon as he had looked over it,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah!&nbsp; This time,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;I think that we have
      something tangible.&nbsp; &#8216;A troublesome gentleman to keep quiet,&#8217;&#8212;the
      Marquis de Tregars, of course, who is on the right track.&nbsp; &#8216;It
      will be for you the matter of a sword-thrust.&#8217;&nbsp; Naturally, dead
      men tell no tales.&nbsp; &#8216;It will be for us the occasion of dividing
      a round amount.&#8217;&nbsp; An honest trade, indeed!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The good man was rubbing his hand with all his might.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At last we have a positive fact,&#8221; he went on,&#8212;&#8220;a
      foundation upon which to base our accusations.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t be uneasy.&nbsp;
      That letter is going to place into our hands the scoundrel who assaulted
      you,&#8212;who will make known the go-between, who himself will not fail
      to surrender the Baroness de Thaller.&nbsp; Lucienne shall be avenged.&nbsp;
      If we could only now lay our hands on Vincent Favoral!&nbsp; But we&rsquo;ll
      find him yet.&nbsp; I set two fellows after him this afternoon, who have a
      superior scent, and understand their business.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was here interrupted by Maxence, who was returning all out of breath,
      holding in his hand the medicines which he had gone after.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I thought that druggist would never get through,&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      And regretting to have remained away so long, feeling uneasy, and anxious
      to return up stairs,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Don&rsquo;t you wish to see Lucienne?&#8221; he added, addressing himself
      to M. de Tregars rather more than to the commissary.
    </p>
    <p>
      For all answer, they followed him at once.
    </p>
    <p>
      A cheerless-looking place was Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s room, without any furniture
      but a narrow iron bedstead, a dilapidated bureau, four straw-bottomed
      chairs, and a small table.&nbsp; Over the bed, and at the windows, were
      white muslin curtains, with an edging that had once been blue, but had
      become yellow from repeated washings.
    </p>
    <p>
      Often Maxence had begged his friend to take a more comfortable lodging,
      and always she had refused.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We must economize,&#8221; she would say.&nbsp; &#8220;This room
      does well enough for me; and, besides, I am accustomed to it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      When M. de Tregars and the commissary walked in, the estimable hostess of
      the Hotel des Folies was kneeling in front of the fire, preparing some
      medicine.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hearing the footsteps, she got up, and, with a finger upon her lips,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Hush!&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Take care not to wake her up!&#8221;&nbsp;
      The precaution was useless.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am not asleep,&#8221; said Mlle. Lucienne in a feeble voice.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Who is there?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I,&#8221; replied Maxence, advancing towards the bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was only necessary to see the poor girl in order to understand
      Maxence&rsquo;s frightful anxiety.&nbsp; She was whiter than the sheet; and
      fever, that horrible fever which follows severe wounds, gave to her eyes a
      sinister lustre.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But you are not alone,&#8221; she said again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am with him, my child,&#8221; replied the commissary.&nbsp;
      &#8220;I come to beg your pardon for having so badly protected you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shook her head with a sad and gentle motion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was myself who lacked prudence,&#8221; she said; &#8220;for
      to-day, while out, I thought I noticed something wrong; but it looked so
      foolish to be afraid!&nbsp; If it had not happened to-day, it would have
      happened some other day.&nbsp; The villains who have been pursuing me for
      years must be satisfied now.&nbsp; They will soon be rid of me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Lucienne,&#8221; said Maxence in a sorrowful tone.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars now stepped forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You shall live, mademoiselle,&#8221; he uttered in a grave voice.&nbsp;
      &#8220;You shall live to learn to love life.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as she was looking at him in surprise,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You do not know me,&#8221; he added.
    </p>
    <p>
      Timidly, and as if doubting the reality,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You,&#8221; she said, &#8220;the Marquis de Tregars!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, mademoiselle, your brother.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Had he had the control of events, Marius de Tregars would probably not
      have been in such haste to reveal this fact.
    </p>
    <p>
      But how could he control himself in presence of that bed where a poor girl
      was, perhaps, about to die, sacrificed to the terrors and to the cravings
      of the miserable woman who was her mother,&#8212;to die at twenty, victim
      of the basest and most odious of crimes?&nbsp; How could he help feeling
      an intense pity at the sight of this unfortunate young woman who had
      endured every thing that a human being can suffer, whose life had been but
      a long and painful struggle, whose courage had risen above all the woes of
      adversity, and who had been able to pass without a stain through the mud
      and mire of Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      Besides, Marius was not one of those men who mistrust their first impulse,
      who manifest their emotion only for a purpose, who reflect and calculate
      before giving themselves up to the inspirations of their heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lucienne was the daughter of the Marquis de Tregars:&nbsp; of that he was
      absolutely certain.&nbsp; He knew that the same blood flowed in his veins
      and in hers; and he told her so.
    </p>
    <p>
      He told her so, above all, because he believed her in danger; and he
      wished, were she to die, that she should have, at least, that supreme joy.&nbsp;
      Poor Lucienne!&nbsp; Never had she dared to dream of such happiness.&nbsp;
      All her blood rushed to her cheeks; and, in a voice vibrating with the
      most intense emotion,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, now, yes,&#8221; she uttered, &#8220;I would like to live.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary of police, also, felt moved.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not be alarmed, my child,&#8221; he said in his kindest tone.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Before two weeks you will be up.&nbsp; M. de Tregars is a great
      physician.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In the mean time, she had attempted to raise herself on her pillow; and
      that simple effort had wrung from her a cry of anguish.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dear me!&nbsp; How I do suffer!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s because you won&rsquo;t keep quiet, my darling,&#8221; said Mme.
      Fortin in a tone of gentle scolding.&nbsp; &#8220;Have you forgotten that
      the doctor has expressly forbidden you to stir?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Then taking aside the commissary, Maxence, and M. de Tregars, she
      explained to them how imprudent it was to disturb Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s rest.&nbsp;
      She was very ill, affirmed the worthy hostess; and her advice was, that
      they should send for a sick-nurse as soon as possible.
    </p>
    <p>
      She would have been extremely happy, of course, to spend the night by the
      side of her dear lodger; but, unfortunately, she could not think of it,
      the hotel requiring all her time and attention.&nbsp; Fortunately,
      however, she knew in the neighborhood a widow, a very honest woman, and
      without her equal in taking care of the sick.
    </p>
    <p>
      With an anxious and beseeching look, Maxence was consulting M. de Tregars.&nbsp;
      In his eyes could be read the proposition that was burning upon his lips,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Shall I not go for Gilberte?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But that proposition he had no time to express.&nbsp; Though they had been
      speaking very low, Mlle. Lucienne had heard.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have a friend,&#8221; she said, &#8220;who would certainly be
      willing to sit up with me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      They all went up to her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What friend,&#8221; inquired the commissary of police.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know her very well, sir.&nbsp; It is that poor girl who had
      taken me home with her at Batignolles when I left the hospital, who came
      to my assistance during the Commune, and whom you helped to get out of the
      Versailles prisons.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know what has become of her?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Only since yesterday, when I received a letter from her, a very
      friendly letter.&nbsp; She writes that she has found money to set up a
      dressmaking establishment, and that she is relying upon me to be her
      forewoman.&nbsp; She is going to open in the Rue St. Lazare; but, in the
      mean time, she is stopping in the Rue du Cirque.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars and Maxence had started slightly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is your friend&rsquo;s name?&#8221; they inquired at once.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not being aware of the particulars of the two young men&rsquo;s visit to the Rue
      du Cirque, the commissary of police could not understand the cause of
      their agitation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I think,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that it would hardly be proper now
      to send for that girl.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is to her alone, on the contrary, that we must resort,&#8221;
      interrupted M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as he had good reasons to mistrust Mme. Fortin, he took the
      commissary outside the room, on the landing; and there, in a few words, he
      explained to him that this Zelie was precisely the same woman whom they
      had found in the Rue du Cirque, in that sumptuous mansion where Vincent
      Favoral, under the simple name of Vincent, had been living, according to
      the neighbors, in such a princely style.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary of police was astounded.&nbsp; Why had he not known all
      this sooner?&nbsp; Better late than never, however.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! you are right, M. le Marquis, a hundred times right!&#8221; he
      declared.&nbsp; &#8220;This girl must evidently know Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s
      secret, the key of the enigma that we are vainly trying to solve.&nbsp;
      What she would not tell to you, a stranger, she will tell to Lucienne, her
      friend.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence offered to go himself for Zelie Cadelle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No,&#8221; answered Marius.&nbsp; &#8220;If she should happen to
      know you, she would mistrust you, and would refuse to come.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was, therefore, M. Fortin who was despatched to the Rue du Cirque, and
      who went off muttering, though he had received five francs to take a
      carriage, and five francs for his trouble.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And now,&#8221; said the commissary of police to Maxence, &#8220;we
      must both of us get out of the way.&nbsp; I, because the fact of my being
      a commissary would frighten Mme. Cadelle; you because, being Vincent
      Favoral&rsquo;s son, your presence would certainly prove embarrassing to her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And so they went out; but M. de Tregars did not remain long alone with
      Mlle. Lucienne.&nbsp; M. Fortin had had the delicacy not to tarry on the
      way.
    </p>
    <p>
      Eleven o&rsquo;clock struck as Zelie Cadelle rushed like a whirlwind into her
      friend&rsquo;s room.
    </p>
    <p>
      Such had been his haste, that she had given no thought whatever to her
      dress.&nbsp; She had stuck upon her uncombed hair the first bonnet she had
      laid her hand upon, and thrown an old shawl over the wrapper in which she
      had received Marius in the afternoon.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What, my poor Lucienne!&#8221; she exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;Are you
      so sick as all that?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But she stopped short as she recognized M. de Tregars; and, in a
      suspicious tone,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a singular meeting!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius bowed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know Lucienne?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      What she meant by that he understood perfectly.&nbsp; &#8220;Lucienne is
      my sister, madame,&#8221; he said coldly.
    </p>
    <p>
      She shrugged her shoulders.&nbsp; &#8220;What humbug!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It&rsquo;s the truth,&#8221; affirmed Mlle. Lucienne; &#8220;and you know
      that I never lie.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Zelie was dumbfounded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If you say so,&#8221; she muttered.&nbsp; &#8220;But no matter:&nbsp;
      that&rsquo;s queer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars interrupted her with a gesture,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And, what&rsquo;s more, it is because Lucienne is my sister that you see
      her there lying upon that bed.&nbsp; They attempted to murder her to-day!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was her mother who tried to get rid of her, so as to possess
      herself of the fortune which my father had left her; and there is every
      reason to believe that the snare was contrived by Vincent Favoral.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Zelie did not understand very well; but, when Marius and Mlle.
      Lucienne had informed her of all that it was useful for her to know,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;what a horrid rascal that old
      Vincent must be!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, as M. de Tregars remained dumb,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This afternoon,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;I didn&rsquo;t tell you any
      stories; but I didn&rsquo;t tell you every thing, either.&#8221;&nbsp; She
      stopped; and, after a moment of deliberation,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, I don&rsquo;t care for old Vincent,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;Ah!
      he tried to have Lucienne killed, did he?&nbsp; Well, then, I am going to
      tell every thing I know.&nbsp; First of all, he wasn&rsquo;t any thing to me.&nbsp;
      It isn&rsquo;t very flattering; but it is so.&nbsp; He has never kissed so much
      as the end of my finger.&nbsp; He used to say that he loved me, but that
      he respected me still more, because I looked so much like a daughter he
      had lost.&nbsp; Old humbug!&nbsp; And I believed him too!&nbsp; I did,
      upon my word, at least in the beginning.&nbsp; But I am not such a fool as
      I look.&nbsp; I found out very soon that he was making fun of me; and that
      he was only using me as a blind to keep suspicion away from another woman.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;From what woman?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah! now, I do not know!&nbsp; All I know is that she is married,
      that he is crazy about her, and that they are to run away together.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Hasn&rsquo;t he gone, then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Cadelle&rsquo;s face had become somewhat anxious, and for over a minute she
      seemed to hesitate.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know,&#8221; she said at last, &#8220;that my answer is
      going to cost me a lot?&nbsp; They have promised me a pile of money; but I
      haven&rsquo;t got it yet.&nbsp; And, if I say any thing, good-by!&nbsp; I
      sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t have any thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars was opening his lips to tell her that she might rest easy on
      that score; but she cut him short.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, no,&#8221; she said:&nbsp; &#8220;Old Vincent hasn&rsquo;t gone.&nbsp;
      He got up a comedy, so he told me, to throw the lady&rsquo;s husband off the
      track.&nbsp; He sent off a whole lot of baggage by the railroad; but he
      staid in Paris.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And do you know where he is hid?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In the Rue St. Lazare, of course:&nbsp; in the apartment that I
      hired two weeks ago.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In a voice trembling with the excitement of almost certain success,
      &#8220;Would you consent to take me there?&#8221; asked M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Whenever you like,&#8212;to-morrow.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      IX
    </h2>
    <p>
      As he left Mlle. Lucienne&rsquo;s room,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is nothing more to keep me at the Hotel des Folies,&#8221;
      said the commissary of police to Maxence.&nbsp; &#8220;Every thing
      possible will be done, and well done, by M. de Tregars.&nbsp; I am going
      home, therefore; and I am going to take you with me.&nbsp; I have a great
      deal to do and you&rsquo;ll help me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      That was not exactly true; but he feared, on the part of Maxence, some
      imprudence which might compromise the success of M. de Tregars&rsquo; mission.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was trying to think of every thing to leave as little as possible to
      chance; like a man who has seen the best combined plans fail for want of a
      trifling precaution.
    </p>
    <p>
      Once in the yard, he opened the door of the lodge where the honorable
      Fortins, man and wife, were deliberating, and exchanging their
      conjectures, instead of going to bed.&nbsp; For they were wonderfully
      puzzled by all those events that succeeded each other, and anxious about
      all these goings and comings.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am going home,&#8221; the commissary said to them; &#8220;but,
      before that, listen to my instructions.&nbsp; You will allow no one, you
      understand, &#8212;no one who is not known to you, to go up to Mlle.
      Lucienne&rsquo;s room.&nbsp; And remember that I will admit of no excuse, and
      that you must not come and tell me afterwards, &#8216;It isn&rsquo;t our fault,
      we can&rsquo;t see everybody that comes in,&#8217; and all that sort of
      nonsense.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was speaking in that harsh and imperious tone of which police-agents
      have the secret, when they are addressing people who have, by their
      conduct, placed themselves under their dependence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We are going to close our front-door,&#8221; replied the estimable
      hotel-keepers.&nbsp; &#8220;We will comply strictly with your orders.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I trust so; because, if you should disobey me, I should hear it,
      and the result would be a serious trouble to you.&nbsp; Besides your hotel
      being unmercifully closed up, you would find yourselves implicated in a
      very bad piece of business.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The most ardent curiosity could be read in Mme. Fortin&rsquo;s little eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I understood at once,&#8221; she began, &#8220;that something
      extraordinary was going on.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But the commissary interrupted her,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have not done yet.&nbsp; It may be that to-night or to-morrow
      some one will call and inquire how Mlle. Lucienne is.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And then?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will answer that she is as bad as possible; and that she has
      neither spoken a word, nor recovered her senses, since the accident; and
      that she will certainly not live through the day.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The effort which Mme. Fortin made to remain silent gave, better than any
      thing else, an idea of the terror with which the commissary inspired her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That is not all,&#8221; he went on.&nbsp; &#8220;As soon as the
      person in question has started off, you will follow him, without
      affectation, as far as the street-door, and you will point him out with
      your finger, here, like that, to one of my agents, who will happen to be
      on the Boulevard.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose he should not be there?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He shall be there.&nbsp; You can make yourself easy on that score.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The looks of distress which the honorable hotel-keepers were exchanging
      did not announce a very tranquil conscience.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In other words, here we are under surveillance,&#8221; said M.
      Fortin with a groan.&nbsp; &#8220;What have we done to be thus mistrusted?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To reply to him would have been a task more long than difficult.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do as I tell you,&#8221; insisted the commissary harshly, &#8220;and
      don&rsquo;t mind the rest, and, meantime, good-night.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was right in trusting implicitly to his agent&rsquo;s punctuality; for, as
      soon as he came out of the Hotel des Folies, a man passed by him, and
      without seeming to address him, or even to recognize him, said in a
      whisper,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What news?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Nothing,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;except that the Fortins are
      notified.&nbsp; The trap is well set.&nbsp; Keep your eyes open now, and
      spot any one who comes to ask about Mlle. Lucienne.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he hurried on, still followed by Maxence, who walked along like a body
      without soul, tortured by the most frightful anguish.
    </p>
    <p>
      As he had been away the whole evening, four or five persons were waiting
      for him at his office on matters of current business.&nbsp; He despatched
      them in less than no time; after which, addressing himself to an agent on
      duty,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;This evening,&#8221; he said, &#8220;at about nine o&rsquo;clock, in a
      restaurant on the Boulevard, a quarrel took place.&nbsp; A person tried to
      pick a quarrel with another.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will proceed at once to that restaurant; you will get the
      particulars of what took place; and you will ascertain exactly who this
      man is, his name, his profession, and his residence.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Like a man accustomed to such errands,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can I have a description of him?&#8221; inquired the agent.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&nbsp; He is a man past middle age, military bearing, heavy
      mustache, ribbons in his buttonhole.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, I see:&nbsp; one of your regular fighting fellows.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Very well.&nbsp; Go then.&nbsp; I shall not retire before your
      return.&nbsp; Ah, I forgot; find out what they thought to-night on the
      &#8216;street&#8217; about the Mutual Credit affair, and what they said of
      the arrest of one Saint Pavin, editor of &#8216;The Financial Pilot,&#8217;
      and of a banker named Jottras.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Can I take a carriage?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do so.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The agent started; and he was not fairly out of the house, when the
      commissary, opening a door which gave into a small study, called, &#8220;Felix!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was his secretary, a man of about thirty, blonde, with a gentle and
      timid countenance, having, with his long coat, somewhat the appearance of
      a theological student.&nbsp; He appeared immediately.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You call me, sir?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My dear Felix,&#8221; replied the commissary, &#8220;I have seen
      you, sometimes, imitate very nicely all sorts of hand-writings.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The secretary blushed very much, no doubt on account of Maxence, who was
      sitting by the side of his employer.&nbsp; He was a very honest fellow;
      but there are certain little talents of which people do not like to boast;
      and the talent of imitating the writing of others is of the number, for
      the reason, that, fatally and at once, it suggests the idea of forgery.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was only for fun that I used to do that, sir,&#8221; he
      stammered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Would you be here if it had been otherwise?&#8221; said the
      commissary.&nbsp; &#8220;Only this time it is not for fun, but to do me a
      favor that I wish you to try again.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, taking out of his pocket the letter taken by M. de Tregars from the
      man in the restaurant,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Examine this writing,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and see whether you
      feel capable of imitating it tolerably well.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Spreading the letter under the full light of the lamp, the secretary spent
      at least two minutes examining it with the minute attention of an expert.&nbsp;
      And at the same time he was muttering,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not at all convenient, this.&nbsp; Hard writing to imitate.&nbsp;
      Not a salient feature, not a characteristic sign!&nbsp; Nothing to strike
      the eye, or attract attention.&nbsp; It must be some old lawyer&rsquo;s clerk
      who wrote this.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      In spite of his anxiety of mind, the commissary smiled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I shouldn&rsquo;t be surprised if you had guessed right.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus encouraged,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At any rate,&#8221; Felix declared, &#8220;I am going to try.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He took a pen, and, after trying a dozen times,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How is this?&#8221; he asked, holding out a sheet of paper.
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary carefully compared the original with the copy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not perfect,&#8221; he murmured; &#8220;but at night, with
      the imagination excited by a great peril&#8212;Besides, we must risk
      something.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If I had a few hours to practise!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But you have not.&nbsp; Come, take up your pen, and write as well
      as you can, in that same hand, what I am going to tell you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And after a moment&rsquo;s thought, he dictated as follows:&nbsp;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All goes well.&nbsp; T. drawn into a quarrel, is to fight in the
      morning with swords.&nbsp; But our man, whom I cannot leave, refuses to go
      ahead, unless he is paid two thousand francs before the duel.&nbsp; I have
      not the amount.&nbsp; Please hand it to the bearer, who has orders to wait
      for you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary, leaning over his secretary&rsquo;s shoulder, was following his
      hand, and, the last word being written,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perfect!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;Now quick, the address:&nbsp;
      Mme. la Baronne de Thaller, Rue de le Pepiniere.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There are professions which extinguish, in those who exercise them, all
      curiosity.&nbsp; It is with the most complete indifference, and without
      asking a question, that the secretary had done what he had been requested.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now, my dear Felix,&#8221; resumed the commissary, &#8220;you will
      please get yourself up as near as possible like a restaurant-waiter, and
      take this letter to its address.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At this hour!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&nbsp; The Baroness de Thaller is out to a ball.&nbsp; You will
      tell the servants that you are bringing her an answer concerning an
      important matter.&nbsp; They know nothing about it; but they will allow
      you to wait for their mistress in the porter&rsquo;s lodge.&nbsp; As soon as she
      comes in, you will hand her the letter, stating that two gentlemen who are
      taking supper in your restaurant are waiting for the answer.&nbsp; It may
      be that she will exclaim that you are a scoundrel, that she does not know
      what it means:&nbsp; in that case, we shall have been anticipated, and you
      must get away as fast as you can.&nbsp; But the chances are, that she will
      give you two thousand francs; and then you must so manage, that she will
      be seen plainly when she does it.&nbsp; Is it all understood?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Perfectly.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Go ahead, then, and do not lose a minute.&nbsp; I shall wait.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Away from Mlle. Lucienne, Maxence had gradually been recalled to the
      strangeness of the situation; and it was with a mingled feeling of
      curiosity and surprise that he observed the commissary acting and bustling
      about.
    </p>
    <p>
      The good man had found again all the activity of his youth, together with
      that fever of hope and that impatience of success, which usually disappear
      with age.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was going over the whole of the case again,&#8212;his first meeting
      with Mlle. Lucienne, the various attempts upon her life; and he had just
      taken out of the file the letter of information which had been intrusted
      to him, in order to compare the writing with that of the letter taken from
      his adversary by M. de Tregars, when the latter came in all out of breath.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Zelie has spoken!&#8221; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, at once addressing Maxence,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You, my dear friend,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;you must run to the
      Hotel des Folies.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is Lucienne worse?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No.&nbsp; Lucienne is getting on well enough.&nbsp; Zelie has
      spoken; but there is no certainty, that, after due reflection, she will
      not repent, and go and give the alarm.&nbsp; You will return, therefore,
      and you will not lose sight of her until I call for her in the morning.&nbsp;
      If she wishes to go out, you must prevent her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary had understood the importance of the precaution.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must prevent her,&#8221; he added, &#8220;even by force; and I
      authorize you, if need be, to call upon the agent whom I have placed on
      duty, watching the Hotel des Folies, and to whom I am going to send word
      immediately.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Maxence started off on a run.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Poor fellow!&#8221; murmured Marius, &#8220;I know where your
      father is.&nbsp; What are we going to learn now?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He had scarcely had time to communicate the information he had received
      from Mme. Cadelle, when the first of the commissary&rsquo;s emissaries made his
      appearance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The commission is done,&#8221; he said, in that confident tone of a
      man who thinks he has successfully accomplished a difficult task.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You know the name of the individual who sought a quarrel with M. de
      Tregars?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;His name is Corvi.&nbsp; He is well known in all the tables d&rsquo;hote,
      where there are women, and where they deal a healthy little game after
      dinner.&nbsp; I know him well too.&nbsp; He is a bad fellow, who passes
      himself off for a former superior officer in the Italian army.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;His address?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He lives at Rue de la Michodiere, in a furnished house.&nbsp; I
      went there.&nbsp; The porter told me that my man had just gone out with an
      ill-looking individual, and that they must be in a little Caf&eacute; on
      the corner of the next street.&nbsp; I ran there, and found my two fellows
      drinking beer.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Won&rsquo;t they give us the slip?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No danger of that:&nbsp; I have got them fixed.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How is that?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is an idea of mine.&nbsp; I just thought, &#8216;Suppose they
      put off?&#8217;&nbsp; And at once I went to notify some policemen, and I
      returned to station myself near the Caf&eacute;.&nbsp; It was just closing
      up.&nbsp; My two fellows came out:&nbsp; I picked a quarrel with them; and
      now they are in the station-house, well recommended.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The commissary knit his brows.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That&rsquo;s almost too much zeal,&#8221; he murmured.&nbsp; &#8220;Well,
      what&rsquo;s done is done.&nbsp; Did you make any inquiries about the Saint
      Pavin and Jottras matter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I had no time, it was too late.&nbsp; You forget, perhaps, sir,
      that it is nearly two o&rsquo;clock.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Just as he got through, the secretary who had been sent to the Rue de la
      Pepiniere came in.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well?&#8221; inquired the commissary, not without evident anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I waited for Mme. de Thaller over an hour,&#8221; he said.&nbsp;
      &#8220;When she came home, I gave her the letter.&nbsp; She read it; and,
      in presence of a number of her servants, she handed me these two thousand
      francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At the sight of the bank notes, the commissary jumped to his feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Now we have it!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;Here is the proof
      that we wanted.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      X
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was after four o&rsquo;clock when M. de Tregars was at last permitted to
      return home.&nbsp; He had minutely, and at length, arranged every thing
      with the commissary:&nbsp; he had endeavored to anticipate every
      eventuality.&nbsp; His line of conduct was perfectly well marked out, and
      he carried with him the certainty that on the day which was about to dawn
      the strange game that he was playing must be finally won or lost.&nbsp;
      When he reached home,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;At last, here you are, sir!&#8221; exclaimed his faithful servant.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was doubtless anxiety that had kept up the old man all night; but so
      absorbed was Marius&rsquo;s mind, that he scarcely noticed the fact.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Did any one call in my absence?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, sir.&nbsp; A gentleman called during the evening, M.
      Costeclar, who appeared very much vexed not to find you in.&nbsp; He
      stated that he came on a very important matter that you would know all
      about:&nbsp; and he requested me to ask you to wait for him to-morrow,
      that is to-day, by twelve o&rsquo;clock.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Was M. Costeclar sent by M. de Thaller?&nbsp; Had the manager of the
      Mutual Credit changed his mind? and had he decided to accept the
      conditions which he had at first rejected?&nbsp; In that case, it was too
      late.&nbsp; It was no longer in the power of any human being to suspend
      the action of justice.&nbsp; Without giving any further thought to that
      visit,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am worn out with fatigue,&#8221; said M. de Tregars, &#8220;and I
      am going to lie down.&nbsp; At eight o&rsquo;clock precisely you will call me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was in vain that he tried to find a short respite in sleep.&nbsp;
      For forty-eight hours his mind had been taxed beyond measure, his nerves
      had been wrought up to an almost intolerable degree of exaltation.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as he closed his eyes, it was with a merciless precision that his
      imagination presented to him all the events which had taken place since
      that afternoon in the Place-Royale when he had ventured to declare his
      love to Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp; Who could have told him then, that he would
      engage in that struggle, the issue of which must certainly be some
      abominable scandal in which his name would be mixed?&nbsp; Who could have
      told him, that gradually, and by the very force of circumstances, he would
      be led to overcome his repugnance, and to rival the ruses and the tortuous
      combinations of the wretches he was trying to reach?
    </p>
    <p>
      But he was not of those who, once engaged, regret, hesitate, and draw
      back.&nbsp; His conscience reproached him for nothing.&nbsp; It was for
      justice and right that he was battling; and Mlle. Gilberte was the prize
      that would reward him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Eight o&rsquo;clock struck; and his servant came in.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Run for a cab,&#8221; he said:&nbsp; &#8220;I&rsquo;ll be ready in a
      moment.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was ready, in fact, when the old servant returned; and, as he had in
      his pocket some of those arguments that lend wings to the poorest
      cab-horses, in less than ten minutes he had reached the Hotel des Folies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;How is Mlle. Lucienne?&#8221; he inquired first of all of the
      worthy hostess.
    </p>
    <p>
      The intervention of the commissary of police had made M. Fortin and his
      wife more supple than gloves, and more gentle than doves.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The poor dear child is much better,&#8221; answered Mme. Fortin;
      &#8220;and the doctor, who has just left, now feels sure of her recovery.&nbsp;
      But there is a row up there.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A row?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes.&nbsp; That lady whom my husband went after last night insists
      upon going out; and M. Maxence won&rsquo;t let her:&nbsp; so that they are
      quarreling up there.&nbsp; Just listen.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The loud noise of a violent altercation could be heard distinctly.&nbsp;
      M. de Tregars started up stairs, and on the second-story landing he found
      Maxence holding on obstinately to the railing, whilst Mme. Zelie Cadelle,
      redder than a peony, was trying to induce him to let her pass, treating
      him at the same time to some of the choicest epithets of her well-stocked
      repertory.&nbsp; Catching sight of Marius,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Is it you,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;who gave orders to keep me here
      against my wishes?&nbsp; By what right?&nbsp; Am I your prisoner?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To irritate her would have been imprudent.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why did you wish to leave,&#8221; said M. de Tregars gently,
      &#8220;at the very moment when you knew that I was to call for you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But she interrupted him, and, shrugging her shoulders,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why don&rsquo;t you tell the truth?&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;You
      were afraid to trust me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are wrong!&nbsp; What I promise to do I do.&nbsp; I only wanted
      to go home to dress.&nbsp; Can I go in the street in this costume?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she was spreading out her wrapper, all faded and stained.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have a carriage below,&#8221; said Marius.&nbsp; &#8220;No one
      will see us.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Doubtless she understood that it was useless to hesitate.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;As you please,&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars took Maxence aside, and in a hurried whisper,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must,&#8221; said he, &#8220;go at once to the Rue St. Gilles,
      and in my name request your sister to accompany you.&nbsp; You will take a
      closed carriage, and you&rsquo;ll go and wait in the Rue St. Lazare, opposite
      No. 25.&nbsp; It may be that Mlle. Gilberte&rsquo;s assistance will become
      indispensable to me.&nbsp; And, as Lucienne must not be left alone, you
      will request Mme. Fortin to go and stay with her.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, without waiting for an answer,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let us go,&#8221; he said to Mme. Cadelle.
    </p>
    <p>
      They started but the young woman was far from being in her usual spirits.&nbsp;
      It was clear that she was regretting bitterly having gone so far, and not
      having been able to get away at the last moment.&nbsp; As the carriage
      went on, she became paler and a frown appeared upon her face.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No matter,&#8221; she began:&nbsp; &#8220;it&rsquo;s a nasty thing I am
      doing there.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you repent then, assisting me to punish your friend&rsquo;s assassins?&#8221;
      said M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      She shook her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know very well that old Vincent is a scoundrel,&#8221; she said;
      &#8220;but he had trusted me, and I am betraying him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are mistaken, madame.&nbsp; To furnish me the means of speaking
      to M. Favoral is not to betray him; and I shall do every thing in my power
      to enable him to escape the police, and make his way abroad.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a joke!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is the exact truth:&nbsp; I give you my word of honor.&#8221;&nbsp;
      She seemed to feel easier; and, when the carriage turned into the Rue St.
      Lazare, &#8220;Let us stop a moment,&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Why?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;So that I can buy old Vincent&rsquo;s breakfast.&nbsp; He can&rsquo;t go out to
      eat, of course; and so I have to take all his meals to him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius&rsquo;s mistrust was far from being dissipated; and yet he did not think
      it prudent to refuse, promising himself, however, not to lose sight of
      Mme. Zelie.&nbsp; He followed her, therefore, to the baker&rsquo;s and the
      butcher&rsquo;s; and when she had done her marketing, he entered with her the
      house of modest appearance where she had her apartment.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were already going up stairs, when the porter ran out of his lodge.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Madame!&#8221; he said, &#8220;madame!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. Cadelle stopped.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the matter?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A letter for you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;For me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Here it is.&nbsp; A lady brought it less than five minutes ago.&nbsp;
      Really, she looked annoyed not to find you in.&nbsp; But she is going to
      come back.&nbsp; She knew you were to be here this morning.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Tregars had also stopped.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What kind of a looking person was this lady?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Dressed all in black, with a thick veil on her face.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;All right.&nbsp; I thank you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The porter returned to his lodge.&nbsp; Mme. Zelie broke the seal.&nbsp;
      The first envelope contained another, upon which she spelt, for she did
      not read very fluently, &#8220;To be handed to M. Vincent.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Some one knows that he is hiding here,&#8221; she said in a tone of
      utter surprise.&nbsp; &#8220;Who can it be?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who?&nbsp; Why, the woman whose reputation M. Favoral was so
      anxious to spare when he put you in the Rue du Cirque house.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      There was nothing that irritated the young woman so much as this idea.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You are right,&#8221; she said.&nbsp; &#8220;What a fool he made of
      me; the old rascal!&nbsp; But never mind.&nbsp; I am going to pay him for
      it now.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Nevertheless when she reached her story, the third, and at the moment of
      slipping the key into the keyhole, she again seemed perplexed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If some misfortune should happen,&#8221; she sighed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What are you afraid of?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Old Vincent has got all sorts of arms in there.&nbsp; He has sworn
      to me that the first person who forced his way into the apartments, he
      would kill him like a dog.&nbsp; Suppose he should fire at us?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She was afraid, terribly afraid:&nbsp; she was livid, and her teeth
      chattered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Let me go first,&#8221; suggested M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No.&nbsp; Only, if you were a good fellow, you would do what I am
      going to ask you.&nbsp; Say, will you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;If it can be done.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh, certainly!&nbsp; Here is the thing.&nbsp; We&rsquo;ll go in together;
      but you must not make any noise.&nbsp; There is a large closet with glass
      doors, from which every thing can be heard and seen that goes on in the
      large room.&nbsp; You&rsquo;ll get in there.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll go ahead, and draw out
      old Vincent into the parlor and at the right moment, v&rsquo;lan! you appear.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was after all, quite reasonable.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Agreed!&#8221; said Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; she said, &#8220;every thing will go on right.&nbsp;
      The entrance of the closet with the glass doors is on the right as you go
      in.&nbsp; Come along now, and walk easy.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And she opened the door.
    </p>
    <h2>
      XI
    </h2>
    <p>
      The apartment was exactly as described by Mme. Cadelle.&nbsp; In the dark
      and narrow ante-chamber, three doors opened,&#8212;on the left, that of
      the dining-room; in the centre, that of a parlor and bedroom which
      communicated; on the right, that of the closet.&nbsp; M. de Tregars
      slipped in noiselessly through the latter, and at once recognized that
      Mme. Zelie had not deceived him, and that he would see and hear every
      thing that went on in the parlor.&nbsp; He saw the young woman walk into
      it.&nbsp; She laid her provisions down upon the table, and called,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Vincent!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The former cashier of the Mutual Credit appeared at once, coming out of
      the bedroom.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was so changed, that his wife and children would have hesitated in
      recognizing him.&nbsp; He had cut off his beard, pulled out almost the
      whole of his thick eye-brows, and covered his rough and straight hair
      under a brown curly wig.&nbsp; He wore patent-leather boots, wide
      pantaloons, and one of those short jackets of rough material, and with
      broad sleeves which French elegance has borrowed from English stable-boys.&nbsp;
      He tried to appear calm, careless, and playful; but the contraction of his
      lips betrayed a horrible anguish, and his look had the strange mobility of
      the wild beasts&rsquo; eye, when, almost at bay, they stop for a moment,
      listening to the barking of the hounds.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was beginning to fear that you would disappoint me,&#8221; he
      said to Mme. Zelie.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It took me some time to buy your breakfast.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And is that all that kept you?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The porter detained me too, to hand me a letter, in which I found
      one for you.&nbsp; Here it is.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;A letter!&#8221; exclaimed Vincent Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, snatching it from her, he tore off the envelope.&nbsp; But he had
      scarcely looked over it, when he crushed it in his hand, exclaiming,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is monstrous!&nbsp; It is a mean, infamous treason!&#8221;&nbsp;
      He was interrupted by a violent ringing of the door-bell.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who can it be?&#8221; stammered Mme. Cadelle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I know who it is,&#8221; replied the former cashier.&nbsp; &#8220;Open,
      open quick.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She obeyed; and almost at once a woman walked into the parlor, wearing a
      cheap, black woolen dress.&nbsp; With a sudden gesture, she threw off her
      veil; and M. de Tregars recognized the Baroness de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Leave us!&#8221; she said to Mme. Zelie, in a tone which one would
      hardly dare to assume towards a bar-maid.
    </p>
    <p>
      The other felt indignant.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What, what!&#8221; she began.&nbsp; &#8220;I am in my own house
      here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Leave us!&#8221; repeated M. Favoral with a threatening gesture.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Go, go!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She went out but only to take refuge by the side of M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You hear how they treat me,&#8221; she said in a hoarse voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      He made no answer.&nbsp; All his attention was centred upon the parlor.&nbsp;
      The Baroness de Thaller and the former cashier were standing opposite each
      other, like two adversaries about to fight a duel.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have just read your letter,&#8221; began Vincent Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Coldly the baroness said, &#8220;Ah!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is a joke, I suppose.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Not at all.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You refuse to go with me?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Positively.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet it was all agreed upon.&nbsp; I have acted wholly under
      your urgent, pressing advice.&nbsp; How many times have you repeated to me
      that to live with your husband had become an intolerable torment to you!&nbsp;
      How many times have you sworn to me that you wished to be mine alone,
      begging me to procure a large sum of money, and to fly with you!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I was in earnest at the time.&nbsp; I have discovered, at the last
      moment, that it would be impossible for me thus to abandon my country, my
      daughter, my friends.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;We can take Cesarine with us.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not insist.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was looking at her with a stupid, gloomy gaze.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; he stammered, &#8220;those tears, those prayers, those
      oaths!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I have reflected.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It is not possible!&nbsp; If you spoke the truth, you would not be
      here.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am here to make you understand that we must give up projects
      which cannot be realized.&nbsp; There are some social conventionalities
      which cannot be torn up.&#8221;&nbsp; As if he scarcely understood what
      she said, he repeated,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Social conventionalities!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And suddenly falling at Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s feet, his head thrown back, and
      his hands clasped together,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You lie!&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Confess that you lie, and
      that it is a final trial which you are imposing upon me.&nbsp; Or else
      have you, then, never loved me?&nbsp; That&rsquo;s impossible!&nbsp; I would not
      believe you if you were to say so.&nbsp; A woman who does not love a man
      cannot be to him what you have been to me:&nbsp; she does not give herself
      up thus so joyously and so completely.&nbsp; Have you, then, forgotten
      every thing?&nbsp; Is it possible that you do not remember those divine
      evenings in the Rue de Cirque?&#8212;those nights, the mere thought of
      which fires my brain, and consumes my blood.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was horrible to look at, horrible and ridiculous at the same time.&nbsp;
      As he wished to take Mme. de Thaller&rsquo;s hands, she stepped back, and he
      followed her, dragging himself on his knees.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Where could you find,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;a man to worship
      you like me, with an ardent, absolute, blind, mad passion?&nbsp; With what
      can you reproach me?&nbsp; Have I not sacrificed to you without a murmur
      every thing that a man can sacrifice here below,&#8212;fortune, family,
      honor, &#8212;to supply your extravagance, to anticipate your slightest
      fancies, to give you gold to scatter by the handful?&nbsp; Did I not leave
      my own family struggling with poverty?&nbsp; I would have snatched bread
      from my children&rsquo;s mouths in order to purchase roses to scatter under your
      footsteps.&nbsp; And for years did ever a word from me betray the secret
      of our love?&nbsp; What have I not endured?&nbsp; You deceived me.&nbsp; I
      knew it, and I said nothing.&nbsp; Upon a word from you I stepped aside
      before him whom your caprice made happy for a day.&nbsp; You told me,
      &#8216;Steal!&#8217; and I stole.&nbsp; You told me, &#8216;Kill!&#8217;
      and I tried to kill.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fly.&nbsp; A man who has twelve hundred thousand francs in gold,
      bank-notes, and good securities, can always get along.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And my wife and children?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Maxence is old enough to help his mother.&nbsp; Gilberte will find
      a husband:&nbsp; depend upon it.&nbsp; Besides, what&rsquo;s to prevent you from
      sending them money?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They would refuse it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You will always be a fool, my dear!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      To Vincent Favoral&rsquo;s first stupor and miserable weakness now succeeded a
      terrible passion.&nbsp; All the blood had left his face:&nbsp; his eyes
      was flashing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;all is really over?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Of course.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then I have been duped like the rest,&#8212;like that poor Marquis
      de Tregars, whom you had made mad also.&nbsp; But he, at least saved his
      honor; whereas I&#8212;And I have no excuse; for I should have known.&nbsp;
      I knew that you were but the bait which the Baron de Thaller held out to
      his victims.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He waited for an answer; but she maintained a contemptuous silence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Then you think,&#8221; he said with a threatening laugh, &#8220;that
      it will all end that way?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What can you do?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;There is such a thing as justice, I imagine, and judges too.&nbsp;
      I can give myself up, and reveal every thing.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      She shrugged her shoulders.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That would be throwing yourself into the wolf&rsquo;s mouth for nothing,&#8221;
      she said.&nbsp; &#8220;You know better than any one else that my
      precautions are well enough taken to defy any thing you can do or say.&nbsp;
      I have nothing to fear.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Are you quite sure of that?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Trust to me,&#8221; she said with a smile of perfect security.
    </p>
    <p>
      The former cashier of the Mutual Credit made a terrible gesture; but,
      checking himself at once, he seized one of the baroness&rsquo;s hands.&nbsp; She
      withdrew it quickly, however, and, in an accent of insurmountable disgust,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Enough, enough!&#8221; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the adjoining closet Marius de Tregars could feel Mme. Zelie Cadelle
      shuddering by his side.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What a wretch that woman is!&#8221; she murmured; &#8220;and he&#8212;what
      a base coward!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The former cashier remained prostrated, striking the floor with his head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And you would forsake me,&#8221; he groaned, &#8220;when we are
      united by a past such as ours!&nbsp; How could you replace me?&nbsp; Where
      would you find a slave so devoted to your every wish?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The baroness was getting impatient.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Stop!&#8221; she interrupted,&#8212;&#8220;stop these
      demonstrations as useless as ridiculous.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      This time he did start up, as if lashed with a whip and, double locking
      the door which communicated with the ante-chamber, he put the key in his
      pocket; and, with a step as stiff and mechanical as that of an automaton,
      he disappeared in the sleeping-room.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is going for a weapon,&#8221; whispered Mme. Cadelle.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was also what Marius thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Run down quick,&#8221; he said to Mme. Zelie.&nbsp; &#8220;In a cab
      standing opposite No. 25, you will find Mlle. Gilberte Favoral waiting.&nbsp;
      Let her come at once.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And, rushing into the parlor,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Fly!&#8221; he said to Mme. Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      But she was as petrified by this apparition.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;M. de Tregars!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, yes, me.&nbsp; But hurry and go!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he pushed her into the closet.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was but time.&nbsp; Vincent Favoral reappeared upon the threshold of
      the bedroom.&nbsp; But, if it was a weapon he had gone for, it was not for
      the one which Marius and Mme. Cadelle supposed.&nbsp; It was a bundle of
      papers which he held in his hand.&nbsp; Seeing M. de Tregars there,
      instead of Mme. de Thaller, an exclamation of terror and surprise rose to
      his lips.&nbsp; He understood vaguely what must have taken place; that the
      man who stood there must have been concealed in the glass closet, and that
      he had assisted the baroness to escape.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, the miserable wretch!&#8221; he stammered with a tongue made
      thick by passion, &#8220;the infamous wretch!&nbsp; She has betrayed me;
      she has surrendered me.&nbsp; I am lost!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mastering the most terrible emotion he had ever felt,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;No, no! you shall not be surrendered,&#8221; uttered M. de Tregars.
    </p>
    <p>
      Collecting all the energy that the devouring passion which had blasted his
      existence had left him, the former cashier of the Mutual Credit took one
      or two steps forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Who are you, then?&#8221; he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you not know me?&nbsp; I am the son of that unfortunate Marquis
      de Tregars of whom you spoke a moment since.&nbsp; I am Lucienne&rsquo;s
      brother.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Like a man who has received a stunning blow, Vincent Favoral sank heavily
      upon a chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He knows all,&#8221; he groaned.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, all!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You must hate me mortally.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I pity you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The old cashier had reached that point when all the faculties, after being
      strained to their utmost limits, suddenly break down, when the strongest
      man gives up, and weeps like a child.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, I am the most wretched of villains!&#8221; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had hid his face in his hands; and in one second,&#8212;as it happens,
      they say, to the dying on the threshold of eternity,&#8212;he reviewed his
      entire existence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And yet,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I had not the soul of a villain.&nbsp;
      I wanted to get rich; but honestly, by labor, and by rigid economy.&nbsp;
      And I should have succeeded.&nbsp; I had a hundred and fifty thousand
      francs of my own when I met the Baron de Thaller.&nbsp; Alas! why did I
      meet him?&nbsp; &lsquo;Twas he who first gave me to understand that it was
      stupid to work and save, when, at the bourse, with moderate luck, one
      might become a millionaire in six months.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He stopped, shook his head, and suddenly,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do you know the Baron de Thaller?&#8221; he asked.&nbsp; And,
      without giving Marius time to answer,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;He is a German,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;a Prussian.&nbsp; His
      father was a cab-driver in Berlin, and his mother waiting-maid in a
      brewery.&nbsp; At the age of eighteen, he was compelled to leave his
      country, owing to some petty swindle, and came to take up his residence in
      Paris.&nbsp; He found employment in the office of a stock-broker, and was
      living very poorly, when he made the acquaintance of a young laundress
      named Affrays, who had for a lover a very wealthy gentleman, the Marquis
      de Tregars, whose weakness was to pass himself off for a poor clerk.&nbsp;
      Affrays and Thaller were well calculated to agree.&nbsp; They did agree,
      and formed an association,&#8212;she contributing her beauty; he, his
      genius for intrigue; both, their corruption and their vices.&nbsp; Soon
      after they met, she gave birth to a child, a daughter; whom she intrusted
      to some poor gardeners at Louveciennes, with the firm and settled
      intention to leave her there forever.&nbsp; And yet it was upon this
      daughter, whom they firmly hoped never to see again, that the two
      accomplices were building their fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was in the name of that daughter that Affrays wrung considerable
      sums from the Marquis de Tregars.&nbsp; As soon as Thaller and she found
      themselves in possession of six hundred thousand francs, they dismissed
      the marquis, and got married.&nbsp; Already, at that time, Thaller had
      taken the title of baron, and lived in some style.&nbsp; But his first
      speculations were not successful.&nbsp; The revolution of 1848 finished
      his ruin, and he was about being expelled from the bourse, when he found
      me on his way,&#8212;I, poor fool, who was going about everywhere, asking
      how I could advantageously invest my hundred and fifty thousand francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was speaking in a hoarse voice, shaking his clinched fist in the air,
      doubtless at the Baron de Thaller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Unfortunately,&#8221; he resumed, &#8220;it was only much later
      that I discovered all this.&nbsp; At the moment, M. de Thaller dazzled me.&nbsp;
      His friends, Saint Pavin and the bankers Jottras, proclaimed him the
      smartest and the most honest man in France.&nbsp; Still I would not have
      given my money, if it had not been for the baroness.&nbsp; The first time
      that I was introduced to her, and that she fixed upon me her great black
      eyes, I felt myself moved to the deepest recesses of my soul.&nbsp; In
      order to see her again, I invited her, together with her husband and her
      husband&rsquo;s friends, to dine with me, by the side of my wife and children.&nbsp;
      She came.&nbsp; Her husband made me sign every thing he pleased; but, as
      she went off, she pressed my hand.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was still shuddering at the recollection of it, the poor fellow!
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The next day,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I handed to Thaller all I
      had in the world; and, in exchange, he gave me the position of cashier in
      the Mutual Credit, which he had just founded.&nbsp; He treated me like an
      inferior, and did not admit me to visit his family.&nbsp; But I didn&rsquo;t
      care:&nbsp; the baroness had permitted me to see her again, and almost
      every afternoon I met her at the Tuileries; and I had made bold to tell
      her that I loved her to desperation.&nbsp; At last, one evening, she
      consented to make an appointment with me for the second following day, in
      an apartment which I had rented.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The day before I was to meet her, and whilst I was beside myself
      with joy, the Baron de Thaller requested me to assist him, by means of
      certain irregular entries, to conceal a deficit arising from unsuccessful
      speculations.&nbsp; How could I refuse a man, whom, as I thought, I was
      about to deceive grossly!&nbsp; I did as he wished.&nbsp; The next day
      Mme. de Thaller became my mistress; and I was a lost man.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Was he trying to exculpate himself?&nbsp; Was he merely yielding to that
      imperious sentiment, more powerful than the will or the reason, which
      impels the criminal to reveal the secret which oppresses him?
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;From that day,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;began for me the torment
      of that double existence which I underwent for years.&nbsp; I had given to
      my mistress all I had in the world; and she was insatiable.&nbsp; She
      wanted money always, any way, and in heaps.&nbsp; She made me buy the
      house in the Rue du Cirque for our meetings; and, between the demands of
      the husband and those of the wife, I was almost insane.&nbsp; I drew from
      the funds of the Mutual Credit as from an inexhaustible mine; and, as I
      foresaw that some day must come when all would be discovered, I always
      carried about me a loaded revolver, with which to blow out my brains when
      they came to arrest me.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he showed to Marius the handle of a revolver protruding from his
      pocket.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And if only she had been faithful to me!&#8221; he continued,
      becoming more and more animated.&nbsp; &#8220;But what have I not endured!&nbsp;
      When the Marquis de Tregars returned to Paris, and they set about
      defrauding him of his fortune, she did not hesitate a moment to become his
      mistress again.&nbsp; She used to tell me, &#8216;What a fool you are! all
      I want is his money.&nbsp; I love no one but you.&#8217;&nbsp; But after
      his death she took others.&nbsp; She made use of our house in the Rue du
      Cirque for purposes of dissipation for herself and her daughter Cesarine.&nbsp;
      And I&#8212;miserable coward that I was!&#8212;I suffered all, so much did
      I tremble to lose her, so much did I fear to be weaned from the semblance
      of love with which she paid my fearful sacrifices.&nbsp; And now she would
      betray me, forsake me!&nbsp; For every thing that has taken place was
      suggested by her in order to procure a sum wherewith to fly to America.&nbsp;
      It was she who imagined the wretched comedy which I played, so as to throw
      upon myself the whole responsibility.&nbsp; M. de Thaller has had millions
      for his share:&nbsp; I have only had twelve hundred thousand francs.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Violent nervous shudders shook his frame:&nbsp; his face became purple.&nbsp;
      He drew himself up, and, brandishing the letters which he held in his
      hand,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But all is not over!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;There are
      proofs which neither the baron nor his wife know that I have.&nbsp; I have
      the proof of the infamous swindle of which the Marquis de Tregars was the
      victim.&nbsp; I have the proof of the farce got up by M. de Thaller and
      myself to defraud the stockholders of the Mutual Credit!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you hope for?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was laughing a stupid laugh.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I?&nbsp; I shall go and hide myself in some suburb of Paris, and
      write to Affrays to come.&nbsp; She knows that I have twelve hundred
      thousand francs.&nbsp; She will come; and she will keep coming as long as
      I have any money.&nbsp; And when I have no more:&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He stopped short, starting back, his arms outstretched as if to repel a
      terrifying apparition.&nbsp; Mlle. Gilberte had just appeared at the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;My daughter!&#8221; stammered the wretch.&nbsp; &#8220;Gilberte!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The Marquise de Tregars,&#8221; uttered Marius.
    </p>
    <p>
      An inexpressible look of terror and anguish convulsed the features of
      Vincent Favoral:&nbsp; he guessed that it was the end.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What do you want with me?&#8221; he stammered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The money that you have stolen, father,&#8221; replied the girl in
      an inexorable tone of voice,&#8212;&#8220;the twelve hundred thousand
      francs which you have here, then the proofs which are in your hands, and,
      finally your weapons.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He was trembling from head to foot.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Take away my money!&#8221; he said.&nbsp; &#8220;Why, that would be
      compelling me to give myself up!&nbsp; Do you wish to see me in prison?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;The disgrace would fall back upon your children, sir,&#8221; said
      M. de Tregars.&nbsp; &#8220;We shall, on the contrary, do every thing in
      the world to enable you to evade the pursuit of the police.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Well, yes, then.&nbsp; But to-morrow I must write to Affrays:&nbsp;
      I must see her!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You have lost your mind, father,&#8221; said Mlle. Gilberte.&nbsp;
      &#8220;Come, do as I ask you.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He drew himself up to his full height.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;And suppose I refuse?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was the last effort of his will.&nbsp; He yielded, though not
      without an agonizing struggle and gave up to his daughter the money, the
      proofs and the arms.&nbsp; And as she was walking away, leaning on M. de
      Tregars&rsquo; arm,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;But send me your mother, at least,&#8221; he begged.&nbsp; &#8220;She
      will understand me:&nbsp; she will not be without pity.&nbsp; She is my
      wife:&nbsp; let her come quick.&nbsp; I will not, I can not remain alone.&#8221;
    </p>
    <h2>
      XII
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was with convulsive haste that the Baroness de Thaller went over the
      distance that separated the Rue St. Lazare from the Rue de la Pepiniere.&nbsp;
      The sudden intervention of M. de Tregars had upset all her ideas.&nbsp;
      The most sinister presentiments agitated her mind.&nbsp; In the courtyard
      of her residence, all the servants, gathered in a group, were talking.&nbsp;
      They did not take the trouble to stand aside to let her pass; and she even
      noticed some smiles and ironical gigglings.&nbsp; This was a terrible blow
      to her.&nbsp; What was the matter?&nbsp; What had they heard?&nbsp; In the
      magnificent vestibule, a man was sitting as she came in.&nbsp; It was the
      same suspicious character that Marius de Tregars had seen in the grand
      parlor, in close conference with the baroness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Bad news,&#8221; he said with a sheepish look.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;That little Lucienne must have her soul riveted to her body.&nbsp;
      She is only wounded; and she&rsquo;ll get over it.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Never mind Lucienne.&nbsp; What about M. de Tregars?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Oh! he is another sharp one.&nbsp; Instead of taking up our man&rsquo;s
      provocation, he collared him, and took away from him the note I had sent
      him.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      Mme. de Thaller started violently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What is the meaning, then,&#8221; she asked, &#8220;of your letter
      of last night, in which you requested me to hand two thousand francs to
      the bearer?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The man became pale as death.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You received a letter from me,&#8221; he stammered, &#8220;last
      night?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Yes, from you; and I gave the money.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The man struck his forehead.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I understand it all!&#8221; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;What?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;They wanted proofs.&nbsp; They imitated my handwriting, and you
      swallowed the bait.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s the reason why I spent the night in the
      station-house; and, if they let me go this morning, it was to find out
      where I&rsquo;d go.&nbsp; I have been followed, they are shadowing me.&nbsp; We
      are gone up, Mme. le Baronne. <i>Sauve qui peut!</i>&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      And he ran out.
    </p>
    <p>
      More agitated than ever Mme. de Thaller went up stairs.&nbsp; In the
      little red-and-gold parlor, the Baron de Thaller and Mlle. Cesarine were
      waiting for her.&nbsp; Stretched upon an arm-chair, her legs crossed, the
      tip of her boot on a level with her eye, Mlle. Cesarine, with a look of
      ironical curiosity, was watching her father, who, livid and trembling with
      nervous excitement, was walking up and down, like a wild beast in his
      cage.&nbsp; As soon as the baroness appeared,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Things are going badly,&#8221; said her husband, &#8220;very badly.&nbsp;
      Our game is devilishly compromised.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;You think so?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I am but too sure of it.&nbsp; Such a well-combined stroke too!&nbsp;
      But every thing is against us.&nbsp; In presence of the examining
      magistrate, Jottras held out well; but Saint Pavin spoke.&nbsp; That dirty
      rascal was not satisfied with the share allotted to him.&nbsp; On the
      information furnished by him, Costeclar was arrested this morning.&nbsp;
      And Costeclar knows all, since he has been your confidant, Vincent
      Favoral&rsquo;s, and my own.&nbsp; When a man has, like him, two or three
      forgeries in his record, he is sure to speak.&nbsp; He will speak.&nbsp;
      Perhaps he has already done so, since the police has taken possession of
      Latterman&rsquo;s office, with whom I had organized the panic and the tumble in
      the Mutual Credit stock.&nbsp; What can we do to ward off this blow?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      With a surer glance than her husband, Mme. de Thaller had measured the
      situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Do not try to ward it off,&#8221; she replied:&nbsp; &#8220;It
      would be useless.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Because M. de Tregars has found Vincent Favoral; because, at this
      very moment, they are together, arranging their plans.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      The baron made a terrible gesture.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Ah, thunder and lightning!&#8221; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &#8220;I
      always told you that this stupid fool, Favoral, would cause our ruin.&nbsp;
      It was so easy for you to find an occasion for him to blow his brains out.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Was it so difficult for you to accept M. de Tregars&rsquo; offers?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;It was you who made me refuse.&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Was it me, too, who was so anxious to get rid of Lucienne?&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      For years, Mlle. Cesarine had not seemed so amused; and, in a half
      whisper, she was humming the famous tune, from &#8220;The Pearl of
      Poutoise,&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &#8220;Happy accord!&nbsp;
      Happy couple!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Thaller, beside himself, was advancing to seize the baroness:&nbsp;
      she was drawing back, knowing him, perhaps to be capable of any thing,
      when suddenly there was a violent knocking at the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;In the name of the law!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a commissary of police.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, whilst surrounded by agents, they were taken to a cab.
    </p>
    <p>
      * * *
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Orphan on both sides!&#8221; exclaimed Mlle. Cesarine, &#8220;I am
      free, then.&nbsp; Now we&rsquo;ll have some fun!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      At that very moment, M. de Tregars and Mlle. Gilberte reached the Rue St.
      Gilles.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hearing that her husband had been found,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;I must see him!&#8221; exclaimed Mme. Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      And, in spite of any thing they could tell her, she threw a shawl over her
      shoulders, and started with Mlle. Gilberte.
    </p>
    <p>
      When they had entered Mme. Zelie&rsquo;s apartment, of which they had a key,
      they found in the parlor, with his back towards them, Vincent Favoral
      sitting at the table, leaning forward, and apparently writing.&nbsp; Mme.
      Favoral approached on tiptoe, and over her husband&rsquo;s shoulder she read
      what he had just written,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Affrays, my beloved, eternally-adored mistress, will you forgive
      me?&nbsp; The money that I was keeping for you, my darling, the proofs
      which will crush your husband&#8212;they have taken every thing from me,
      basely, by force.&nbsp; And it is my daughter&#8212;&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He had stopped there.&nbsp; Surprised at his immobility, Mme. Favoral
      called,
    </p>
    <p>
      &#8220;Vincent!&#8221;
    </p>
    <p>
      He made no answer.&nbsp; She pushed him with her finger.&nbsp; He rolled
      to the ground.&nbsp; He was dead.
    </p>
    <p>
      Three months later the great Mutual Credit suit was tried before the Sixth
      Court.&nbsp; The scandal was great; but public curiosity was strangely
      disappointed.&nbsp; As in most of these financial affairs, justice, whilst
      exposing the most audacious frauds, was not able to unravel the true
      secret.
    </p>
    <p>
      She managed, at least, to lay hands upon every thing that the Baron de
      Thaller had hoped to save.&nbsp; That worthy was condemned to five years&rsquo;
      prison; M. Costeclar got off with three years; and M. Jottras with two.&nbsp;
      M. Saint Pavin was acquitted.
    </p>
    <p>
      Arrested for subornation of murder, the former Marquise de Javelle the
      Baroness de Thaller, was released for want of proper proof.&nbsp; But,
      implicated in the suit against her husband, she lost three-fourths of her
      fortune, and is now living with her daughter, whose d&eacute;but is
      announced at the Bouffes-Parisiens, or at the Delassements-Comiques.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already, before that time, Mlle. Lucienne, completely restored, had
      married Maxence Favoral.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of the five hundred thousand francs which were returned to her, she
      applied three hundred thousand to discharge the debts of her
      father-in-law, and with the rest she induced her husband to emigrate to
      America.&nbsp; Paris had become odious to both.
    </p>
    <p>
      Marius and Mlle. Gilberte, who has now become Marquise de Tregars, have
      taken up their residence at the Chateau de Tregars, three leagues from
      Quimper.&nbsp; They have been followed in their retreat by Mme. Favoral
      and by General Count de Villegre.
    </p>
    <p>
      The greater portion of his father&rsquo;s fortune, Marius had applied to pay off
      all the personal creditors of the former cashier of the Mutual Credit, all
      the trades-people, and also M. Chapelain, old man Desormeaux, and M. and
      Mme. Desclavettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      All that is left to the Marquis and Marquise de Tregars is some twenty
      thousand francs a year, and if they ever lose them, it will not be at the
      bourse.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Mutual Credit is quoted at 467.25!
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">





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