Chapter I
       "When I think," said Coleridge, "that every morning, in Paris alone,thirty thousand fellows wake up, and rise with the fixed and settledidea of appropriating other people's money, it is with renewed wonderthat every night, when I go home, I find my purse still in my pocket."And yet it is not those who simply aim to steal your portemonnaiewho are either the most dishonest or the most formidable.

To stand at the corner of some dark street, and rush upon the firstman that comes along, demanding, "Your money or your life," is but apoor business, devoid of all prestige, and long since given up tochivalrous natures.

A man must be something worse than a simpleton to still ply histrade on the high-roads, exposed to all sorts of annoyances on thepart of the gendarmes, when manufacturing and financial enterprisesoffer such a magnificently fertile field to the activity ofimaginative people.

And, in order to thoroughly understand the mode of proceeding inthis particular field, it is sufficient to open from time to time acopy of "The Police Gazette," and to read some trial, like that, forinstance, of one Lefurteux, ex-president of the Company for theDrainage and Improvement of the Orne Swamps.

This took place less than a month ago in one of the police-courts.

The Judge to the Accused - Your profession?

M.Lefurteux - President of the company.

Question - Before that what were you doing?

Answer - I speculated at the bourse.

Q - You had no means?

A - I beg your pardon: I was making money.

Q - And it was under such circumstances that you had the audacityto organize a company with a capital stock of three million offrancs, divided in shares of five hundred francs?

A - Having discovered an idea, I did not suppose that I was forbiddento work it up.

Q - What do you call an idea?

A - The idea of draining swamps, and making them productive.

Q - What swamps? Yours never had any existence, except in yourprospectus.

A - I expected to buy them as soon as my capital was paid in.

Q - And in the mean time you promised ten per cent to yourstockholders.

A-That's the least that draining operations ever pay.

Q - You have advertised?

A - Of course.

Q - To what extent?

A - To the extent of about sixty thousand francs.

Q - Where did you get the money?

A - I commenced with ten thousand francs, which a friend of mine hadlent me; then I used the funds as they came in.

9 - In other words, you made use of the money of your first dupes toattract others?

A - Many~people thought it was a good thing.

Q - Who? Those to whom you sent your prospectus with a plan of yourpretended swamps?

A - Excuse me. Others too.

Q - How much money did you ever receive?

A - About six hundred thousand francs, as the expert has stated.

Q - And you have spent the whole of the money?

A - Permit me? I have never applied to my personal wants any thingbeyond the salary which was allowed me by the By-laws.

Q - How is it, then, that, when you were arrested, there were onlytwelve hundred and fifty francs found in your safe, and that amounthad been sent you through the post-office that very morning? Whathas become of the rest?

A - The rest has been spent for the good of the company.

Q - Of course! You had a carriage?

A - It was allowed to me by Article 27 of the By-laws.

9 - For the good of the company too, I suppose.

A - Certainly. I was compelled to make a certain display. The headof an important company must endeavor to inspire confidence.

The Judge, with an Ironical Look - Was it also to inspire confidencethat you had a mistress, for whom you spent considerable sums ofmoney?

The Accused, in a Tone of Perfect Candor - Yes, sir.

After a pause of a few moments, the judge resumes,Q - Your offices were magnificent. They must have cost you a greatdeal to furnish.

A - On the contrary, sir, almost nothing. The furniture was allhired. You can examine the upholsterer.

The upholsterer is sent for, and in answer to the judge's questions,"What M. Lefurteux has stated," he says, "is true. My specialty isto hire office-fixtures for financial and other companies. I furnishevery thing, from the book-keepers' desks to the furniture for thepresident's private room: from the iron safe to the servant's livery.

In twenty-four hours, every thing is ready, and the subscribers cancome. As soon as a company is organized, like the one in question,the officers call on me, and, according to the magnitude of thecapital required, I furnish a more or less costly establishment. Ihave a good deal of experience, and I know just what's wanted.

When M. Lefurteux came to see me, I gauged his operation at a glance.

Three millions of capital, swamps in the Orne, shares of five hundredfrancs, small subscribers, anxious and noisy.

"'Very well,' I said to him, 'it's a six-months' job. Don't go intouseless expenses. Take reps for your private office: that's goodenough.'"The Judge, in a tone of Profound Surprise - You told him that?

The Upholsterer, in the Simple Accent of an Honest Man - Exactly asI am telling your Honor. He followed my advice; and I sent him redhot the furniture and fixtures which had been used by the RiverFishery Company, whose president had just been sent to prison forthree years.

When, after such revelations, renewed from week to week, withinstructive variations, purchasers may still be found for the sharesof the Tiffla Mines, the Bretoneche Lands, and the Forests ofFormanoid, is it to be wondered that the Mutual Credit Company foundnumerous subscribers?

It had been admirably started at that propitious hour of theDecember coup d'etat, when the first ideas of mutuality werebeginning to penetrate the financial world.

It had lacked neither capital nor powerful patronage at the start,and had been at once admitted to the honor of being quoted at thebourse.

Beginning business ostensibly as an accommodation bank formanufacturers and merchants, the Mutual Credit had had, for a numberof years, a well-determined specialty.

But gradually it had enlarged the circle of its operations, alteredits by-laws, changed its board of directors; and at the end theoriginal subscribers would have been not a little embarrassed totell what was the nature of its business, and from what sources itdrew its profits.

All they knew was, that it always paid respectable dividends; thattheir manager, M. de Thaller, was personally very rich; and thatthey were willing to trust him to steer clear of the code.

There were some, of course, who did not view things in quite sofavorable a light; who suggested that the dividends were suspiciouslylarge; that M. de Thaller spent too much money on his house, hiswife, his daughter, and his mistress.

One thing is certain, that the shares of the Mutual Credit Societywere much above par, and were quoted at 580 francs on that Saturday,when, after the closing of the bourse, the rumor had spread thatthe cashier. Vincent Favoral, had run off with twelve millions.

"What a haul!" thought, not without a feeling of envy, more thanone broker, who, for merely one-twelfth of that amount would havegayly crossed the frontier. It was almost an event in Paris.

Although such adventures are frequent enough, and not taken muchnotice of, in the present instance, the magnitude of the amountmore than made up for the vulgarity of the act.

Favoral was generally pronounced a very smart man; and some personsdeclared, that to take twelve millions could hardly be calledstealing.

The first question asked was,"Is Thaller in the operation? Was he in collusion with his cashier?""That's the whole question.""If he was, then the Mutual Credit is better off than ever:

otherwise, it is gone under.""Thaller is pretty smart.""That Favoral was perhaps more so still."This uncertainty kept up the price for about half an hour. But soonthe most disastrous news began to spread, brought, no one knewwhence or by whom; and there was an irresistible panic.

From 425, at which price it had maintained itself for a time, theMutual Credit fell suddenly to 300, then 200, and finally to 150francs.

Some friends of M. de Thaller, M. Costeclar, for instance, hadendeavored to keep up the market; but they had soon recognized thefutility of their efforts, and then they had bravely commenceddoing like the rest.

The next day was Sunday. From the early morning, it was reported,with the most circumstantial details, that the Baron de Thallerhad been arrested.

But in the evening this had been contradicted by people who hadgone to the races, and who had met there Mme. de Thaller and herdaughter, more brilliant than ever, very lively, and very talkative.

To the persons who went to speak to them,"My husband was unable to come," said the baroness. "He is busywith two of his clerks, looking over that poor Favoral's accounts.

It seems that they are in the most inconceivable confusion. Whowould ever have thought such a thing of a man who lived on bread andnuts? But he operated at the bourse; and he had organized, under afalse name, a sort of bank, in which he has very foolishly sunklarge sums of money.

And with a smile, as if all danger had been luckily averted,"Fortunately," she added, "the damage is not as great as has beenreported, and this time, again, we shall get off with a good fright."But the speeches of the baroness were hardly sufficient to quietthe anxiety of the people who felt in their coat-pockets theworthless certificates of Mutual Credit stock.

And the next day, Monday, as early as eight o'clock, they began toarrive in crowds to demand of M. de Thaller some sort of anexplanation.

They were there, at least a hundred, huddled together in thevestibule, on the stairs, and on the first landing, a prey to themost painful emotion and the most violent excitement; for they hadbeen refused admittance.

To all those who insisted upon going in, a tall servant in livery,standing before the door, replied invariably, "The office is notopen, M. de Thaller has not yet come."Whereupon they uttered such terrible threats and such loudimprecations, that the frightened concierge had run, and hid himselfat the very bottom of his lodge.

No one can imagine to what epileptic contortions the loss of moneycan drive an assemblage of men, who has not seen a meeting ofshareholders on the morrow of a great disaster, with their clinchedfists, their convulsed faces, their glaring eyes, and foaming lips.

They felt indignant at what had once been their delight. They laidthe blame of their ruin upon the splendor of the house, thesumptuousness of the stairs, the candelabras of the vestibule, thecarpets, the chairs every thing.

" And it is our money too," they cried, "that has paid for all that!"Standing upon a bench, a little short man was exciting transportsof indignation by describing the magnificence of the Baron deThaller's residence, where he had once had some dealings.

He had counted five carriages in the carriage-house, fifteen horsesin the stables, and Heaven knows how many servants.

He had never been inside the apartments, but he had visited thekitchen; and he declared that he had been dazzled by the numberand brightness of the saucepans, ranged in order of size overthe furnace.

Gathered in a group under the vestibule, the most sensible deploredtheir rash confidence.

"That's the way," concluded one, "with all these adventurous affairs.""That's a fact. There's nothing, after all, like government bonds.""Or a first mortgage on good property, with subrogation of the wife'srights."But what exasperated them, all was not to be admitted to the presenceof M. de Thaller, and to see that servant mounting guard beforethe door.

"What impudence," they growled, "to leave us on the stairs! - we whoare the masters, after all.""Who knows where M. de Thaller may be?""He is hiding, of course.""No matter: I will see him," clamored a big fat man, with abrick-colored face, "if I shouldn't stir from here for a week.""You'll see nothing at all," giggled his neighbor. "Do you supposethey don't have back-stairs and private entrances in this infernalshop?""Ah! if I believed any thing of the kind," exclaimed the big manin a voice trembling with passion. "I'd soon break in some of thesedoors: it isn't so hard, after all."Already he was gazing at the servant with an alarming air, when anold gentleman with a discreet look, stepped up to him, and inquired,"Excuse me, sir: how many shares have you?""Three," answered the man with the brick-colored face.

The other sighed.

"I have two hundred and fifty," he said. "That's why, being atleast as interested as yourself in not losing every thing, I beg ofyou to indulge in no violent proceedings."There was no need of further speaking.

The door which the servant was guarding flew open. A clerk appeared,and made sign that he wished to speak.

"Gentlemen," he began, "M. de Thaller has just come; but he is justnow engaged with the examining judge."Shouts having drowned his voice, he withdrew precipitately.

"If the law gets its finger in," murmured the discreet gentleman,"good-by!""That's a fact," said another. "But we will have the preciousadvantage of hearing that dear baron condemned to one year'simprisonment, and a fine of fifty francs. That's the regular rate.

He wouldn't get off so cheap, if he had stolen a loaf of bread froma baker.""Do you believe that story about the judge?" interrupted rudely thebig man.

They had to believe it, when they saw him appear, followed by acommissary of police and a porter, carrying on his back a load ofbooks and papers. They stood aside to let them pass; but there wasno time to make any comments, as another clerk appeared immediatelywho said,"M. de Thaller is at your command, gentlemen. Please walk in."There was then a terrible jamming and pushing to see who would getfirst into the directors' room, which stood wide open.

M. de Thaller was standing against the mantel-piece, neither palernor more excited than usual, but like a man who feels sure ofhimself and of his means of action. As soon as silence was restored,"First of all, gentlemen," he began, "I must tell you that the boardof directors is about to meet, and that a general meeting of thestockholders will be called."Not a murmur. As at the touch of a magician's wand, the dispositionsof the shareholders seemed to have changed.

"I have nothing new to inform you of," he went on. "What happensis a misfortune, but not a disaster. The thing to do was to savethe company; and I had first thought of calling for funds.""Well," said two or three timid voices, "If it was absolutelynecessary -""But there is no need of it.""Ah, ah!""And I can manage to carry every thing through by adding to ourreserve fund my own personal fortune."This time the hurrahs and the bravos drowned the voice.

M. de Thaller received them like a man who deserves them, and,more slowly,"Honor commanded it," he continued. "I confess it, gentlemen, thewretch who has so basely deceived us had my entire confidence. Youwill understand my apparent blindness when you know with whatinfernal skill he managed."Loud imprecations burst on all sides against Vincent Favoral. Butthe president of the Mutual Credit proceeded,"For the present, all I have to ask of you is to keep cool, andcontinue to give me your confidence.""Yes, yes!

"The panic of night before last was but a stock-gambling manoeuvre,organized by rival establishments, who were in hopes of taking ourclients away from us. They will be disappointed, gentlemen. Wewill triumphantly demonstrate our soundness; and we shall come outof this trial more powerful than ever."It was all over. M. de Thaller understood his business. Theyoffered him a vote of thanks. A smile was beaming upon the samefaces that were a moment before contracted with rage.

One stockholder alone did not seem to share the general enthusiasm:

he was no other than our old friend. M. Chapelain, the ex-lawyer.

"That fellow, Thaller, is just capable of getting himself out ofthe scrape," he grumbled. "I must tell Maxence."
Chapter II
We have every species of courage in France, and to a superiordegree, except that of braving public opinion. Few men would havedared, like Marius de Tregars, to offer their name to the daughterof a wretch charged with embezzlement and forgery, and that at thevery moment when the scandal of the crime was at its height. But,when Marius judged a thing good and just, he did it withouttroubling himself in the least about what others would think. Andso his mere presence in the Rue. St. Gilles had brought back hopeto its inmates. Of his designs he had said but a word, - "I havethe means of helping you: I mean, by marrying Gilberte, to acquirethe right of doing so."But that word had been enough.. Mme. Favoral and Maxence hadunderstood that the man who spoke thus was one of those cool andresolute men whom nothing disconcerts or discourages, and who knowshow to make the best of the most perilous situations.

And, when he had retired with the Count de Villegre,"I don't know what he will do," said Mlle. Gilberte to her motherand her brother: "but he will certainly do something; and, if itis humanly possible to succeed, he will succeed."And how proudly she spoke thus! The assistance of Marius was thejustification of her conduct. She trembled with joy at the thoughtthat it would, perhaps, be to the man whom she had alone and boldlyselected, that her family would owe their salvation. Shaking hishead, and making allusion to events of which he kept the secret,"I really believe," approved Maxence, "that, to reach the enemiesof our father, M. de Tregars possesses some powerful means; and whatthey are we will doubtless soon know, since I have an appointmentwith him for to-morrow morning."It came at last, that morrow, which he had awaited with an impatiencethat neither his mother nor his sister could suspect. And towardshalf-past nine he was ready to go out, when M. Chapelain came in.

Still irritated by the scenes he had just witnessed at the MutualCredit office, the old lawyer had a most lugubrious countenance.

"I bring bad news," he began. "I have just seen the Baron deThaller."He had said so much the day before about having nothing more to dowith it, that. Maxence could not repress a gesture of surprise.

"Oh! it isn't alone that I saw him," added M. Chapelain, "buttogether with at least a hundred stockholders of the Mutual Credit.""They are going to do something, then?""No: they only came near doing something. You should have seen themthis morning! They were furious; they threatened to break everything; they wanted M. de Thaller's blood. It was terrible. But M.

de Thaller condescended to receive them; and they became at once asmeek as lambs. It is perfectly simple. What do you supposestockholders can do, no matter how exasperated they may be, whentheir manager tells them?

"'Well, yes, it's a fact you have been robbed, and your money is ingreat jeopardy; but if you make any fuss, if you complain thus, allis sure to be lost.' Of course, the stockholders keep quiet. It isa well-known fact that a business which has to be liquidated throughthe courts is gone; and swindled stockholders fear the law almost asmuch as the swindling manager. A single fact will make the situationclearer to you. Less than an hour ago, M. de Thaller's stockholders,offered him money to make up the loss."And, after a moment of silence,"But this is not all. Justice has interfered; and M. de Thallerspent the morning with an examining-magistrate.""Well?""Well, I have enough experience to affirm that you must not relyany more upon justice than upon the stockholders. Unless there areproofs so evident that they are not likely to exist, M. de Thallerwill not be disturbed.""Oh!""Why? Because, my dear, in all those big financial operations,justice, as much as possible, remains blind. Not through corruptionor any guilty connivance, but through considerations of publicinterest. If the manager was prosecuted he would be condemned to afew years' imprisonment; but his stockholders would at the same timebe condemned to lose what they have left; so that the victims wouldbe more severely punished than the swindler. And so, powerless,justice does not interfere. And that's what accounts for theimpudence and impunity of all these high-flown rascals who go aboutwith their heads high, their pockets filled with other people's money,and half a dozen decorations at their button-hole.""And what then?" asked Maxence.

"Then it is evident that your father is lost. Whether or not hedid have accomplices, he will be alone sacrificed. A scapegoat isneeded to be slaughtered on the altar of credit. Well, they willgive that much satisfaction to the swindled stockholders. Thetwelve millions will be lost; but the shares of the Mutual Creditwill go up, and public morality will be safe."Somewhat moved by the old lawyer's tone,"What do you advise me to do, then?" inquired Maxence.

"The very reverse of what, on the first impulse, I advised you todo. That's why I have come. I told you yesterday, 'Make a row,act, scream. It is impossible that your father be alone guilty;attack M. de Thaller.' To-day, after mature deliberation, I say,'Keep quiet, hide yourself, let the scandal drop.'"A bitter smile contracted Maxence's lips.

"It is not very brave advice you are giving me there," he said.

"It is a friend's advice, - the advice of a man who knows lifebetter than yourself. Poor young man, you are not aware of theperil of certain struggles. All knaves are in league and sustaineach other. To attack one is to attack them all. You have noidea of the occult influences of which a man can dispose whohandles millions, and who, in exchange for a favor, has always abonus to offer, or a good operation to propose. If at least Icould see any chance of success! But you have not one. You nevercan reach M. de Thaller, henceforth backed by his stockholders.

You will only succeed in making an enemy whose hostility will weighupon your whole life.""What does it matter?"M. Chapelain shrugged his shoulders.

"If you were alone," he went on, "I would say as you do, 'What doesit matter?' But you are no longer alone: you have your mother andsister to take care of. You must think of food before thinking ofvengeance. How much a month do you earn? Two hundred francs! Itis not much for three persons. I would never suggest that youshould solicit M. de Thaller's protection; but it would be well,perhaps, to let him know that he has nothing to fear from you. Whyshouldn't you do so when you take his fifteen thousand francs backto him? If, as every thing indicates, he has been your father'saccomplice, he will certainly be touched by the distress of yourfamily, and, if he has any heart left, he will manage to make youfind, without appearing to have any thing to do with it, a situationbetter suited to your wants. I know that such a, step must be verypainful; but I repeat it, my dear child, you can no longer think ofyourself alone; and what one would not do for himself, one does fora mother and a sister."Maxence said nothing. Not that he was in any way affected by theworthy old lawyer's speech; but he was asking himself whether ornot he should confide to him the events which in the past twenty-fourhours had so suddenly modified the situation. He did not feelauthorized to do so.

Marius de Tregars had not bound him to secrecy; but an indiscretionmight have fatal consequences. And, after a moment of thought,"I am obliged to you, sir," he replied evasively, "for the interestyou have manifested in our welfare; and we shall always greatlyprize your advice. But for the present you must allow me to leaveyou with my mother and sister. I have an appointment with - afriend."And, without waiting for an answer, he slipped M. de Thaller'sfifteen thousand francs in his pocket, and hurried out. It was notto M. de Tregars that he went first, however, but to the Hotel desFolies.

"Mlle. Lucienne has just come home with a big bundle," said Mme.

Fortin to Maxence, with her pleasantest smile, as soon as she hadseen him emerge from the shades of the corridor.

For the past twenty-four hours, the worthy hostess had been watchingfor her guest, in the hopes of obtaining some information which shemight communicate to the neighbors. Without even condescending toanswer, a piece of rudeness at which she felt much hurt, he crossedthe narrow court of the hotel at a bound, and started up stairs.

Mlle. Lucienne's room was open. He walked in, and, still out ofbreath from his rapid ascension,"I am glad to find you in," he exclaimed. The young girl was busy,arranging upon her bed a dress of very light colored silk, trimmedwith ruches and lace, an overdress to match, and a bonnet ofwonderful shape, loaded with the most brilliant feathers and flowers.

"You see what brings me here," she replied. "I came home to dress.

At two o'clock the carriage is coming to take me to the bois, whereI am to exhibit this costume, certainly the most ridiculous that VanKlopen has yet made me wear."A smile flitted upon Maxence's lips.

"Who knows," said he, "if this is not the last time you will haveto perform this odious task? Ah, my friend! what events have takenplace since I last saw you!""Fortunate ones?""You will judge for yourself."He closed the door carefully, and, returning to Mlle. Lucienne,"Do you know the Marquis de Tregars?" he asked.

"No more than you do. It was yesterday, at the commissary of police,that I first heard his name.""Well, before a month, M. de Tregars will be Mlle. Gilberte Favoral'shusband.""Is it possible?" exclaimed Mlle. Lucienne with a look of extremesurprise.

But, instead of answering,"You told me," resumed Maxence, "that once, in a day of supremedistress, you had applied to Mme. de Thaller for assistance, whereasyou were actually entitled to an indemnity for having been run overand seriously hurt by her carriage.""That is true.

"Whilst you were in the vestibule, waiting for an answer to yourletter, 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.

That is true too.""This behavior of M. de Thaller always remained an enigma to you."An inexplicable one.""Well, I think that I can explain it to you now.""You?"Lowering his voice; for he knew that at the Hotel des Folies therewas always to fear some indiscreet ear.

"Yes, I," he answered; "and for the reason that yesterday, when M.

de Tregars appeared in my mother's parlor, I could not suppress anexclamation of surprise, for the reason, Lucienne, that, betweenMarius de Tregars and yourself, there is a resemblance with which itis impossible not to be struck."Mlle. Lucienne had become very pale.

"What do you suppose, then?" she asked.

"I believe, my friend, that we are very near penetrating at once themystery of your birth and the secret of the hatred that has pursuedyou since the day when you first set your foot in M. de Thaller'shouse."Admirably self-possessed as Mlle. Lucienne usually was, thequivering of her lips betrayed at this moment the intensity of heremotion.

After more than a minute of profound meditaton,"The commissary of police," she said, "has never told me his hopes,except in vague terms. He has told me enough, however, to make methink that he has already had suspicions similar to yours.""Of course! Would he otherwise have questioned me on the subjectof M. de Tregars?"Mlle. Lucienne shook her head.

"And yet," she said, "even after your explanation, it is in vainthat I seek why and how I can so far disturb M. de Thaller's securitythat he wishes to do away with me."Maxence made a gesture of superb indifference. "I confess," hesaid, "that I don't see it either. But what matters it? Withoutbeing able to explain why, I feel that the Baron de Thaller is thecommon enemy, yours, mine, my father's, and M. de Tregars'. Andsomething tells me, that, with M. de Tregars' help, we shall triumph.

You would share my confidence, Lucienne, if you knew him. There isa man! and my sister has made no vulgar choice. If he has told mymother that he has the means of serving her, it is because hecertainly has."He stopped, and, after a moment of silence, "Perhaps," he went on"the commissary of police might readily understand what I only dimlysuspect; but, until further orders, we are forbidden to have recourseto him. it is not my own secret that I have just told you; and, ifI have confided it to you, it is because I feel that it is a greatpiece of good fortune for us; and there is no joy for me, that youdo not share."Mlle. Lucienne wanted to ask many more particulars. But, looking athis watch,"Half-past ten!" he exclaimed, "and M. de Tregars waiting for me."And he started off, repeating once more to the young girl,"I will see you to-night: until then, good hope and good courage.

In the court, two ill-looking men were talking with the Fortins.

But it happened often to the Fortins to talk with ill-looking men:

so he took no notice of them, ran out to the Boulevard, and jumpinginto a cab,"Rue Lafitte 70," he cried to the driver, "I pay the trip, - threefrancs."When Marius de Tregars had finally determined to compel the boldrascals who had swindled his father to disgorge, he had taken inthe Rue Lafitte a small, plainly-furnished apartment on the entresol,a fit dwelling for the man of action, the tent in which he takesshelter on the eve of battle; and he had to wait upon him an oldfamily servant, whom he had found out of place, and who had for himthat unquestioning and obstinate devotion peculiar to Breton servants.

It was this excellent man who came at the first stroke of the bellto open the door. And, as soon as Maxence had told him his name,"Ah!" he exclaimed, "my master has been expecting you with aterrible impatience."It was so true, that M. de Tregars himself appeared at the samemoment, and, leading Maxence into the little room which he usedas a study,"Do you know," he said whilst shaking him cordially by the hand,"that you are almost an hour behind time?"Maxence had, among others the detestable fault, sure indication ofa weak nature, of being never willing to be in the wrong, and ofhaving always an excuse ready. On this occasion, the excuse wastoo tempting to allow it to escape; and quick he began telling howhe had been detained by M. Chapelain, and how he had heard from theold lawyer what had taken place at the Mutual Credit office.

"I know the scene already," said M. de Tregars. And, fixing uponMaxence a look of friendly raillery,"Only," he added, "I attributed your want of punctuality to anotherreason, a very pretty one this time, a brunette."A purple cloud spread over Maxence's cheeks.

"What!" he stammered, "you know?""I thought you must have been in haste to go and tell a person ofyour acquaintance why, when you saw me yesterday, you uttered anexclamation of surprise."This time Maxence lost all countenance.

"What," he said, "you know too?"M. de Tregars smiled.

"I know a great many things, my dear M. Maxence," he replied; "andyet, as I do not wish to be suspected of witchcraft, I will tellyou where all my science comes from. At the time when your housewas closed to me, after seeking for a long time some means ofhearing from your sister, I discovered at last that she had forher music-teacher an old Italian, the Signor Gismondi Pulei. Iapplied to him for lessons, and became his pupil. But, in thebeginning, he kept looking at me with singular persistence. Iinquired the reason; and he told me that he had once had for aneighbor, at the Batignolles, a young working-girl, who resembledme prodigiously. I paid no attention to this circumstance, andhad, in fact, completely forgotten it; when, quite lately, Gismondotold me that he had just seen his former neighbor again, and, what'smore, arm in arm with you, and that you both entered together theHotel des Folies. As he insisted again upon that famous resemblance,I determined to see for myself. I watched, and I stated, de visa,that my old Italian was not quite wrong, and that I had, perhaps,just found the weapon I was looking for."His eyes staring, and his mouth gaping, Maxence looked like a manfallen from the clouds.

"Ah, you did watch!" he said.

M. de Tregars snapped his fingers with a gesture of indifference.

"It is certain," he replied, "that, for a month past, I have beendoing a singular business. But it is not by remaining on my chair,preaching against the corruption of the age, that I can attain myobject. The end justifies the means. Honest men are very silly,I think, to allow the rascals to get the better of them under thesentimental pretext that they cannot condescend to make use of theirweapons."But an honorable scruple was tormenting Maxence.

"And you think yourself well-informed, sir?" he inquired. "Youknow Lucienne?""Enough to know that she is not what she seems to be, and whatalmost any other would have been in her place; enough to be certain,that, if she shows herself two or three times a week riding aroundthe lake, it is not for her pleasure; enough, also, to be persuaded,that, despite appearances, she is not your mistress, and that, farfrom having disturbed your life, and compromised your prospects,she set you back into the right road, at the moment, perhaps, whenyou were about to branch off into the wrong path."Marius de Tregars was assuming fantastic proportions in the mind ofMaxence.

"How did you manage," he stammered, "thus to find out the truth?""With time and money, every thing is possible.""But you must have had grave reasons to take so much trouble aboutLucienne.""Very grave ones, indeed.""You know that she was basely forsaken when quite a child?""Perfectly.""And that she was brought up through charity ""By some poor gardeners at Louveciennes: yes, I know all that."Maxence was trembling with joy. It seemed to him that his mostdazzling hopes were about to be realized. Seizing the hands ofMarius de Tregars,"Ah, you know Lucienne's family!" he exclaimed. But M. de Tregarsshook his head.

"I have suspicions," he answered; "but, up to this time, I havesuspicions only, I assure you.""But that family does exist; since they have already, at threedifferent times, attempted to get rid of the poor girl.""I think as you do; but we must have proofs: and we shall find some.

You may rest assured of that."Here he was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.

The old servant came in, and advancing to the centre of the roomwith a mysterious look,"Madame Ia Baronne de Thaller," he said in a low voice.

Marius de Tregars started violently.

"Where?" he asked.

"She is down stairs in her carriage," replied the servant. "Herfootman is here, asking whether monsieur is at home, and whethershe can come up.""Can she possibly have heard any thing?" murmured M. de Tregarswith a deep frown. And, after a moment of reflection,"So much the more reason to see her," he added quickly. "Let hercome. Request her to do me the honor of coming up stairs."This last incident completely upset all Maxence's ideas. He nolonger knew what to imagine.

"Quick," said M. de Tregars to him: "quick, disappear; and, whateveryou may hear, not a word!"And he pushed him into his bedroom, which was divided from the studyby a mere tapestry curtain. It was time; for already in the nextroom could be heard a great rustling of silk and starched petticoats.

Mme. de Thaller appeared.

She was still the same coarsely beautiful woman, who, sixteen yearsbefore, had sat at Mme. Favoral's table. Time had passed withoutscarcely touching her with the tip of his wing. Her flesh hadretained its dazzling whiteness; her hair, of a bluish black, itsmarvelous opulence; her lips, their carmine hue; her eyes, theirlustre. Her figure only had become heavier, her features lessdelicate; and her neck and throat had lost their undulations, andthe purity of their outlines.

But neither the years, nor the millions, nor the intimacy of themost fashionable women, had been able to give her those qualitieswhich cannot be acquired, - grace, distinction, and taste.

If there was a woman accustomed to dress, it was she: a splendiddry-goods store could have been set up with the silks and thevelvets, the satins and cashmeres, the muslins, the laces, and allthe known tissues, that had passed over her shoulders.

Her elegance was quoted and copied. And yet there was about heralways and under all circumstances, an indescribable flavor of theparvenue. Her gestures had remained trivial; her voice, common andvulgar.

Throwing herself into an arm-chair, and bursting into a loud laugh,"Confess, my dear marquis," she said, "that you are terriblyastonished to see me thus drop upon you, without warning, at eleveno'clock in the morning.""I feel, above all, terribly flattered," replied M. de Tregars,smiling.

With a rapid glance she was surveying the little study, the modestfurniture, the papers piled on the desk, as if she had hoped thatthe dwelling would reveal to her something of the master's ideasand projects.

"I was just coming from Van Klopen's," she resumed; "and passingbefore your house, I took a fancy to come in and stir you up; andhere I am."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; andyet, to any one who had known him well, a certain contraction of theeyelids would have revealed a serious annoyance and an intenseanxiety.

"How is the baron?" he inquired.

"As sound as an oak," answered Mme. de Thaller, "notwithstanding allthe cares and the troubles, which you can well imagine. By the way,you know what has happened to us?""I read in the papers that the cashier of the Mutual Credit haddisappeared.""And it is but too true. That wretch Favoral has gone off with anenormous amount of money.""Twelve millions, I heard.""Something like it. A man who had the reputation of a saint too; apuritan. Trust people's faces after that! I never liked him, Iconfess. But M. de Thaller had a perfect fancy for him; and, whenhe had spoken of his Favoral, there was nothing more to say. Anyway, he has cleared out, leaving his family without means. A veryinteresting family, it seems, too, - a wife who is goodness itself,and a charming daughter: at least, so says Costeclar, who, is verymuch in love with her."M. de Tregars' countenance remained perfectly indifferent, likethat of a man who is hearing about persons and things in which hedoes not take the slightest interest.

Mme. de Thaller noticed this.

But it isn't to tell you all this," she went on, "that I came up.

It is an interested motive brought me. We have, some of my friendsand myse1f, organized a lottery - a work of charity, my dear marquis,and quite patriotic - for the benefit of the Alsatians, I have lots oftickets to dispose of; and I've thought of you to help me out."More smiling than ever,"I am at your orders, madame," answered Marius, "but, in mercy,spare me."She took out some tickets from a small shell pocket-book.

"Twenty, at ten francs," she said. "It isn't too much, is it?"It is a great deal for my modest resources."She pocketed the ten napoleons which he handed her, and, in a toneof ironical compassion,"Are you so very poor, then?" she asked.

"Why, I am neither banker nor broker, you know."She had risen, and was smoothing the folds of her dress.

"Well, my dear marquis," she resumed, "it is certainly not me whowill pity you. When a man of your age, and with your name, remainspoor, it is his own fault. Are there no rich heiresses?""I confess that I haven't tried to find one yet." She looked athim straight in the eyes, and then suddenly bursting out laughing,"Look around you," she said, "and I am sure you'll not be longdiscovering a beautiful young girl, very blonde, who would bedelighted to become Marquise de Tregars, and who would bring inher apron a dowry of twelve or fifteen hundred thousand francs ingood securities, - securities which the Favorals can't carry off.

Think well, and then come to see us. You know that M. de Thalleris very fond of you; and, after all the trouble we have been having,you owe us a visit."Whereupon she went out, M. de Tregars, going down to escort her toher carriage. But as he came up,"Attention!" he cried to Maxence; "for it's very evident that theThallers have wind of something."
Chapter III
It was a revelation, that visit of Mme. de Thaller's; and there wasno need of very much perspicacity to guess her anxiety beneath herbursts of laughter, and to understand that it was a bargain she hadcome to propose. It was evident, therefore, that Marius de Tregarsheld within his hands the principal threads of that complicatedintrigue which had just culminated in that robbery of twelvemillions. But would he be able to make use of them? What were hisdesigns, and his means of action? That is what Maxence could not inany way conjecture.

He had no time to ask questions.

"Come," said M. Tregars, whose agitation was manifest, - " come, letus breakfast: we have not a moment to lose."And, whilst his servant was bringing in his modest meal,"I am expecting M. d'Escajoul," he said. "Show him in as soon ashe comes."Retired as he had lived from the financial world, Maxence had yetheard the name of Octave d'Escajoul.

Who has not seen him, happy and smiling, his eye bright, and his lipruddy, notwithstanding his fifty years, walking on the sunny sideof the Boulevard, with his royal blue jacket and his eternal whitevest? He is passionately fond of everything that tends to make lifepleasant and easy; dines at Bignon's, or the Caf e Anglais; playsbaccarat at the dub with extraordinary luck; has the most comfortableapartment and the most elegant coupe in all Paris. With all this,he is pleased to declare that he is the happiest of men, and iscertainly one of the most popular; for he cannot walk three blockson the Boulevard without lifting his hat at least fifty times, andshaking hands twice as often.

And when any one asks, "What does he do?" the invariable answer is,"Why he operates."To explain what sort of operations, would not be, perhaps, veryeasy. In the world of rogues, there are some rogues more formidableand more skillful than the rest, who always manage to escape the handof the law. They are not such fools as to operate in person, - notthey! They content themselves with watching their friends andcomrades. If a good haul is made, at once they appear and claimtheir share. And, as they always threaten to inform, there is nohelp for it but to let them pocket the clearest of the profit.

Well, in a more elevated sphere, in the world of speculation, it isprecisely that lucrative and honorable industry which M. d'Escajoulcarries on. Thoroughly master of his ground, possessing a superiorscent and an imperturbable patience, always awake, and continuallyon the watch, he never operates unless he is sure to win.

And the day when the manager of some company has violated hischarter or stretched the law a little too far, he may be sure tosee M. d'Escajoul appear, and ask for some little - advantages,and proffer, in exchange, the most thorough discretion, and evenhis kind offices.

Two or three of his friends have heard him say,"Who would dare to blame me? It's very moral, what I am doing."Such is the man who came in, smiling, just as Maxence and Marius deTregars had sat down at the table. M. de Tregars rose to receive him.

"You will breakfast with us?" he said.

"Thank you," answered M. d'Escajoul. "I breakfasted precisely ateleven, as usual. Punctuality is a politeness which a man owes tohis stomach. But I will accept with pleasure a drop of that oldCognac which you offered me the other evening."He took a seat; and the valet brought him a glass, which he set onthe edge of the table. Then,"I have just seen our man," he said.

Maxence understood that he was referring to M. de Thaller.

"Well?" inquired M. de Tregars.

"Impossible to get any thing out of him. I turned him over andover, every way. Nothing!""Indeed!""It's so; and you know if I understand the business. But what canyou say to a man who answers you all the time, 'The matter is inthe hands of the law; experts have been named; I have nothing tofear from the most minute investigations'?"By the look which Marius de Tregars kept riveted upon M. d'Escajoul,it was easy to see that his confidence in him was not without limits.

He felt it, and, with an air of injured innocence,"Do you suspect me, by chance," he said, "to have allowed myself tobe hoodwinked by Thaller?"And as M. de Tregars said nothing, which was the most eloquent ofanswers,"Upon my word," he insisted, "you are wrong to doubt me. Was ityou who came after me? No. It was I, who, hearing through Marcoletthe history of your fortune, came to tell you, 'Do you want to knowa way of swamping Thaller?' And the reasons I had to wish thatThaller might be swamped: I have them still. He trifled with me,he 'sold' me, and he must suffer for it; for, if it came to be knownthat I could be taken in with impunity, it would be all over with mycredit."After a moment of silence,"Do you believe, then," asked M. de Tregars, "that M. de Thaller isinnocent?""Perhaps.""That would be curious.""Or else his measures are so well taken that he has absolutelynothing to fear. If Favoral takes everything upon himself, whatcan they say to the other? If they have acted in collusion, thething has been prepared for a long time; and, before commencingto fish, they must have troubled the water so well, that justicewill be unable to see anything in it.""And you see no one who could help us?""Favoral -"To Maxence's great surprise, M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.

"That one is gone," he said; "and, were he at hand, it is quiteevident that if he was in collusion with M. de Thaller, he wouldnot speak.""Of course.""That being the case, what can we do?""Wait."M. de Tregars made a gesture of discouragement.

"I might as well give up the fight, then," he said, "and try tocompromise.""Why so? We don't know what may happen. Keep quiet, be patient;I am here, and I am looking out for squalls."He got up and prepared to leave.

"You have more experience than I have," said M. de Tregars; "and,since that's your opinion:

M. d'Escajoul had resumed all his good humor.

"Very well, then, it's understood," he said, pressing M. de Tregars'

hand. "I am watching for both of us; and if I see a chance, I comeat once, and you act."But the outer door had hardly closed, when suddenly the countenanceof Marius de Tregars changed. Shaking the hand which M. d'Escajoulhad just touched, - "Pouah! " he said with a look of thoroughdisgust, - "pouch!"And noticing Maxence's look of utter surprise,"Don't you understand," he said, "that this old rascal has been sentto me by Thaller to feel my intentions, and mislead me by falseinformation? I had scented him, fortunately; and, if either one ofus is dupe of the other, I have every reason to believe that it willnot be me."They had finished their breakfast. M. de Tregars called his servant.

"Have you been for a carriage? " he asked.

"It is at the door, sir.

"Well, then, come along."Maxence had the good sense not to over-estimate himself. Perfectlyconvinced that he could accomplish nothing alone, he was firmlyresolved to trust blindly to Marius de Tregars.

He followed him, therefore; and it was only after the carriage hadstarted, that he ventured to ask,"Where are we going?""Didn't you hear me," replied M. de Tregars, "order the driver totake us to the court-house?""I beg your pardon; but what I wish to know is, what we are goingto do there?""You are going, my dear friend, to ask an audience of the judge whohas your father's case in charge, and deposit into his hands thefifteen thousand francs you have in your pocket.""What! You wish me to -""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. We are in a position wherenothing should be neglected; and that money may prove an indication."But they had arrived. M. de Tregars guided Maxence through thelabyrinth of corridors of the building, until he came to a longgallery, at the entrance of which an usher was seated reading anewspaper.

"M. Barban d'Avranchel?" inquired M. de Tregars.

"He is in his office." replied the usher.

"Please ask him if he would receive an important deposition in theFavoral case."The usher rose somewhat reluctantly, and, while he was gone,"You will go in alone," said M. de Tregars to Maxence. "I shallnot appear; and it is important that my name should not even bepronounced. But, above all, try and remember even the mostinsignificant words of the judge; for, upon what he tells you, Ishall regulate my conduct."The usher returned.

"M. d'Avranchel will receive you," he said. And, leading Maxenceto the extremity of the gallery, he opened a small door, andpushed him in, saying at the same time,That is it, sir: walk in."It was a small room, with a low ceiling, and poorly furnished. Thefaded curtains and threadbare carpet showed plainly that more thanone judge had occupied it, and that legions of accused criminalshad passed through it. In front of a table, two men - one old, thejudge; the other young, the clerk - were signing and classifyingpapers. These papers related to the Favoral case, and were allindorsed in large letters: Mutual Credit Company.

As soon as Maxence appeared, the judge rose, and, after measuringhim with a clear and cold look:

"Who are you?" he interrogated.

In a somewhat husky voice, Maxence stated his name and surname.

"Ah! you are Vincent Favoral's son," interrupted the judge. "Andit was you who helped him escape through the window? I was goingto send you a summons this very day; but, since you are here, somuch the better. You have something important to communicate, Ihave been told."Very few people, even among the most strictly honest, can overcomea certain unpleasant feeling when, having crossed the threshold ofthe palace of justice, they find themselves in presence of a judge.

More than almost any one else, Maxence was likely to be accessibleto that vague and inexplicable feeling; and it was with an effortthat he answered,"On Saturday evening, the Baron de Thaller called at our house afew minutes before the commissary. After loading my father withreproaches, he invited him to leave the country; and, in order tofacilitate his flight, he handed him these fifteen thousand francs.

My father declined to accept them; and, at the moment of parting,he recommended to me particularly to return them to M. de Thaller.

I thought it best to return them to you, sir.""Why?""Because I wished the fact known to you of the money having beenoffered and refused."M. Barban d'Avranchel was quietly stroking his whiskers, once of abright red, but now almost entirely white.

"Is this an insinuation against the manager of the Mutual Credit?"he asked.

Maxence looked straight at him; and, in a tone which affirmedprecisely the reverse,"I accuse no one,'," he said.

"I must tell you,"' resumed the judge, "that M. de Thaller hashimself informed me of this circumstance. When he called at yourhouse, he was ignorant, as yet, of the extent of the embezzlements,and was in hopes of being able to hush up the affair. That's whyhe wished his cashier to start for Belgium. This system ofhelping criminals to escape the just punishment of their crimes isto be bitterly deplored; but it is quite the habit of your financialmagnates, who prefer sending some poor devil of am employe to hanghimself abroad than run the risk of compromising their credit byconfessing that they have been robbed."Maxence might have had a great deal to say; but M. de Tregars hadrecommenced him the most extreme reserve. He remained silent.

"On the other hand," resumed the judge, "the refusal to accept themoney so generously offered does not speak in favor of VincentFavoral. He was well aware, when he left, that it would require agreat deal of money to reach the frontier, escape pursuit, and hidehimself abroad; and, if he refused the fifteen thousand francs, itmust have been because he was well provided for already."Tears of shame and rage started from Maxence's eyes "I am certain,sir," he exclaimed, "that my father went off without a sou.""What has become of the millions, then?" he asked coldly.

Maxence hesitated. Why not mention his suspicions? He dared not.

"My father speculated at the bourse," he stammered. "And he led ascandalous conduct, keeping up, away from home, a style of livingwhich must have absorbed immense sums.""We knew nothing of it, sir; and our first suspicions were arousedby what the commissary of police told us."The judge insisted no more; and in a tone which indicated that hisquestion was a mere matter of form, and he attached but littleimportance to the answer,"You have no news from your father?" he asked.

"None whatever.""And you have no idea where he has gone?""None in the least."M. d'Avranchel had already resumed his seat at the table, and wasagain busy with his papers.

"You may retire," he said. You will be notified if I need you."Maxence felt much discouraged when he joined M. de Tregars at theentrance of the gallery.

"The judge is convinced of M. de Thaller's entire innocence," hesaid.

But as soon as he had narrated, with a fidelity that did honor tohis memory, all that had just occurred,"Nothing is lost yet," declared M. de Tregars. And, taking fromhis pocket the bill for two trunks, which had been found in M.

Favoral's portfolio,"There," he said, "we shall know our fate."
Chapter IV
M. de Tregars and Maxence were in luck. They had a good driver anda fair horse; and in twenty minutes they were at the trunk store.

As soon as the cab stopped,"Well," exclaimed M. de Tregars, "I suppose it has to be done."And, with the look of a man who has made up his mind to do somethingwhich is extremely repugnant to him, he jumped out, and, followedby Maxence, entered the shop.

"It was a modest establishment; and the people who kept it, husbandand wife, seeing two customers coming in, rushed to meet them, withthat welcoming smile which blossoms upon the lips of every Parisianshopkeeper.

"What will you have, gentlemen?"And, with wonderful volubility, they went on enumerating everyarticle which they had for sale in their shop, - from the"indispensable-necessary," containing seventy-seven pieces of solidsilver, and costing four thousand francs, down to the humblestcarpet-bag at thirty-nine cents.

But Marius de Tregars interrupted them as soon as he could get anopportunity, and, showing them their bill,"It was here, wasn't it," he inquired, "that the two trunks werebought which are charged in this bill?""Yes, sir," answered simultaneously both husband and wife.

"When were they delivered?""Our porter went to deliver them, less than two hours after theywere bought.""Where?"By this time the shopkeepers were beginning to exchange uneasy looks.

"Why do you ask?" inquired the woman in a tone which indicated thatshe had the settled intention not to answer, unless for good andvalid reason.

To obtain the simplest information is not always as easy as mightbe supposed. The suspicion of the Parisian tradesman is easilyaroused; and, as his head is stuffed with stories of spies androbbers, as soon as he is questioned he becomes as dumb as an oyster.

But M. de Tregars had foreseen the difficulty:

"I beg you to believe, madame," he went on, "that my questions arenot dictated by an idle curiosity. Here are the facts. A relativeof ours, a man of a certain age, of whom we are very fond, and whosehead is a little weak, left his home some forty-eight hours since.

We are looking for him, and we are in hopes, if we find these trunks,to find him at the same time."With furtive glances, the husband and wife were tacitly consultingeach other.

"The fact is," they said, "we wouldn't like, under any consideration,to commit an indiscretion which might result to the prejudice of acustomer.""Fear nothing," said M. de Tregars with a reassuring gesture. "Ifwe have not had recourse to the police, it's because, you know, itisn't pleasant to have the police interfere in one's affairs. Ifyou have any objections to answer me, however, I must, of course,apply to the commissary."The argument proved decisive.

"If that's the case," replied the woman, "I am ready to tell all Iknow.""Well, then, madame, what do you know?""These two trunks were bought on Friday afternoon last, by a man ofa certain age, tall, very thin, with a stern countenance, andwearing a long frock coat.""No more doubt," murmured Maxence. "It was he."And now," the woman went on, " that you have just told me that yourrelative was a little weak in the head, I remember that thisgentleman had a strange sort of way about him, and that he keptwalking about the store as if he had fleas on his legs. And awfulparticular he was too! Nothing was handsome enough and strongenough for him; and he was anxious about the safety-locks, as hehad, he said, many objects of value, papers, and securities, to putaway.

"And where did he tell you to send the two trunks?""Rue du Cirque, to Mme. - wait a minute, I have the name at the endof my tongue.""You must have it on your books, too," remarked M. de Tregars.

The husband was already looking over his blotter.

"April 26, 1872," he said. "26, here it is: 'Two leather trunks,patent safety-locks: Mme. Zelie Cadelle, 49 Rue du Cirque.'"Without too much affectation, M. de Tregars had drawn near to theshopkeeper, and was looking over his shoulder.

"What is that," he asked, "written there, below the address?""That, sir, is the direction left by the customer 'Mark on each endof the trunks, in large letters, "Rio de Janeiro."'"Maxence could not suppress an exclamation. "Oh!"But the tradesman mistook him; and, seizing this magnificentopportunity to display his knowledge,"Rio de Janeiro is the capital of Brazil," he said in a tone ofimportance. "And your relative evidently intended to go there; and,if he has not changed his mind, I doubt whether you can overtakehim; for the Brazilian steamer was to have sailed yesterday fromHavre."Whatever may have been his intentions, M. de Tregars remainedperfectly calm.

"If that's the case," he said to the shopkeepers, "I think I hadbetter give up the chase. I am much obliged to you, however, foryour information."But, once out again,"Do you really believe," inquired Maxence, "that my father hasleft France?"M.de Tregars shook his head.

"I will give you my opinion," he uttered, "after I have investigatedmatters in the Rue du Cirque."They drove there in a few minutes; and, the cab having stopped atthe entrance of the street, they walked on foot in front of No. 49.

It was a small cottage, only one story in height, built between asanded court-yard and a garden, whose tall trees showed above theroof. At the windows could be seen curtains of light-colored silk,- a sure indication of the presence of a young and pretty woman.

For a few minutes Marius de Tregars remained in observation; but,as nothing stirred,"We must find out something, somehow," he exclaimed impatiently.

And noticing a large grocery store bearing No. 62, he directed hissteps towards it, still accompanied by Maxence.

It was the hour of the day when customers are rare. Standing inthe centre of the shop, the grocer, a big fat man with an air ofimportance, was overseeing his men, who were busy putting thingsin order.

M. de Tregars took him aside, and with an accent of mystery,"I am," he said, "a clerk with M. Drayton, the jeweler in the Ruede la Paix; and I come to ask you one of those little favors whichtradespeople owe to each other."A frown appeared on the fat man's countenance. He thought, perhaps,that M. Drayton's clerks were rather too stylish-looking; or else,perhaps, be felt apprehensive of one of those numerous petty swindlesof which shopkeepers are constantly the victims.

"What is it?" said he. "Speak!""I am on my way," spoke M. de Tregars, "to deliver a ring which alady purchased of us yesterday. She is not a regular customer, andhas given us no references. If she doesn't pay, shall I leave thering? My employer told me, 'Consult some prominent tradesman of theneighborhood, and follow his advice.'"Prominent tradesman! Delicately tickled vanity was dancing in thegrocer's eyes.

"What is the name of the lady?" he inquired.

"Mme. Zelie Cadelle."The grocer burst out laughing.

"In that case, my boy," he said, tapping familiarly the shoulderof the so-called clerk, "whether she pays or not, you can deliverthe article."The familiarity was not, perhaps, very much to the taste of theMarquis de Tregars. No matter.

"She is rich, then, that lady?" he said.

"Personally no. But she is protected by an old fool, who allowsher all her fancies.""Indeed!""It is scandalous; and you cannot form an idea of the amount ofmoney that is spent in that house. Horses, carriages, servants,dresses, balls, dinners, card-playing all night, a perpetualcarnival: it must be ruinous!

M. de Tregars never winced.

"And the old man who pays?" he asked; "do you know him?""I have seen him pass,-a tall, lean, old fellow, who doesn't lookvery rich, either. But excuse me: here is a customer I must waitupon."Having walked out into the street,"We must separate now," declared M. de Tregars to Maxence.

"What! You wish to""Go and wait for me in that caf yonder, at the corner of the street.

I must see that Zelie Cadelle and speak to her."And without suffering an objection on the part of Maxence, he walkedresolutely up to the cottage-gate, and rang vigorously.

At the sound of the bell, one of those servants stepped out into theyard, who seem manufactured on purpose, heaven knows where, for thespecial service of young ladies who keep house, - a tall rascal withsallow complexion and straight hair, a cynical eye, and a low,impudent smile.

"What do you wish, sir?" he inquired through the grating.

"That you should open the door, first," uttered M. de Tregars, withsuch a look and such an accent, that the other obeyed at once.

"And now," he added, "go and announce me to Mme. Zelie Cadelle.""Madame is out," replied the valet.

And noticing that M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders,"Upon my word," he said, "she has gone to the bois with one of herfriends. If you won't believe me, ask my comrades there."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.

But M. de Tregars did not mean to be imposed upon. He felt certainthat the man was lying. Instead, therefore, of discussing,"I want you to take me to your mistress," be ordered, in a tone thatadmitted of no objection; "or else I'll find my way to her alone."It was evident that he would do just as he said, by force if needsbe. The valet saw this, and, after hesitating a moment longer,"Come along, then," he said, "since you insist so much. We'll talkto the chambermaid."And, having led M. de Tregars into the vestibule, he called out,"Mam'selle Amanda!"A woman at once made her appearance who was a worthy mate for thevalet. She must have been about forty, and the most alarmingduplicity could be read upon her features, deeply pitted by thesmall-pox. She wore a pretentious dress, an apron like astage-servant, and a cap profusely decorated with flowers andribbons.

"Here is a gentleman," said the valet, "who insists upon seeingmadame. You fix it with him."Better than her fellow servant, Mlle. Amanda could judge with whomshe had to deal. A single glance at this obstinate visitorconvinced her that he was not one who can be easily turned off.

Putting on, therefore, her pleasantest smile, thus displaying atthe same time her decayed teeth,"The fact is that monsieur will very much disturb madame," sheobserved.

"I shall excuse myself.""But I'll be scolded."Instead of answering, M. de Tregars took a couple oftwenty-franc-notes out of his pocket, and slipped them into herhand.

"Please follow me to the parlor, then," she said with a heavy sigh.

M. de Tregars did so, whilst observing everything around him withthe attentive perspicacity of a deputy sheriff preparing to makeout an inventory.

Being double, the house was much more spacious than could havebeen thought from the street, and arranged with that science ofcomfort which is the genius of modern architects.

The most lavish luxury was displayed on all sides; not that solid,quiet, and harmonious luxury which is the result of long years ofopulence, but the coarse, loud, and superficial luxury of theparvenu, who is eager to enjoy quick, and to possess all that hehas craved from others.

The vestibule was a folly, with its exotic plants climbing alongcrystal trellises, and its Sevres and China jardinieres filled withgigantic azaleas. And along the gilt railing of the stairs marbleand bronze statuary was intermingled with masses of growing flowers.

"It must take twenty thousand francs a year to keep up thisconservatory alone," thought M. de Tregars.

Meantime the old chambermaid opened a satinwood door with silverlock.

"That's the parlor," she said. "Take a seat whilst I go and tellmadame."In this parlor everything had been combined to dazzle. Furniture,carpets, hangings, every thing, was rich, too rich, furiously,incontestably, obviously rich. The chandelier was a masterpiece,the clock an original and, unique piece of work. The pictureshanging upon the wall were all signed with the most famous names.

"To judge of the rest by what I have seen," thought M. de Tregars,"there must have been at least four or five hundred thousand francsspent on this house."And, although he was shocked by a quantity of details which betrayedthe most absolute lack of taste, he could hardly persuade himselfthat the cashier of the Mutual Credit could be the master of thissumptuous dwelling; and he was asking himself whether he had notfollowed the wrong scent, when a circumstance came to put an end toall his doubts.

Upon the mantlepiece, in a small velvet frame, was Vincent Favoral'sportrait.

M. de Tregars had been seated for a few minutes, and was collectinghis somewhat scattered thoughts, when a slight grating sound, anda rustling noise, made him turn around.

Mme. Zelie Cadelle was coming in.

She was a woman of some twenty-five or six, rather tall, lithe, andwell made. Her face was pale and worn; and her heavy dark hair wasscattered over her neck and shoulders. She looked at once sarcasticand good-natured, impudent and naive, with her sparkling eyes, herturned-up nose, and wide mouth furnished with teeth, sound and white,like those of a young dog. She had wasted no time upon her dress;for she wore a plain blue cashmere wrapper, fastened at the waistwith a sort of silk scarf of similar color.

From the very threshold,"Dear me!" she exclaimed, "how very singular!"M. de Tregars stepped forward.

"What?" he inquired.

"Oh, nothing!" she replied, - "nothing at all!"And without ceasing to look at him with a wondering eye, butsuddenly changing her tone of voice,"And so, sir," she said, "my servants have been unable to keep youfrom forcing yourself into my house!""I hope, madame," said M. de Tregars with a polite bow, "that youwill excuse my persistence. I come for a matter which can sufferno delay."She was still looking at him obstinately. "Who are you?" she asked.

"My name will not afford you any information. I am the Marquis deTregars.""Tregars!" she repeated, looking up at the ceiling, as if in searchof an inspiration. "Tregars! Never heard of it!"And throwing herself into an 'arm chair,"Well, sir, what do you wish with me, then? Speak!"He had taken a seat near her, and kept his eyes riveted upon hers.

"I have come, madame," he replied, "to ask you to put me in the wayto see and speak to the man whose photograph is there on themantlepiece."He expected to take her by surprise, and that by a shudder, a cry,a gesture, she might betray her secret. Not at all.

"Are you, then, one of M. Vincent's friends?" she asked quietly.

M. de Tregars understood, and this was subsequently confirmed, thatit was under his Christian name of Vincent alone, that the cashierof the Mutual Credit was known in the Rue du Cirque.

"Yes, I am a friend of his," he replied; "and if I could see him,I could probably render him an important service.

"Well, you are too late.""Why?""Because M. Vincent put off more than twenty-four hours since?""Are you sure of that?""As sure as a person can be who went to the railway stationyesterday with him and all his baggage.""You saw him leave?""As I see you.""Where was he going?""To Havre, to take the steamer for Brazil, which was to sail on thesame day; so that, by this time, he must be awfully seasick.""And you really think that it was his intention to go to Brazil?""He said so. It was written on his thirty-six trunks in lettershalf a foot high. Besides, he showed me his ticket.""Have you any idea what could have induced him to expatriate himselfthus, at his age?""He told me he had spent all his money, and also some of otherpeople's; that he was afraid of being arrested; and that he wasgoing yonder to be quiet, and try to make another fortune."Was Mme. Zelie speaking in good faith? To ask the question wouldhave been rather naive; but an effort might be made to find out.

Carefully concealing his own impressions, and the importance heattached to this conversation,"I pity you sincerely, madame," resumed M. de Tregars; "for you mustbe sorely grieved by this sudden departure.""Me!" she said in a voice that came from the heart. "I don't carea straw."Marquis de Tregars knew well enough the ladies of the class to whichhe supposed that Mme. Zelie Cadelle must belong, not to be surprisedat this frank declaration.

"And yet," he said, "you are indebted to him for the princelymagnificence that surrounds you here.""Of course.""He being gone, as you say, will you be able to keep up your styleof living?"Half raising herself from her seat,"I haven't the slightest idea of doing so," she exclaimed." Neverin the whole world have I had such a stupid time as for the lastfive months that I have spent in this gilded cage. What a bore,my beloved brethren! I am yawning still at the mere thought of thenumber of times I have yawned in it."M. de Tregars' gesture of surprise was the more natural, that hissurprise was immense.

"You are tired being here?" he said.

"To death.""And you have only been here five months?""Dear me; yes! and by the merest chance, too, you'll see. One dayat the beginning of last December, I was coming from - but no matterwhere I was coming from. At any rate, I hadn't a cent in my pocket,and nothing but an old calico dress on my back; and I was goingalong, not in the best of humor, as you may imagine, when I feelthat some one is following me. Without looking around, and fromthe corner of my eye, if look over my shoulder, and I see arespectable-looking old gentleman, wearing a long frock-coat.""M.Vincent?""In his own natural person, and who was walking, walking. I quietlybegin to walk slower; and, as soon as we come to a place where therewas hardly any one, he comes up alongside of me."Something comical must have happened at this moment, which Mme.

Zelie Cadelle said nothing about; for she was laughing most heartily,- a frank and sonorous laughter.

"Then," she resumed, "he begins at once to explain that I remindhim of a person whom he loved tenderly, and whom he has just hadthe misfortune to lose, adding, that he would deem himself thehappiest of men if I would allow him to take care of me, and insureme a brilliant position.""You see! That rascally Vincent!" said M. de Tregars, just to besaying something.

Mme. Zelie shook her head.

"You know him," she resumed. "He is not young; he is not handsome;he is not funny. I did not fancy him one bit; and, if I had onlyknown where to find shelter for the night, I'd soon have sent himto the old Nick, - him and his brilliant position. But, not havingenough money to buy myself a penny-loaf, it wasn't the time to puton any airs. So I tell him that I accept. He goes for a cab; weget into it; and he brings me right straight here."Positively M. de Tregars required his entire self-control to concealthe intensity of his curiosity.

"Was this house, then, already as it is now?" he interrogated.

"Precisely, except that there were no servants in it, except thechambermaid Amanda, who is M. Favoral's confidante. All the othershad been dismissed; and it was a hostler from a stable near by whocame to take care of the horses.""And what then?""Then you may imagine what I looked like in the midst of all thismagnificence, with my old shoes and my fourpenny skirt. Somethinglike a grease-spot on a satin dress. M. Vincent seemed delighted,nevertheless. He had sent Amanda out to get me some under-clothingand a ready-made wrapper; and, whilst waiting, he took me allthrough the house, from the cellar to the garret, saying thateverything was at my command, and that the next day I would have abattalion of servants to wait on me."It was evidently with perfect frankness that she was speaking, andwith the pleasure one feels in telling an extraordinary adventure.

But suddenly she stopped short, as if discovering that she wasforgetting herself, and going farther than was proper.

And it was only after a moment of reflection that she went on,"It was like fairyland to me. I had never tasted the opulence ofthe great, you see, and I had never had any money except that whichI earned. So, during the first days, I did nothing but run up anddown stairs, admiring everything, feeling everything with my ownhands, and looking at myself in the glass to make sure that I wasnot dreaming. I rang the bell just to make the servants come up;I spent hours trying dresses; then I'd have the horses put to thecarriage, and either ride to the bois, or go out shopping. M.

Vincent gave me as much money as I wanted; and it seemed as though Inever spent enough. I shout, I was like a mad woman.

A cloud appeared upon Mme. Zelie's countenance, and, changingsuddenly her tone and her manner,"Unfortunately," she went on, "one gets tired of every thing. Atthe end of two weeks I knew the house from top to bottom, and aftera month I was sick of the whole thing; so that one night I begandressing.

"'Where do you want to go?' Amanda asked me.

'Why, to Mabille, to dance a quadrille, or two.'

'Impossible!'

'Why?'

'Because M. Vincent does not wish you to go out at night.'

'We'll see about that!'

The next day, I tell all this to M. Vincent; and he says that Amandais right; that it is not proper for a woman in my position tofrequent balls; and that, if I want to go out at night, I can stay.

Get out! I tell you what, if it hadn't been for the fine carriage,and all that, I would have cleared out that minute. Any way, Ibecame disgusted from that moment, and have been more and more eversince; and, if M. Vincent had not himself left, I certainly would.""To go where?""Anywhere. Look here, now! do you suppose I need a man to supportme! No, thank Heaven! Little Zelie, here present, has only toapply to any dressmaker, and she'll be glad to give her four francsa day to run the machine. And she'll be free, at least; and she canlaugh and dance as much as she likes."M. de Tregars had made a mistake: he had just discovered it.

Mme. Zelie Cadelle was certainly not particularly virtuous; but shewas far from being the woman he expected to meet.

"At any rate," he said, "you did well to wait patiently.""I do not regret it.""If you can keep this house -"She interrupted him with a great burst of laughter.

"This house!" she exclaimed. "Why, it was sold long ago, with everything in it, - furniture, horses, carriages, every thing except me.

A young gentleman, very well dressed, bought it for a tall girl, wholooks like a goose, and has far over a thousand francs of red hair onher head.".

"Are you sure of that?""Sure as I live, having seen with my own eyes the young swell andhis red-headed friend counting heaps of bank-notes to M. Vincent.

They are to move in day after to-morrow; and they have invited meto the house-warming. But no more of it for me, I thank you! Iam sick and tired of all these people. And the proof of it is, Iam busy packing my things; and lots of them I have too, - dresses,underclothes, jewelry. He was a good-natured fellow, old Vincentwas, anyhow. He gave me money enough to buy some furniture. Ihave hired a small apartment; and I am going to set up dress-makingon my own hook. And won't we laugh then! and won't we have somefun to make up for lost time! Come, my children, take your placesfor a quadrille. Forward two!"And, bouncing out of her chair, she began sketching out one ofthose bold cancan steps which astound the policemen on duty in theball-rooms.

"Bravo!" said M. de Tregars, forcing himself to smile, - "bravo!"He saw clearly now what sort of woman was Mme. Zelie Cadelle; howhe should speak to her, and what cords he might yet cause to vibratewithin her. He recognized the true daughter of Paris, wayward andnervous, who in the midst of her disorders preserves an instinctivepride; who places her independence far above all the money in theworld; who gives, rather than sells, herself; who knows no law buther caprice, no morality but the policeman, no religion but pleasure.

As soon as she had returned to her seat,"There you are dancing gayly," he said, "and poor Vincent isdoubtless groaning at this moment over his separation from you.""Ah! I'd pity him if I had time," she said.

"He was fond of you?""Don't speak of it.""If he had not been fond of you, he would not have put you here."Mme. Zelie made a little face of equivocal meaning.

"What proof is that?" she murmured.

"He would not have spent so much money for you.""For me!" she interrupted, - "for me! What have I cost him of anyconsequence? Is it for me that he bought, furnished, and fittedout this house? No, no! He had the cage; and he put in the bird,- the first he happened to find. He brought me here as he mighthave brought any other woman, young or old, pretty or ugly, blondeor brunette. As to what I spent here, it was a mere bagatellecompared with what the other did, - the one before me. Amanda kepttelling me all the time I was a fool. You may believe me, then,when I tell you that M. Vincent will not wet many handkerchiefswith the tears he'll shed over me.""But do you know what became of the one before you, as you call her,- whether she is alive or dead, and owing to what circumstances thecage became empty?"But, instead of answering, Mme. Zelie was fixing upon Marius deTregars a suspicious glance. And, after a moment only,"Why do you ask me that?" she said.

"I would like to know."She did not permit him to proceed. Rising from her seat, andstepping briskly up to him,"Do you belong to the police, by chance?" she asked in a tone ofmistrust.

If she was anxious, it was evidently because she had motives ofanxiety which she had concealed. If, two or three times she hadinterrupted herself, it was because, manifestly, she had a secretto keep. If the idea of police had come into her mind, it isbecause, very probably, they had recommended her to be on her guard.

M. de Tregars understood all this, and, also, that he had tried togo too fast.

"Do I look like a secret police-agent?" he asked.

She was examining him with all her power of penetration.

Not at all, I confess," she replied. "But, if you are not one, howis it that you come to my house, without knowing me from this sideof sole leather, to ask me a whole lot of questions, which I amfool enough to answer?""I told you I was a friend of M. Favoral.""Who's that Favoral?""That's M. Vincent's real name, madame."She opened her eyes wide.

"You must be mistaken. I never heard him called any thing butVincent.""It is because he had especial motives for concealing hispersonality. The money he spent here did not belong to him: hetook it, he stole it, from the Mutual Credit Company where he wascashier, and where he left a deficit of twelve millions."Mme. Zelie stepped back as though she had trodden on a snake.

It's impossible!" she cried.

"It is the exact truth. Haven't you seen in the papers the caseof Vincent Favoral, cashier of the Mutual Credit?"And, taking a paper from his pocket, he handed it to the young woman,saying, "Read."But she pushed it back, not without a slight blush. "Oh, I believeyou!" she said.

The fact is, and Marius understood it, she did not read veryfluently.

"The worst of M. Vincent Favoral's conduct," he resumed, "is, that,while he was throwing away money here by the handful, he subjectedhis family to the most cruel privations.""Oh!""He refused the necessaries of life to his wife, the best and theworthiest of women; he never gave a cent to his son; and hedeprived his daughter of every thing.""Ah, if I could have suspected such a thing!" murmured Mme. Zelie.

"Finally, and to cap the - climax, he has gone, leaving his wifeand children literally without bread."Transported with indignation,"Why, that man must have been a horrible old scoundrel" exclaimedthe young woman.

This is just the point to which M. de Tregars wished to bring, her.

"And now," he resumed, "you must understand the enormous interestwe have in knowing what has become of him.""I have already told you."M. de Tregars had risen, in his turn. Taking Mme. Zelie's hands,and fixing upon her one of those acute looks, which search for thetruth down to the innermost recesses of the conscience,"Come, my dear child," he began in a penetrating voice, "you are aworthy and honest girl. Will you leave in the most frightfuldespair a family who appeal to your heart? Be sure that no harmwill ever happen through us to Vincent Favoral."She raised her hand, as they do to take an oath in a court ofjustice, and, in a solemn tone,"I swear," she uttered, "that I went to the station with M. Vincent;that he assured me that he was going to Brazil; that he had hispassage-ticket; and that all his baggage was marked, 'Rio deJaneiro.'"The disappointment was great: and M. de Tregars manifested it bya gesture.

"At least," he insisted, "tell me who the woman was whose place youtook here."But already had the young woman returned to her feeling of mistrust.

"How in the world do you expect me to know?" she replied. "Go andask Amanda. I have no accounts to give you. Besides, I have togo and finish packing my trunks. So good-by, and enjoy yourself."And she went out so quick, that she caught Amanda, the chambermaid,kneeling behind the door.

"So that woman was listening," thought M. de Tregars, anxious anddissatisfied.

But it was in vain that he begged Mme. Zelie to return, and to heara single word more. She disappeared; and he had to resign himselfto leave the house without learning any thing more for the present.

He had remained there very long; and he was wondering, as he walkedout, whether Maxence had not got tired waiting for him in the littlecaf where he had sent him.

But Maxence had remained faithfully at his post. And when Marius deTregars came to sit by him, whilst exclaiming, "Here you are at last!"he called his attention at the same time with a gesture, and a winkfrom the corner of his eye, to two men sitting at the adjoining tablebefore a bowl of punch.

Certain, now, that M. de Tregars would remain on the lookout, Maxencewas knocking on the table with his fist, to call the waiter, who wasbusy playing billiards with a customer.

And when he came at last, justly annoyed at being disturbed,"Give us two mugs of beer," Maxence ordered, "and bring us a packof cards."M. de Tregars understood very well that something extraordinary hadhappened; but, unable to guess what, he leaned over towards hiscompanion.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"We must hear what these two men are saying; and we'll play a gameof piquet for a subterfuge."The waiter returned, bringing two glasses of a muddy liquid, a pieceof cloth, the color of which was concealed under a layer of dirt, anda pack of cards horribly soft and greasy.

"My deal," said Maxence.

And he began shuffling, and giving the cards, whilst M. de Tregarswas examining the punch-drinkers at the next table.

In one of the two, a man still young, wearing a striped vest withalpaca sleeves, he thought he recognized one of the rascally-lookingfellows he had caught a glimpse of in Mme. Zelie Cadelle'scarriage-house.

The other, an old man, whose inflamed complexion and blossomingnose betrayed old habits of drunkenness, looked very much like acoachman out of place. Baseness and duplicity bloomed upon hiscountenance; and the brightness of his small eyes rendered stillmore alarming the slyly obsequious smile that was stereotyped uponhis thin and pale lips.

They were so completely absorbed in their conversation, that theypaid no attention whatever to what was going on around them.

"Then," the old one was saying, "it's all over.""Entirely. The house is sold.""And the boss?""Gone to America.""What! Suddenly, that way?""No. We supposed he was going on some journey, because, every daysince the beginning of the week, they were bringing in trunks andboxes; but no one knew exactly when he would go. Now, in the nightof Saturday to Sunday, he drops in the house like a bombshell, wakesup everybody, and says he must leave immediately. At once weharness up, we load the baggage up, we drive him to the WesternRailway Station, and good-by, Vincent!""And the young lady?""She's got to get out in the next twenty-four hours; but she don'tseem to mind it one bit. The fact is we are the ones who grievethe most, after all.""Is it possible?""It is so. She was a good girl; and we won't soon find one likeher."The old man seemed distressed.

"Bad luck!" he growled. "I would have liked that house myself.""Oh, I dare say you would!""And there is no way to get in?""Can't tell. It will be well to see the others, those who havebought. But I mistrust them: they look too stupid not to be mean."Listening intently to the conversation of these two men, it wasmechanically and at random that M. de Tregars and Maxence threwtheir cards on the table, and uttered the common terms of the gameof piquet,"Five cards! Tierce, major! Three aces."Meantime the old man was going on,"Who knows but what M. Vincent may come back?""No danger of that!""Why?"The other looked carefully around, and, seeing only two playersabsorbed in their game,"Because," he replied, "M. Vincent is completely ruined, it seems.

He spent all his money, and a good deal of other people's moneybesides. Amanda, the chambermaid, told me; and I guess she knows.""You thought he was so rich!"" He was. But no matter how big a bag is: if you keep taking outof it, you must get to the bottom.""Then he spent a great deal?""It's incredible! I have been in extravagant houses; but nowherehave I ever seen money fly as it has during the five months that Ihave been in that house. A regular pillage! Everybody helpedthemselves; and what was not in the house, they could get from thetradespeople, have it charged on the bill; and it was all paidwithout a word.""Then, yes, indeed, the money must have gone pretty lively," saidthe old one in a convinced tone.

"Well," replied the other, "that was nothing yet. Amanda thechambermaid who has been in the house fifteen years, told us somestories that would make you jump. She was not much for spending,Zelie; but some of the others, it seems...

It required the greatest effort on the part of Maxence and M. deTregars not to play, but only to pretend to play, and to continueto count imaginary points, - " One, two, three, four."Fortunately the coachman with the red nose seemed much interested.

"What others?" he asked.

"That I don't know any thing about," replied the younger valet.

"But you may imagine that there must have been more than one in thatlittle house during the many years that M. Vincent owned it, - a man whohadn't his equal for women, and who was worth millions.""And what was his business?""Don't know that, either.""What! there were ten of you in the house, and you didn't know theprofession of the man who paid you all?""We were all new.""The chambermaid, Amanda, must have known.""When she was asked, she said that he was a merchant. One thing issure, he was a queer old chap."So interested was the old coachman, that, seeing the punch-bowlempty, he called for another. His comrade could not fail to showhis appreciation of such politeness.

"Ah, yes!" he went on, "old Vincent was an eccentric fellow; andnever, to see him, could you have suspected that he cut up suchcapers, and that he threw money away by the handful""Indeed!

"Imagine a man about fifty years old, stiff as a post, with a faceabout as pleasant as a prison-gate. That's the boss! Summer andwinter, he wore laced shoes, blue stockings, gray pantaloons thatwere too short, a cotton necktie, and a frock-coat that came downto his ankles. In the street, you would have taken him for a hosierwho had retired before his fortune was made.""You don't say so!""No, never have I seen a man look so much like an old miser. Youthink, perhaps, that he came in a carriage. Not a bit of it! Hecame in the omnibus, my boy, and outside too, for three sons; andwhen it rained he opened his umbrella. But the moment he hadcrossed the threshold of the house, presto, pass! complete changeof scene. The miser became pacha. He took off his old duds, puton a blue velvet robe; and then there was nothing handsome enough,nothing good enough, nothing expensive enough for him. And, whenhe had acted the my lord to his heart's content, he put on his oldtraps again, resumed his prison-gate face, climbed up on top of theomnibus, and went off as he came.""And you were not surprised, all of you, at such a life?""Very much so.""And you did not think that these singular whims must concealsomething?""Oh, but we did!""And you didn't try to find out what that something was?

"How could we?""Was it very difficult to follow your boss, and ascertain where hewent, after leaving the house?""Certainly not; but what then?""Why," he replied, "you would have found out his secret in the end;and then you would have gone to him and told him, 'Give me so much,or I peach.'"
Chapter V
This story of M. Vincent, as told by these two honest companions,was something like the vulgar legend of other people's money, soeagerly craved, and so madly dissipated. Easily-gotten wealth iseasily gotten rid of. Stolen money has fatal tendencies, and turnsirresistibly to gambling, horse-jockeys, fast women, all the ruinousfancies, all the unwholesome gratifications.

They are rare indeed, among the daring cut-throats of speculation,those to whom their ill-gotten gain proves of real service, - sorare, that they are pointed out, and are as easily numbered as thegirls who leap some night from the street to a ten-thousand-francapartment, and manage to remain there.

Seized with the intoxication of sudden wealth, they lose all measureand all prudence. Whether they believe their luck inexhaustible, orfear a sudden turn of fortune, they make haste to enjoy themselves,and they fill the noted restaurants, the leading cafes, the theatres,the clubs, the race-courses, with their impudent personality, theclash of their voice, the extravagance of their mistresses, thenoise of their expenses, and the absurdity of their vanity. Andthey go on and on, lavishing other people's money, until the fatalhour of one of those disastrous liquidations which terrify thecourts and the exchange, and cause pallid faces and a gnashing ofteeth in the "street," until the moment when they have the choicebetween a pistol-shot, which they never choose, the criminal court,which they do their best to avoid, and a trip abroad.

What becomes of them afterwards? To what gutters do they tumblefrom fall to fall? Does any one know what becomes of the women whodisappear suddenly after two or three years of follies and ofsplendors?

But it happens sometimes, as you step out of a carriage in front ofsome theatre, that you wonder where you have already seen the faceof the wretched beggar who opens the door for you, and in a huskyvoice claims his two sous. You saw him at the Caf Riche, duringthe six months that he was a big financier.

Some other time you may catch, in the crowd, snatches of a strangeconversation between two crapulous rascals.

"It was at the time," says one, "when I drove that bright chestnutteam that I had bought for twenty thousand francs of the eldest sonof the Duke de Sermeuse.""I remember," replies the other; "for at that moment I gave sixthousand francs a month to little Cabriole of the Varieties."And, improbable as this may seem, it is the exact truth; for onewas manager of a manufacturing enterprise that sank ten millions;and the other was at the head of a financial operation that ruinedfive hundred families. They had house like the one in the Rue duCirque, mistresses more expensive than Mme. Zelie Cadelle, andservants like those who were now talking within a step of Maxenceand Marius de Tregars. The latter had resumed their conversation;and the oldest one, the coachman with the red nose, was saying tohis younger comrade,"This Vincent affair must be a lesson to you. If ever you findyourself again in a house where so much money is spent, rememberthat it hasn't cost much trouble to make it, and manage somehowto get as big a share of it as you can.""That's what I've always done wherever I have been.""And, above all, make haste to fill your bag, because, you see,in houses like that, one is never sure, one day, whether, thenext, the gentleman will not be at Mazas, and the lady at St.

Lazares."They had done their second bowl of punch, and finished theirconversation. They paid, and left.

And Maxence and M. de Traggers were able, at last, to throw downtheir cards.

Maxence was very pale; and big tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"What disgrace!" he murmured: "This, then, is the other side ofmy father's existence! This is the way in which he spent themillions which he stole; whilst, in the Rue St. Gilles, hedeprived his family of the necessaries of life!

And, in a tone of utter discouragement,"Now it is indeed all over, and it is useless to continue oursearch. My father is certainly guilty.

But M. de Traggers was not the man thus to give up the game.

"Guilty? Yes," he said, "but dupe also.""Whose dupe?""That's what we'll find out, you may depend upon it.""What! after what we have just heard?""I have more hope than ever.""Did you learn any thing from Mme. Zelie Cadelle, then?""Nothing more than you know by those two rascals' conversation."A dozen questions were pressing upon Maxence's lips; but M. deTraggers interrupted him.

In this case, my friend, less than ever must we trust appearances.

Let me speak. Was your father a simpleton? No! His ability todissimulate, for years, his double existence, proves, on thecontrary, a wonderful amount of duplicity. How is it, then, thatlatterly his conduct has been so extraordinary and so absurd? Butyou will doubtless say it was always such. In that case, I answeryou, No; for then his secret could not have been kept for a year.

We hear that other women lived in that house before Mme. ZelieCadelle. But who were they? What has become of them? Is thereany certainty that they have ever existed? Nothing proves it.

"The servants having been all changed, Amanda, the chambermaid, isthe only one who knows the truth; and she will be very careful tosay nothing about it. Therefore, all our positive informationgoes back no farther than five months. And what do we hear? Thatyour father seemed to try and make his extravagant expenditures asconspicuous as possible. That he did not even take the trouble toconceal the source of the money he spent so profusely; for he toldMme. Zelie that he was at the end of his tether, and that, afterhaving spent his own fortune, he was spending other people's money.

He had announced his intended departure; he had sold the house, andreceived its price. Finally, at the last moment, what does he do?

"Instead of going off quietly and secretly, like a man who isrunning away, and who knows that he is pursued, he tells every onewhere he intends to go; he writes it on all his trunks, in lettershalf a foot high; and then rides in great display to the railwaystation, with a woman, several carriages, servants, etc. What isthe object of all this? To get caught? No, but to start a falsescent. Therefore, in his mind, every thing must have been arrangedin 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 pocketbookbehind, with the bill in it that was to lead us straight here;therefore all we have seen is but a transparent comedy, got up forour special benefit, and intended to cover up the truth, andmislead the law."But Maxence was not entirely convinced.

"Still," he remarked, "those enormous expenses."M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.

"Have you any idea," he said, "what display can be made with amillion? Let us admit that your father spent two, four millionseven. The loss of the Mutual Credit is twelve millions. What hasbecome of the other eight?"And, as Maxence made no answer,"It is those eight millions," he added, "that I want, and that Ishall have. It is in Paris that your father is hid, I feel certain.

We must find him; and we must make him tell the truth, which Ialready more than suspect."Whereupon, throwing on the table the pint of beer which he had notdrunk, he walked out of the caf with Maxence.

"Here you are at last!" exclaimed the coachman, who had beenwaiting at the corner for over three hours, a prey to the utmostanxiety.

But M. de Traggers had no time for explanations; and, pushingMaxence into the cab, he jumped in after him, crying to thecoachman,"24 Rue Joquelet. Five francs extra for yourself." A driver whoexpects an extra five francs, always has, for five minutes at least,a horse as fast as Gladiateur.

Whilst the cab was speeding on to its destination,"What is most important for us now," said M. de Tregars to Maxence,"is to ascertain how far the Mutual Credit crisis has progressed;and M. Latterman of the Rue Joquelet is the man in all Paris whocan best inform us."Whoever has made or lost five hundred francs at the bourse knows M.

Latterman, who, since the war, calls himself an Alsatian and curseswith a fearful accent those "parparous Broossians." This worthyspeculator modestly calls himself a money-changer; but he wouldbe a simpleton who should ask him for change: and it is certainlynot that sort of business which gives him the three hundred thousandfrancs' profits which he pockets every year.

When a company has failed, when it has been wound up, and thedefrauded stockholders have received two or three per cent in allon their original investment, there is a prevailing idea that thecertificates of its stocks are no longer good for any thing, exceptto light the fire. That's a mistake. Long after the company hasfoundered, its shares float, like the shattered debris which thesea casts upon the beach months after the ship has been wrecked.

These shares M. Latterman collects, and carefully stores away; andupon the shelves of his office you may see numberless shares andbonds of those numerous companies which have absorbed, in the pasttwenty years, according to some statistics, twelve hundred millions,and, according to others, two thousand millions, of the publicfortune.

Say but a word, and his clerks will offer you some "Franco-AmericanCompany," some "Steam Navigation Company of Marseilles," some "Coaland Metal Company of the Asturias," some " TranscontinentalMemphis and El Paso" (of the United States), some "Caumart SlateWorks," and hundreds of others, which, for the general public, haveno value, save that of old paper, that is from three to five centsa pound. And yet speculators are found who buy and sell theserags.

In an obscure corner of the bourse may be seen a miscellaneouspopulation of old men with pointed beards, and overdressed youngmen, who deal in every thing salable, and other things besides.

There are found foreign merchants, who will offer you stocks ofmerchandise, goods from auction, good claims to recover, and whoat last will take out of their pockets an opera-glass, a Genevawatch (smuggled in), a revolver, or a bottle of patenthair-restorer.

Such is the market to which drift those shares which were onceissued to represent millions, and which now represent nothing buta palpable proof of the audacity of swindlers, and the credulityof their dupes. And there are actually buyers for these shares,and they go up or down, according to the ordinary laws of supplyand demand; for there is a demand for them, and here comes in theusefulness of M. Latterman's business.

Does a tradesman, on the eve of declaring himself bankrupt, wishto defraud his creditors of a part of his assets, to concealexcessive expenses, or cover up some embezzlement, at once he goesto the Rue Joquelet, procures a select assortment of " CantonalCredit," "Rossdorif Mines," or "Maumusson Salt Works," and putsthem carefully away in his safe.

And, when the receiver arrives,"There are my assets," he says. "I have there some twenty, fifty,or a hundred thousand francs of stocks, the whole of which is notworth five francs to-day; but it isn't my fault. I thought it agood investment; and I didn't sell, because I always thought theprice would come up again."And he gets his discharge, because it would really be too cruel topunish a man because he has made unfortunate investments.

Better than any one, M. Latterman knows for what purpose arepurchased the valueless securities which he sells; and he actuallyadvises his customers which to take in preference, in order thattheir purchase at the time of their issue may appear more natural,and more likely. Nevertheless, he claims to be a perfectly honestman, and declares that he is no more responsible for the swindlesthat are committed by means of his stocks than a gunsmith for amurder committed with a gun that he has sold.

"But he will surely be able to tell us all about the Mutual Credit,"repeated Maxence to M. de Traggers.

Four o'clock struck when the carriage stopped in the Rue Joquelet.

The bourse had just closed; and a few groups were still standing inthe square, or along the railings.

"I hope we shall find this Latterman at home," said Maxence.

They started up the stairs (for it is up on the second floor thatthis worthy operator has his offices) ; and, having inquired,"M. Latterman is engaged with a customer," answered a clerk.

" Please sit down and wait."M. Latterman's office was like all other caverns of the same kind.

A very narrow space was reserved to the public; and all around,behind a heavy wire screen, the clerks could be seen busy withfigures, or handling coupons. On the right, over a small window,appeared the word, "CASHIER." A small door on the left led tothe private office.

M. de Tregars and Maxence had patiently taken a seat on a hardleather bench, once red; and they were listening and looking on.

There was considerable animation about the place. Every fewminutes, well-dressed young men came in with a hurried andimportant 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. Atthe end of fifteen or twenty minutes,"Will M. Latterman be engaged much longer?" inquired M. de Traggers.

"I do not know," replied a clerk.

At that very moment, the little door on the left opened, and thecustomer came out who had detained M. Latterman so long. Thiscustomer was no other than M. Costeclar. Noticing M. de Traggersand Maxence, who had risen at the noise of the door, he appearedmost disagreeably surprised. He even turned slightly pale, andtook a step backwards, as if intending to return precipitatelyinto the room that he was leaving; for M. Latterman's office,like that of all other large operators, had several doors, withoutcounting the one that leads to the police-court. But M. deTraggers gave him no time to effect this retreat. Stepping suddenlyforward,"Well?" he asked him in a tone that was almost threatening.

The brilliant financier had condescended to take off his hat,usually riveted upon his head, and, with the smile of a knave caughtin the act,"I did not expect to meet you here, my lord-marquis," he said.

At the title of "marquis," everybody looked up. "I believe you,indeed," said M. de Traggers. "But what I want to know is, howis the matter progressing?""The plot is thickening. Justice is acting."Indeed!""It is a fact. Jules Jottras, of the house of Jottras and Brother,was arrested this morning, just as he arrived at the bourse.""Why?""Because, it seems, he was an accomplice of Favoral; and it washe who sold the bonds stolen from the Mutual Credit."Maxence had started at the mention of his father's name but, witha significant glance, M. de Traggers bid him remain silent, and,in a sarcastic tone,"Famous capture!" he murmured. "And which proves theclear-sightedness of justice.""But this is not all," resumed M. Costeclar. "Saint Pavin, theeditor of 'The Financial Pilot,' you know, is thought to be seriouslycompromised. There was a rumor, at the close of the market, that awarrant either had been, or was about to be, issued against him.""And the Baron de Thaller?"The employes of the office could not help admiring M. Costeclar'sextraordinary amount of patience.

"The baron," he replied, "made his appearance at the bourse thisafternoon, and was the object of a veritable ovation..""That is admirable! And what did he say?""That the damage was already repaired.""Then the shares of the Mutual Credit must have advanced.""Unfortunately, not. They did not go above one hundred and tenfrancs.""Were you not astonished at that?""Not much, because, you see, I am a business-man, I am; and I knowpretty well how things work. When they left M. de Thaller thismorning, the stockholders of the Mutual Credit had a meeting; andthey pledged themselves, upon honor, not to sell, so as not to breakthe market. As soon as they had separated, each one said to himself,'Since the others are going to keep their stock, like fools, I amgoing to sell mine.' Now, as there were three or four hundred ofthem who argued the same way, the market was flooded with shares."Looking the brilliant financier straight in the eyes,"And yourself?" interrupted M. de Traggers.

"I!" stammered M. Costeclar, so visibly agitated, that the clerkscould not help laughing.

"Yes. I wish to know if you have been more faithful to your wordthan the stockholders of whom you are speaking, and whether youhave done as we had agreed.""Certainly; and, if you find me here"But M. de Traggers, placing his own hand over his shoulder, stoppedhim short.

"I think I know what brought you here," he uttered; "and in a fewmoments I shall have ascertained.""I swear to you.""Don't swear. If I am mistaken, so much the better for you. If Iam not mistaken, I'll prove to you that it is dangerous to try anysharp game on me, though I am not a business-man."Meantime M. Latterman, seeing no customer coming to take the placeof the one who had left, became impatient at last, and appearedupon the threshold of his private office.

He was a man still young, small, thick-set, and vulgar. At thefirst glance, nothing of him could be seen but his abdomen, - a big,great, and ponderous abdomen, seat of his thoughts, and tabernacleof his aspirations, over which dangled a double gold chain, loadedwith trinkets. Above an apoplectic neck, red as that of aturkey-cock, stood his little head, covered with coarse red hair,cut very short. He wore a heavy beard, trimmed in the form of a fan.

His large, full-moon face was divided in two by a nose as flat as aKalmuck's, and illuminated by two small eyes, in which could be readthe most thorough duplicity.

Seeing M. de Traggers and M. Costeclar engaged in conversation,"Why! you know each other?" he said.

M. de Traggers advanced a step,"We are even-intimate friends," he replied. "And it is very luckythat we should have met. I am brought here by the same matter asour dear Costeclar; and I was just explaining to him that he hasbeen too hasty, and that it would be best to wait three or four dayslonger.""That's just what I told him," echoed the honorable financier.

Maxence understood only one thing, - that M. de Tregars hadpenetrated M. Costeclar's designs; and he could not sufficientlyadmire his presence of mind, and his skill in grasping an unexpectedopportunity.

"Fortunately there is nothing done yet," added M. Latterman.

"And it is yet time to alter what has been agreed on," said M. deTraggers. And, addressing himself to Costeclar,"Come," he added, "we'll fix things with M. Latterman."But the other, who remembered the scene in the Rue St. Gilles, andwho had his own reasons to be alarmed, would sooner have jumped outof the window.

"I am expected,:' he stammered. "Arrange matters without me.""Then you give me carte blanche?"Ah, if the brilliant financier had dared! But he felt upon him suchthreatening eyes, that he dared even make a gesture of denial.

"Whatever you do will be satisfactory," he said in the tone of aman who sees himself lost.

And, as he was going out of the door, M. de Traggers stepped intoM. Latterman's private office. He remained only five minutes; andwhen he joined Maxence, whom he had begged to wait for him,"I think that we have got them," he said as they walked off.

Their next visit was to M. Saint Pavin, at the office of "TheFinancial Pilot." Every one must have seen at least one copy ofthat paper with, its ingenious vignette, representing a bold marinersteering a boat, filled with timid passengers, towards the harborof Million, over a stormy sea, bristling with the rocks of failureand the shoals of ruin. The office of "The Pilot" is, in fact,less a newspaper office than a sort of general business agency.

As at M. Latterman's, there are clerks scribbling behind wirescreens, small windows, a cashier, and an immense blackboard, onwhich the latest quotations of the Rente, and other French andforeign securities, are written in chalk.

As "The Pilot" spends some hundred thousand francs a year inadvertising, in order to obtain subscribers; as, on the other hand,it only costs three francs a year, - it is clear that it is not onits subscriptions that it realizes any profits. It has othersources of income: its brokerages first; for it buys, sells, andexecutes, as the prospectus says, all orders for stocks, bonds, orother securities, for the best interests of the client. And it hasplenty of business.

To the opulent brokerages, must be added advertising and puffing,- another mine. Six times out of ten, when a new enterprise is seton foot, the organizers send for Saint Pavin. Honest men, orknaves, they must all pass through his hands. They know it, andare resigned in advance.

"We rely upon you," they say to him.

"What advantages have you to offer?" he replies.

Then they discuss the operation, the expected profits of the newcompany, and M. Saint Pavin's demands. For a hundred thousandfrancs he promises bursts of lyrism; for fifty thousand he will beenthusiastic only. Twenty thousand francs will secure a moderatepraise of the affair; ten thousand, a friendly neutrality. And,if the said company refuses any advantages to "The Pilot""Ah, you must beware!" says Saint Pavin.

And from the very next number he commences his campaign. He ismoderate at first, and leaves a door open for his retreat. Heputs forth doubts only. He does not know much about it. "It maybe an excellent thing; it may be a wretched one: the safest is towait and see."That's the first hint. If it remains without result, he takes uphis pen again, and makes his doubts more pointed.

He knows how to steer clear of libel suits, how to handle figuresso as to demonstrate, according to the requirements of the case,that two and two make three, or make five. It is seldom, that,before the, third article, the company does not surrender atdiscretion.

All Paris knows him; and he has many friends. When M. de Traggersand Maxence arrived, they found the office full of people- speculators, brokers, go-be-tweens-come there to discussthe fluctuations of the day and the probabilities of the eveningmarket.

"M. Saint Pavin is engaged," one of the clerks told them.

Indeed, his coarse voice could be distinctly heard behind the screen.

Soon he appeared, showing out an old gentleman, who seemed utterlyconfused at the scene, and to whom he was screaming,"No, sir, no! 'The Financial Pilot' does not take that sort ofbusiness; and I find you very bold to come and propose to me atwopenny rascality." But, noticing Maxence,"M. Favoral!" he said. "By Jove! it is your good star that hasbrought you here. Come into the private office, my dear sir: come,we'll have some fun now."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 somenews to communicate. They had all stepped forward, and were holdingout their hands with a friendly smile. He set them aside with hisusual rudeness.

"By and by. I am busy now: leave me alone."And pushing Maxence towards the office-door, which he had justopened," Come in, come in!" he said in a tone of extraordinary impatience.

But M. de Traggers was coming in too; and, as he did not know him,"What do you want, you?" he asked roughly.

"The gentleman is my best friend," said Maxence, turning to him;"and I have no secret from him.""Let him walk in, then; but, by Heaven, let us hurry!"Once very sumptuous, the private office of the editor of "TheFinancial Pilot" had fallen into a state of sordid dilapidation.

If the janitor had received orders never to use a broom or a dusterthere, he obeyed them strictly. Disorder and dirt reigned supreme.

Papers and manuscripts lay in all directions; and on the broadsofas the mud from the boots of all those who had lounged uponthem had been drying for months. On the mantel-piece, in themidst of some half-dozen dirty glasses, stood a bottle of Madeira,half empty. Finally, before the fireplace, on the carpet, andalong the furniture, cigar and cigarette stumps were heaped inprofusion.

As soon as he had bolted the door, coming straight to Maxence,"What has become of your father?" inquired M. Saint Pavin rudely.

Maxence started. That was the last question he expected to hear.

"I do not know," he replied.

The manager of "The Pilot" shrugged his shoulders. "That youshould say so to the commissary of police, to the judges, and toall Favoral's enemies, I understand: it is your duty. That theyshould believe you, I understand too; for, after all, what dothey care? But to me, a friend, though you may not think so, andwho has reasons not to be credulous""I swear to you that we have no idea where he has taken refuge."Maxence said this with such an accent of sincerity, that doubt wasno longer possible. M. Saint Pavin's features expressed the utmostsurprise.

"What!" he exclaimed, "your father has gone without securing themeans of hearing from his family?""Yes.""Without saying a word of his intentions to your mother, or yoursister, or yourself?""Without one word.

"Without leaving any money, perhaps?""We found only an insignificant sum after he left." The editor of"The Pilot" made a gesture of ironical admiration. "Well, thething is complete," he said; "and Vincent is a smarter fellow thanI gave him credit for; or else he must have cared more for thoseinfernal women of his than any one supposed."M. de Traggers, who had remained hitherto silent, now steppedforward.

"What women?" he asked.

"How do I know?" he replied roughly. "How could any one ever findout any thing about a man who was more hermetically shut up in hiscoat than a Jesuit in his gown?""M. Costeclar -""That's another nice bird! Still he may possibly have discoveredsomething of Vincent's life; for he led him a pretty dance.

Wasn't he about to marry Mlle. Favoral once?""Yes, in spite of herself even.""Then you are right: he had discovered something. But, if you relyon him to tell you anything whatever, you are reckoning withoutyour host.""Who knows?" murmured M. de Traggers.

But M. Saint Pavin heard him not. Prey to a violent agitation, hewas pacing up and down the room.

"Ah, those men of cold appearance," he growled, "those men withdiscreet countenance, those close-shaving calculators, thosemoralists! What fools they do make of themselves when oncestarted! Who can imagine to what insane extremities this onemay have been driven under the spur of some mad passion!"And stamping violently his foot upon the carpet, from which aroseclouds of dust,"And yet," he swore, "I must find him. And, by thunder! whereverhe may be hid, I shall find him."M. de Traggers was watching M. Saint Pavin with a scrutinizing eye.

"You have a great interest in finding him, then?" he said.

The other stopped short.

"I have the interest," he replied, "of a man who thought himselfshrewd, and who has been taken in like a child, - of a man to whomthey had promised wonders, and who finds his situation imperilled,- of a man who is tired of working for a band of brigands who heapmillions upon millions, and to whom, for all reward, they offerthe police-court and a retreat in the State Prison for his old age,-in a word, the interests of a man who will and shall have revenge,by all that is holy!""On whom?""On the Baron de Thaller, sir! How, in the world, has he beenable to compel Favoral to assume the responsibility of all, andto disappear? What enormous sum has he given to him?""Sir," interrupted Maxence, "my father went off without a sou."M. Saint Pavin burst out in a loud laugh.

"And the twelve millions?" he asked. "What has become of them?

Do you suppose they have been distributed in deeds of charity?"And without waiting for any further objections,"And yet," he went on, "it is not with money alone that a man canbe induced to disgrace himself, to confess himself a thief and aforger, to brave the galleys, to give up everything, - country,family, friends. Evidently the Baron de Thaller must have hadother means of action, some hold on Favoral"M. de Traggers interrupted him.

"You speak," he said, "as if you were absolutely certain of M. de Thaller'scomplicity."Of course.""Why don't you inform on him, then?"The editor of "The Pilot" started back. "What!" he exclaimed, "drawthe fingers of the law into my own business! You don't think of it!

Besides, what good would that do me? I have no proofs of myallegations. Do you suppose that Thaller has not taken hisprecautions, and tied my hands? No, no! without Favoral there isnothing to be done.""Do you suppose, then, that you could induce him to surrenderhimself?""No, but to furnish me the proofs I need, to send Thaller where theyhave already sent that poor Jottras."And, becoming more and more excited,"But it is not in a month that I should want those proofs," he wenton, "nor even in two weeks, but to-morrow, but at this very moment.

Before the end of the week, Thaller will have wound up the operation,realized, Heaven knows how many millions, and put every thing insuch nice order, that justice, who in financial matters is not ofthe first capacity, will discover nothing wrong. If he can do that,he is safe, he is beyond reach, and will be dubbed a first-classfinancier. Then to what may he not aspire! Already he talks ofhaving himself elected deputy; and he says everywhere that he hasfound, to marry his daughter, a gentleman who bears one of theoldest names in France, - the Marquis de Tegars.""Why, this is the Marquis de Tregars!" exclaimed Maxence, pointingto Marius.

For the first time; M. Saint Pavin took the trouble to examine hisvisitor; and he, who knew life too well not to be a judge of men,he seemed surprised.

"Please excuse me, sir," he uttered with a politeness very differentfrom his usual manner, "and permit me to ask you if you know thereasons why M. de Thaller is so prodigiously anxious to have youfor a son-in-law.""I think," replied M. de Traggers coldly, "that M. de Thaller wouldnot be sorry to deprive me of the right to seek the causes of myfather's ruin.

But he was interrupted by a great noise of voices in the adjoiningroom; and almost at once there was a loud knock at the door, and avoice called,"In the name of the law!"The editor of "The Pilot" had become whiter than his shirt.

"That's what I was afraid of," he said. "Thaller has got ahead ofme; and perhaps I may be lost."Meantime he did not lose his wits. Quick as thought he took out ofa drawer a package of letters, threw them into the fireplace, andset fire to them, saying, in a voice made hoarse by emotion andanger,"No one shall come in until they are burnt."But it required an incredibly long time to make them catch fire;and M. Saint Pavin, kneeling before the hearth; was stirring themup, and scattering them, to make them burn faster.

"And now," said M. de Traggers, "will you hesitate to deliver upthe Baron de Thaller into the hands of justice?"He turned around with flashing eyes.

"Now," he replied, "if I wish to save myself, I must save him too.

Don't you understand that he holds me?"And, seeing that the last sheets of his correspondence were consumed,"You may open now," he said to Maxence.

Maxence obeyed; and a commissary of police, wearing his scarf ofoffice, rushed into the room; whilst his men, not without difficulty,kept back the crowd in the outer office.

The commissary, who was an old hand, and had perhaps been on ahundred expeditions of this kind, had surveyed the scene at aglance. Noticing in the fireplace the carbonized debris, uponwhich still fluttered an expiring flame,"That's the reason, then," he said, "why you were so long openingthe door?"A sarcastic smile appeared upon the lips of the editor of "The Pilot.""Private matters," he replied; "women's letters.""This will be moral evidence against you, sir.""I prefer it to material evidence."Without condescending to notice the impertinence, the commissarywas casting a suspicious glance on Maxence and M. de Traggers.

"Who are these gentlemen who were closeted with you?" he asked.

"Visitors, sir. This is M. Favoral.""The son of the cashier of the Mutual Credit?""Exactly; and this gentleman is the Marquis de Tregars.""You should have opened the door when you heard a knocking in thename of the law," grumbled the commissary.

But he did not insist. Taking a paper from his pocket, he openedit, and, handing it to M. Saint Pavin,"I have orders to arrest you," he said. "Here is the warrant."With a careless gesture, the other pushed it back. "What's the useof reading?" he said. "When I heard of the arrest of that poorJottras, I guessed at once what was in store for me. It is aboutthe Mutual Credit swindle, I imagine.""Exactly.""I have no more to do with it than yourself, sir; and I shall havevery little trouble in proving it. But that is not your business.

And you are going, I suppose, to put the seals on my papers?""Except on those that you have burnt."M. Saint Pavin burst out laughing. He had recovered his coolnessand his impudence, and seemed as much at ease as if it were themost natural thing in theworld.

"Shall I be allowed to speak to my clerks," he asked, "and to givethem my instructions?""Yes," replied the commissary, "but in my presence."The clerks, being called, appeared, consternation depicted upontheir countenances, but joy sparkling in their eyes. In realitythey were delighted at the misfortune which befell their employer.

"You see what happens to me, my boys," he said. "But don't beuneasy. In less than forty-eight hours, the error of which I amthe victim will be recognized, and I shall be liberated on bail.

At any rate, I can rely upon you, can't I?"They all swore that they would be more attentive and more zealousthan ever.

And then addressing himself to his cashier, who was hisconfidential and right-hand man,"As to you, Bernard," he said, "you will run to M. de Thaller's,and advise him of what's going on. Let him have funds ready; forall our depositors will want to draw out their money at once. Youwill then call at the printing-office: have my article on theMutual Credit kept out, and insert in its place some financial newscut out from other papers. Above all, don't mention my arrest,unless M. de Thaller should demand it. Go ahead, and let 'ThePilot' appear as usual: that's important."He had, whilst speaking, lighted a cigar. The honest man, victimof human iniquity, has not a firmer and more tranquil countenance.

"Justice does not know," he said to the commissary, who was fumblingin all the drawers of the desk, "what irreparable damage she maycause by arresting so hastily a man who has charge of immenseinterests like me. It is the fortune of ten or twelve smallcapitalists that is put in jeopardy."Already the witnesses of the arrest had retired, one by one, to goand scatter the news along the Boulevard, and also to see whatcould be made out of it; for, at the bourse, news is money.

M. de Traggers and Maxence left also. As they passed the door,"Don't you say any thing about what I told you," M. Saint Pavinrecommended to them.

M. de Traggers made no answer. He had the contracted features andtightly-drawn lips of a man who is maturing a grave determination,which, once taken will be irrevocable.

Once in the street, and when Maxence had opened the carriage-door,"We are going to separate here," he told him in that brief tone ofvoice which reveals a settled plan. "I know enough now to ventureto call at M. de Thaller's. There only shall I be able to see howto strike the decisive blow. Return to the Rue St. Gilles, andrelieve your mother's and sisters anxiety. You shall see me duringthe evening, I promise you."And, without waiting for an answer, he jumped into the cab, whichstarted off.

But it was not to the Rue St. Gilles that Maxence went. He wasanxious, first, to see Mlle. Lucienne, to tell her the events ofthat day, the busiest of his existence; to tell her his discoveries,his surprises, his anxieties, and his hopes.

To his great surprise, he failed to find her at the Hotel desFolies. She had gone riding at three o'clock, M. Fortin told him,and had not yet returned; but she could not be much longer, as itwas already getting dark. Maxence went out again then, to see ifhe could not meet her. He had walked a little way along theBoulevard, when, at some distance off, on the Place du Chateaud'Eau, he thought he noticed an unusual bustle. Almostimmediately he heard shouts of terror. Frightened people wererunning in all directions; and right before him a carriage, goingat full gallop, passed like a flash.

But, quick as it had passed, he had time to recognize Mlle.

Lucienne, pale, and clinging desperately to the seat. Wild withfear, he started after it as fast as he could run. It was clearthat the driver had no control over his horses. A policeman whotried to stop them was knocked down. Ten steps farther, thehind-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.
Chapter VI
The Baron de Thaller was too practical a man to live in the samehouse, or even in the same district, where his offices werelocated. To dwell in the midst of his business; to be constantlysubjected to the contact of his employes, to the unkindly commentsof a crowd of subordinates; to expose himself to hourly annoyances,to sickening solicitations, to the reclamations and eternalcomplaints of his stockholders and his clients! Pouah! He'd havegiven up the business first. And so, on the very days when he hadestablished the offices of the Mutual Credit in the Rue deQuatre-Septembre, he had purchased a house in the Rue de laPepiniere within a step of the Faubourg St. Honore.

It was a brand-new house, which had never yet been occupied, andwhich had just been erected by a contractor who was almostcelebrated, towards 1866, at the moment of the great transformationsof Paris, when whole blocks were leveled to the ground, and roseagain so rapidly, that one might well wonder whether the masons,instead of a trowel, did not make use of a magician's wand.

This contractor, named Parcimieux, had come from the Limousin in1860 with his carpenter's tools for all fortune, and, in less thansix years, had accumulated, at the lowest estimate, six millionsof francs. Only he was a modest man, and took as much pains toconceal his fortune, and offend no one, as most parvenus do todisplay their wealth, and insult the public.

Though he could hardly sign his name, yet he knew and practisedthe maxim of the Greek philosopher, which is, perhaps, the truesecret of happiness, - hide thy life. And there were no expedientsto which he did not resort to hide it. At the time of his greatestprosperity, for instance, having need of a carriage, he had appliedto the manager of the Petites Voitures Company, and had had builtfor himself two cabs, outwardly similar in every respect to thoseused by the company, but within, most luxuriously upholstered, anddrawn by horses of common appearance, but who could go theirtwenty-five miles in two hours any day. And these he had hired bythe year.

Having his carriage, the worthy builder determined to have, also,his house, his own house, built by himself. But this requiredinfinitely greater precautions still.

"For, as you may imagine," he explained to his friends, "a man doesnot make as much money as I have, without also making many cruel,bitter, and irreconcilable enemies. I have against me all thebuilders who have not succeeded, all the sub-contractors I employ,and who say that I speculate on their poverty, and the thousands ofworkmen who work for me, and swear that I grind them down to thedust. Already they call me brigand, slaver, thief, leech. Whatwould it be, if they saw me living in a beautiful house of my own?

They'd swear that I could not possibly have got so rich honestly,and that I must have committed some crimes. Besides, to build mea handsome house on the street would be, in case of a mob, settingup windows for the stones of all the rascals who have been in myemployment."Such were M. Parcimieux's thoughts, when, as he expressed it, heresolved to build.

A lot was for sale in the Rue de la Pepiniere. He bought it, andat the same time purchased the adjoining house, which heimmediately caused to be torn down. This operation placed in hispossession a vast piece of ground, not very wide, but of greatdepth, stretching, as it did, back to the Rue Labaume. At oncework was begun according to a plan which his architect and himselfhad spent six months in maturing. On the line of the street arosea house of the most modest appearance, two stories in height only,with a very high and very wide carriage-door for the passage ofvehicles. This was to deceive the vulgar eye, - the outside of thecab, as it were. Behind this house, between a specious court and avast garden was built the residence of which M. Parcimieux haddreamed; and it really was an exceptional building both by theexcellence of the materials used, and by the infinite care whichpresided over the minutest details. The marbles for the vestibuleand the stairs were brought from Africa, Italy, and Corsica. Hesent to Rome for workmen for the mosaics. The joiner andlocksmithing work was intrusted to real artists.

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 indulgehis most extravagant fancies, without fearing jests or unpleasantremarks.

Poor old man! The day when the last workman had driven in thelast nail, an attack of apoplexy carried him off, without givinghim time to say, "Oh!" Two days after, all his relatives from theLimousin were swooping into Paris like a pack of wolves. Sixmillions to divide: what a godsend! Litigation followed, as amatter of course; and the house was offered for sale under ajudgment.

M. de Thaller bought it for two hundred and seventy-five thousandfrancs, - about one-third what it had cost to build.

A month later he had moved into it; and the expenses which heincurred to furnish it in a style worthy of the building itselfwas the talk of the town. And yet he was not fully satisfiedwith his purchase.

Unlike M. Parcimieux, he had no wish whatever to conceal his wealth.

What! he owned one of those exquisite houses which excite at oncethe wonder and the envy of passers-by, and that house was hidbehind such a common-looking building!

"I must have that shanty pulled down," he said from time to time.

And then he thought of something else; and the "shanty" was stillstanding on that evening, when, after leaving Maxence, M. deTraggers presented himself at M. de Thaller's.

The servants had, doubtless, received their instructions; for, assoon as Marius emerged from the porch of the front-house, theporter advanced from his lodge, bent double, his mouth open to hisvery ears by the most obsequious smile.

Without waiting for a question,"The baron has not yet come home -," he said. "But he cannot bemuch longer away; and certainly the baroness is at home for mylord-marquis. Please, then, give yourself the trouble to pass."And, standing aside, he struck upon the enormous gong that stoodnear his lodge a single sharp blow, intended to wake up thefootman on duty in the vestibule, and to announce a visitor ofnote. Slowly, but not without quietly observing every thing, M.

de Traggers crossed the courtyard, covered with fine sand, - theywould have powdered it with golden dust, if they had dared, - andsurrounded on all sides with bronze baskets, in which beautifulrhododendrons were blossoming.

It was nearly six o'clock. The manager of the Mutual Credit dinedat seven; and the preparations for this important event wereeverywhere apparent. Through the large windows of the dining-roomthe steward could be seen presiding over the setting of the table.

The butler was coming up from the cellar, loaded with bottles.

Finally, through the apertures of the basement arose the appetizingperfumes of the kitchen.

What enormous business it required to support such a style, todisplay this luxury, which would shame one of those Germanprincelings, who exchanged the crown of their ancestors for aPrussian livery gilded with French gold! - other people's money.

Meantime, the blow struck by the porter on the gong had producedthe desired effect; and the gates of the vestibule seemed to openof their own accord before M. de Tregars as he ascended the stoop.

This vestibule with the splendor of which Mlle. Lucienne had beenso deeply impressed, would, indeed, have been worthy the attentionof an artist, had it been allowed to retain the simple grandeurand the severe harmony which M. Parcimieux's architect had impartedto it.

But M. de Thaller, as he was proud of boasting, had a perfect horrorof simplicity; and, wherever he discovered a vacant space as big ashis hand, he hung a picture, a bronze, or a piece of china, anything and anyhow.

The two footmen were standing when M. de Tregars came in. Withoutasking any question, "Will M. le Marquis please follow me?" saidthe youngest.

And, opening the broad glass doors1 he began walking in front ofM. de Traggers, along a staircase with marble railing, the elegantproportions of which were absolutely ruined by a ridiculousprofusion of "objects of art" of all nature, and from all sources.

This staircase led to a vast semicircular landing, upon which,between columns of precious marble, opened three wide doors. Thefootman opened the middle one, which led to M. de Thaller'spicture-gallery, a celebrated one in the financial world, andwhich had acquired for him the reputation of an enlightened amateur.

But M. de Traggers had no time to examine this gallery, which,moreover, he already knew well enough. The footman showed himinto the small drawing-room of the baroness, a bijou of a room,furnished in gilt and crimson satin.

"Will M. le Marquis be kind enough to take a seat?" he said. "Irun to notify Mme. le Baronne of M. le Marquis's visit."The footman uttered these titles of nobility with a singular pomp,and as if some of their lustre was reflected upon himself.

Nevertheless, it was evident that "Marquis" jingled to his ear muchmore pleasantly than "Baronne."Remaining alone, M. de Tregars threw himself upon a seat. Worn outby the emotions of the day, and by an extraordinary contention ofmind, he felt thankful for this moment of respite, which permittedhim, at the moment of a decisive step, to collect all his energyand all his presence of mind.

And after two minutes he was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts,that he started, like a man suddenly aroused from his sleep, atthe sound of an opening door. At the same moment he heard a slightexclamation of surprise, "Ah!

Instead of the Baroness de Thaller, it was her daughter, Mlle.

Cesarine, who had come in.

Stepping forward to the centre of the room, and acknowledging by afamiliar gesture M. de Traggers' most respectful bow,"You should warn people," she said. "I came here to look for mymother, and it is you I find. Why, you scared me to death. Whata crack! Princess dear!"And taking the young man's hand, and pressing it to her breast,"Feel," she added, "how my heart beats."Younger than Mlle. Gilberte, Mlle. Cesarine de Thaller had areputation for beauty so thoroughly established, that to call itin question would have seemed a crime to her numerous admirers.

And really she was a handsome person. Rather tall and well made,she had broad hips, the waist round and supple as a steel rod,and a magnificent throat. Her neck was, perhaps, a little toothick and too short; but upon her robust shoulders was scatteredin wild ringlets the rebellious hair that escaped from her comb.

She was a blonde, but of that reddish blonde, almost as dark asmahogany, which Titian admired, and which the handsome Venetiansobtained by means of rather repulsive practices, and by exposingthemselves to the noonday sun on the terraces of their palaces.

Her complexion had the gilded hues of amber. Her lips, red asblood, displayed as they opened, teeth of dazzling whiteness. Inher large prominent eyes, of a milky blue, like the Northern skies,laughed the eternal irony of a soul that no longer has faith inany thing. More anxious of her fame than of good taste, she worea dress of doubtful shade, puffed up by means of an extravagantpannier, and buttoned obliquely across the chest, according tothat ridiculous and ungraceful style invented by flat or humpedwomen.

Throwing herself upon a chair, and placing cavalierly one footupon another, so as to display her leg, which was admirable,"Do you know that it's perfectly stunning to see you here?" shesaid to M. de Traggers. "Just imagine, for a moment, what a facethe Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight will make when he sees you!"It was her father whom she called thus, since the day when she haddiscovered that there was a German coin called thaler, whichrepresents three francs and sixty-eight centimes in French currency.

"You know, I suppose," she went on, "that papa has just been badlystuck?"M. de Traggers was excusing himself in vague terms; but it was oneof Mlle. Cesarine's habits never to listen to the answers whichwere made to her questions.

"Favoral," she continued, "papa's cashier, has just started on aninternational picnic. Did you know him?""Very little.""An old fellow, always dressed like a country sexton, and with aface like an undertaker. And the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight,an old bird, was fool enough to be taken in by him! For he wastaken in. He had a face like a man whose chimney is on fire, whenhe came to tell us, mamma and myself, that Favoral had gone offwith twelve millions.""And has he really carried off that enormous sum?""Not entire, of course, because it was not since day beforeyesterday only that he began digging into the Mutual Credit's pile.

There were years that this venerable old swell was leading asomewhat-variegated existence, in company with rather-funny ladies,you know. And as he was not exactly calculated to be adored at par,why, it cost papa's stockholders a pretty lively premium. But,anyhow, he must have carried off a handsome nugget."And, bouncing to the piano, she began an accompaniment loud enoughto crack the window-panes, singing at the same time the popularrefrain of the "Young Ladies of Pautin:

Cashier, you've got the bag;Quick on your little nag,And then, ho, ho, for Belgium!

Any one but Marius de Tregars would have been doubtless strangelysurprised at Mlle. de Thaller's manners. But he had known her forsome time already: he was familiar with her past life, her habits,her tastes, and her pretensions. Until the age of fifteen, Mlle.

Cesarine had remained shut up in one of those pleasant Parisianboarding-schools, where young ladies are initiated into the greatart of the toilet, and from which they emerge armed with thegayest theories, knowing how to see without seeming to look, andto lie boldly without blushing; in a word, ripe for society. Thedirectress of the boarding-school, a lady of the ton, who had metwith reverses, and who was a good deal more of a dressmaker thana teacher, said of Mlle. Cesarine, who paid her three thousandfive hundred francs a year,"She gives the greatest hopes for the future; and I shall certainlymake a superior woman of her."But the opportunity was not allowed her. The Baroness de Thallerdiscovered, one morning, that it was impossible for her to livewithout her daughter, and that her maternal heart was lacerated bya separation which was against the sacred laws of nature. She tookher home, therefore, declaring that nothing, henceforth, not evenher marriage, should separate them, and that she should finishherself the education of the dear child. From that moment, in fact,whoever saw the Baroness de Thaller would also see Mlle. Cesarinefollowing in her wake.

A girl of fifteen, discreet and well-trained, is a convenientchaperon; a chaperon which enables a woman to show herself boldlywhere she might not have dared to venture alone. In presence ofa mother followed by her daughter, disconcerted slander hesitates,and dares not speak.

Under the pretext that Cesarine was still but a child and of noconsequence, Mme. de Thaller dragged her everywhere, - to the boisand to the races, visiting and shopping, to balls and parties, tothe watering-places and the seashore, to the restaurant, and toall the "first nights" at the Palais Royal, the Bouffes, theVarietes, and the Delassements. It was, therefore, especially atthe theatre, that the education of Mlle. de Thaller, so happilycommenced, had received the finishing touch. At sixteen she wasthoroughly familiar with the repertoire of the genre theatres,imitated Schneider far better than ever did Silly, and sang withsurprising intonations and astonishing gestures Blanche d'Autigny'ssuccessful moods, and Theresa's most wanton verses.

Between times, she studied the fashion papers, and formed herstyle in reading the "Vie Parisienne," whose most enigmatic articleshad no allusions sufficiently obscure to escape her penetration.

She learned to ride on horseback, to fence and to shoot, anddistinguished herself at pigeon-matches. She kept a betting-book,played Trente et Quarante at Monaco; and Baccarat had no secretsfor her. At Trouville she astonished the natives with the startlingnovelty of her bathing-costumes; and, when she found herself thecentre of a reasonable circle of lookers-on, she threw herself inthe water with a pluck that drew upon her the applause of thebathing-masters. She could smoke a cigarette, empty nearly a glassof champagne; and once her mother was obliged to bring her home,and put her quick to bed, because she had insisted upon tryingabsinthe, and her conversation had become somewhat too eccentric.

Leading such a life, it was difficult that public opinion shouldalways spare Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller. There were sceptics whoinsinuated that this steadfast friendship between mother and daughterhad very much the appearance of the association of 'two women boundtogether by the complicity of a common secret. A broker told how,one evening, or one night rather, for it was nearly two o'clock,happening to pass in front of the Moulin-Rouge, he had seen theBaroness and Mlle. Cesarine coming out, accompanied by a gentleman,to him unknown, but who, he was quite sure, was not the Baron deThaller.

A certain journey which mother and daughter had undertaken in theheart of the winter, and which had lasted not less than two months,had been generally attributed to an imprudence, the consequencesof which it had become impossible to conceal, They had been inItaly, they said when they returned; hut no one had seen themthere. Yet, as Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller's mode of life was, afterall, the same as that of a great many women who passed for beingperfectly proper, as there was no positive or palpable fact broughtagainst them, as no name was mentioned, many people shrugged theirshoulders, and replied,"Pure slanders,"And why not, since the Baron de Thaller, the most interested party,held himself satisfied?

To the ill-advised friends who ventured some allusions to the publicrumors, he replied, according to his humor,"My daughter can play the mischief generally, if she sees fit. AsI shall give a dowry of a million, she will always find a husband,"Or else, "And what of it? Do not American young ladies enjoyedunlimited freedom? Are they not constantly seen going out withyoung gentlemen, or walking or traveling alone? Are they, for allthat, less virtuous than our girls, who are kept under such closewatch? Do they make less faithful wives, or less excellent mothers?

Hypocrisy is not virtue."To a certain extent, the Manager of the Mutual Credit was right.

Already Mlle. de Thaller had had to decide upon several quitesuitable offers of marriage she had squarely refused them all.

"A husband!" she had answered each time. "Thank you, none for me.

I have good enough teeth to eat up my dowry myself. Later, we'llsee,-when I've cut my wisdom teeth, and I am tired of my bachelorlife,"She did not seem near getting tired of it, though she pretendedthat she had no more illusions, was thoroughly blasee, hadexhausted every sensation, and that life henceforth had no surprisein reserve for her. Her reception of M. de Traggers was, therefore,one of Mlle. Cesarine's least eccentricities, as was also thatsudden fancy; to apply to the situation one of the most idioticrondos of her repertoires:

"Cashier, you've got the bag;Quick on your little nag"Neither did she spare him a single verse: and, when she stopped,I see with pleasure," said M. de Traggers, "that the embezzlementof which your father has just been the victim does not in any wayoffend your good humor."She shrugged her shoulders.

Would you have me cry," she said, "because the stockholders of theBaron Three Francs Sixty-eight have been swindled? Consoleyourself: they are accustomed to it."And, as M. de Traggers made no answer,"And in all that," she went on, " I see no one to pity except thewife and daughter of that old stick Favoral.""They are, indeed, much to he pitied.""They say that the mother is a good old thing.""She is an excellent person.""And the daughter? Costeclar was crazy about her once. He madeeyes like a carp in love, as he told us, to mamma and myself,'She is an angel, mesdames, an angel! And when I have given her alittle chic!' Now tell me, is she really as good looking as allthat?""She is quite good looking.""Better looking than me?""It is not the same style, mademoiselle."Mlle. de Thaller had stopped singing; but she had not left thepiano. Half turned towards M. de Traggers, she ran her fingerslistlessly over the keys, striking a note here and there, as if topunctuate her sentences.

"Ah, how nice!" she exclaimed, "and, above all, how gallant!

Really, if you venture often on such declarations, mothers would bevery wrong to trust you alone with their daughters.""You did not understand me right, mademoiselle.""Perfectly right, on the contrary. I asked you if I was betterlooking than Mlle. Favoral; and you replied to me, that it was notthe same style.""It is because, mademoiselle, there is indeed no possible comparisonbetween you, who are a wealthy heiress, and whose life is aperpetual enchantment, and a poor girl, very humble, and very modest,who rides in the omnibus, and who makes her dresses herself."A contemptuous smile contracted Mlle. Cesarine's lips.

"Why not?" she interrupted. "Men have such funny tastes!"And, turning around suddenly, she began another rondo, no lessfamous than the first, and borrowed, this time, from the third actof the Petites-Blanchisseuses:

What matters the quality?

Beauty alone takes the prizeWomen before man must rise,And claim perfect equality."Very attentively M. de Traggers was observing her. He had not beenthe dupe of the great surprise she had manifested when she foundhim in the little parlor.

"She knew I was here," he thought; "and it is her mother who hassent her to me. But why? and for what purpose?""With all that," she resumed, "I see the sweet Mme. Favoral and hermodest daughter in a terribly tight place. What a 'bust,' marquis!""They have a great deal of courage, mademoiselle.""Naturally. But, what is better, the daughter has a splendid voice:

at least, so her professor told Costeclar. Why should she not go onthe stage? Actresses make lots of money, you know. Papal helpher, if she wishes. He has a great deal of influence in thetheatres, papa has.""Mme. and Mlle. Favoral have friends.""Ah, yes! Costeclar.""Others besides.""I beg your pardon; but it seems to me that this one will do tobegin with. He is gallant, Costeclar, extremely gallant, and,moreover, generous as a lord. Why should he not offer to thatyouthful and timid damsel a nice little position in mahogany androsewood? That way, we should have the pleasure of meeting heraround the lake."And she began singing again, with a slight variation 'Macon, who,before the war,Carried clothes for a living,Now for her gains is trustingTo that insane Costeclar.""Ah, that big red-headed girl is terribly provoking!" thought M.

de Traggers.

But, as he did not as yet understand very clearly what she wishedto come to, he kept on his guard, and remained cold as marble.

Already she had again turned towards him.

"What a face you are making!" she said. "Are you jealous of thefiery Costeclar, by chance?""No, mademoiselle, no!""Then, why don't you want him to succeed in his love? But he will,you'll see! Five hundred francs on Costeclar! Do you take it?

No? I am sorry. It's twenty-five napoleons lost for me. I knowvery well that Mlle. - what's her name?""Gilberte.""Hallo! a nice name for a cashier's daughter! I am aware that sheonce sent that poor Costeclar and his offer to - Called. But shehad resources then; whilst now - It's stupid as it can be; butpeople have to eat!""There are still women, mademoiselle, capable of starving to death."M. de Traggers now felt satisfied. It seemed evident to him thatthey had somehow got wind of his intentions; that Mlle. de Thallerhad been sent to feel the ground; and that she only attacked Mlle.

Gilberte in order to irritate him, and compel him, in a moment ofanger, to declare himself.

"Bash!" she said, "Mlle. Favoral is like all the others. If shehad to select between the amiable Costeclar and a charcoal furnace,it is not the furnace she would take."At all times, Marius de Tregars disliked Mlle. Cesarine to a supremedegree; but at this moment, without the pressing desire he had tosee the Baron and Baroness de Thaller, he would have withdrawn.

"Believe me, mademoiselle," he uttered coldly. "Spare a poor girlstricken by a most cruel misfortune. Worse might happen to you.""To me! And what the mischief do you suppose can happen me?""Who knows?"She started to her feet so violently, that she upset the piano-stool.

"Whatever It may be," she exclaimed, "I say in advance, I am glad!"And as M. de Traggers turned his head in some surprise,"Yes, I am glad!" she repeated, "because it would be a change; andI am sick of the life I lead. Yes, sick to be eternally andinvariably happy of that same dreary happiness. And to think thatthere are idiots who believe that I amuse myself, and who envy myfate! To think, that, when I ride through the streets, I hear girlsexclaim, whilst looking at me, 'Isn't she lucky?' Little fools!

I'd like to see them in my place. They live, they do. Theirpleasures are not all alike. They have anxieties and hopes, upsand downs, hours of rain and hours of sunshine; whilst I - alwaysdead calm! the barometer always at 'Set fair.' What a bore! Doyou know what I did to-day? Exactly the same thing as yesterday;and to-morrow I'll do the same thing as to-day.

"A good dinner is a good thing; but always the same dinner, withoutextras or additions - pouah! Too many truffles. I want somecorned beef and cabbage. I know the bill of fare by heart, you see.

In winter, theatres and balls; in summer, races and the seashore;summer and winter, shopping, rides to the bois, calls, tryingdresses, perpetual adoration by mother's friends, all of thembrilliant and gallant fellows to whom the mere thought of my dowrygives the jaundice. Excuse me, if I yawn: I am thinking of theirconversations.

"And to think," she went on, "that such will be my existence untilI make up my mind to take a husband! For I'll have to come to ittoo. The Baron Three Sixty-eight will present to me some sort ofa swell, attracted by my money. I'll answer, 'I'd just as soonhave him as any other; and he will be admitted to the honor ofpaying his attentions to me. Every morning he will send me asplendid bouquet: every evening, after bank-hours, he'll come alongwith fresh kid gloves and a white vest. During the afternoon, heand papa will pull each other's hair out on the subject of the dowry.

At last the happy day will arrive. Can't you see it from here?

Mass with music, dinner, ball. The Baron Three Sixty-eight willnot spare me a single ceremony. The marriage of the manager of theMutual Credit must certainly be an advertisement. The papers willpublish the names of the bridesmaids and of the guests.

"To be sure, papa will have a face a yard long; because he willhave been compelled to pay the dowry the day before. Mamma willbe all upset at the idea of becoming a grandmother. Thebridegroom will be in a wretched humor, because his boots will betoo tight; and I'll look like a goose, because I'll be dressedin white; and white is a stupid color, which is not at all becomingto me. Charming family gathering, isn't it? Two weeks later, myhusband will be sick of me, and I'll be disgusted with him. Aftera month, we'll be at daggers' points. He'll go back to his cluband his mistresses; and I - I shall have conquered the right to goout alone; and I'll begin again going to the bois, to balls, toraces, wherever my mother goes. I'll spend an enormous amount ofmoney on my dress, and I'll make debts which papa will pay."Though any thing might be expected of Mlle. Cesarine, still M.

de Traggers seemed visibly astonished. And she, laughing at hissurprise,"That's the invariable programme," she went on; "and that's why Isay I'm glad at the idea of a change, whatever it may be. You findfault with me for not pitying Mlle. Gilberte. How could I, sinceI envy her? She is happy, because her future is not settled, laidout, fixed in advance. She is poor; but she is free. She is twenty;she is pretty; she has an admirable voice; she can go on the stageto-morrow, and be, before six months, one of the pet actresses ofParis. What a life then! Ah, that is the one I dream, the one Iwould have selected, had I been mistress of my destiny."But she was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.

The Baroness de Thaller appeared. As she was, immediately afterdinner, to go to the opera, and afterwards to a party given by theViscountess de Bois d'Ardon, she was in full dress. She wore adress, cut audaciously low in the neck, of very light gray satin,trimmed with bands of cherry-colored silk edged with lace. In herhair, worn high over her head, she had a bunch of fuchsias, theflexible stems of which, fastened by a large diamond star, traileddown to her very shoulders, white and smooth as marble.

But, though she forced herself to smile, her countenance was notthat of festive days; and the glance which she cast upon herdaughter and Marius de Tregars was laden with threats. In a voiceof which she tried in vain to control the emotion,"How very kind of you, marquis," she began, "to respond so soon tomy invitation of this morning! I am really distressed to have keptyou waiting; but I was dressing. After what has happened to M. deThaller, it is absolutely indispensable that I should go out, showmyself: otherwise our enemies will be going around to-morrow, sayingeverywhere that I am in Belgium, preparing lodgings for my husband."And, suddenly changing her tone,"But what was that madcap Cesarine telling you?" she asked.

It was with a profound, surprise that M. de Traggers discovered thatthe entente cordiale which he suspected between the mother anddaughter did not exist, at least at this moment.

Veiling under a jesting tone the strange conjectures which theunexpected discovery aroused within him,"Mlle. Cesarine," he replied, "who is much to be pitied, was tellingme all her troubles."She interrupted him.

"Do not take the trouble to tell a story, M. le Marquis," she said.

"Mamma knows it as well as yourself; for she was listening at the door.""Cesarine!" exclaimed Mme. de Thaller.

"And, if she came in so suddenly, it is because she thought it wasfully time to cut short my confidences."The face of the baroness became crimson.

"The child is mad!" she said.

The child burst out laughing.

That's my way," she went on. "You should not have sent me here bychance, and against my wish. You made me do it: don't complain.

You were sure that I had but to appear, and M. de Traggers wouldfall at my feet. I appeared, and - you saw the effect through thekeyhole, didn't you?"Her features contracted, her eyes flashing, twisting her lacehandkerchief between her fingers loaded with rings,"It is unheard of," said Mme. de Thaller. "She has certainly losther head."Dropping her mother an ironical courtesy,"Thanks for the compliment!" said the young lady. "Unfortunately,I never was more completely in possession of all the good sense Imay boast of than I am now, dear mamma. What were you telling mea moment since? 'Run, the Marquis de Tregars is coming to askyour hand: it's all settled.' And what did I answer? 'No use totrouble myself: if, instead of one million, papa were to give metwo, four millions, indeed all the millions paid by France toPrussia, M. de Traggers would not have me for a wife.'"And, looking Marius straight in the face,"Am I not right, M. le Marquis?" she asked. "And isn't it a factthat you wouldn't have me at any price? Come, now, your hand uponyour heart, answer."M. de Tregars' situation was somewhat embarrassing between thesetwo women, whose anger was equal, though it manifested itself ina different way. Evidently it was a discussion begun before, whichwas now continued in his presence.

"I think, mademoiselle," he began, "that you have been slanderingyourself gratuitously.""Oh, no! I swear it to you," she replied; "and, if mamma had nothappened in, you would have heard much more. But that was not ananswer."And, as M. de Traggers said nothing, she turned towards the baroness,"Ah, ah! you see," she said. "Who was crazy, - you, or I? Ah!

you imagine here that money is everything, that every thing is forsale, and that every thing can be bought. Well, no! There arestill men, who, for all the gold in the world, would not give theirname to Cesarine de Thaller. It is strange; but it is so, dearmamma, and we must make up our mind to it."Then turning towards Marius, and bearing upon each syllable, as ifafraid that the allusion might escape him,"The men of whom I speak," she added, "marry the girls who canstarve to death."Knowing her daughter well enough to be aware that she could notimpose silence upon her, the Baroness de Thaller had dropped upona chair. She was trying hard to appear indifferent to what herdaughter was saying; but at every moment a threatening gesture, ora hoarse exclamation, betrayed the storm that raged within her.

"Go, on, poor foolish child!" she said, - "go on!"And she did go on.

"Finally, were M. de Traggers willing to have me, I would refusehim myself, because, then"A fugitive blush colored her cheeks, her bold eyes vacillated, and,dropping her voice,"Because, then," she added, "he would no longer be what he is;because I feel that fatally I shall despise the husband whom papawill buy for me. And, if I came here to expose myself to an affrontwhich I foresaw, it is because I wanted to make sure of a fact ofwhich a word of Costeclar, a few days ago, had given me an idea,- of a fact which you do not, perhaps, suspect, dear mother, despiteyour astonishing perspicacity. I wanted to find out M. de Traggers'

secret; and I have found it out."M. de Tregars had come to the Thaller mansion with a plan wellsettled in advance. He had pondered long before deciding what hewould do, and what he would say, and how he would begin the decisivestruggle. What had taken place showed him the idleness of hisconjectures, and, as a natural consequence, upset his plans. Toabandon himself to the chances of the hour, and to make the bestpossible use of them, was now the wisest thing to do.

Give me credit, mademoiselle," he uttered, "for sufficientpenetration to have perfectly well discerned your intentions.

There was no need of artifice, because I have nothing to conceal.

You had but to question me, I would have answered you frankly,'Yes, it is true I love Mlle. Gilberte; and before a month shewill be Marquise de Tregars.'"Mme. de Thaller, at those words, had started to her feet, pushingback her arm-chair so violently, that it rolled all the way to thewall.

"What!" she exclaimed, "you marry Gilberte Favoral, - you!""I - yes.""The daughter of a defaulting cashier, a dishonored man whom justicepursues and the galleys await!""Yes!" And in an accent that caused a shiver to run over the whiteshoulders of Mme. de Thaller,"Whatever may have been," he uttered, "Vincent Favoral's crime;whether he has or has not stolen, the twelve millions which arewanting from the funds of the Mutual Credit; whether he is aloneguilty, or has accomplices; whether he be a knave, or a fool, animpostor, or a dupe, - Mlle. Gilberte is not responsible.""You know the Favoral family, then?""Enough to make their cause henceforth my own.

The agitation of the baroness was so great, that she did not evenattempt to conceal it.

"A nobody's daughter!" she said.

"I love her.""Without a sou!

Mlle. Cesarine made a superb gesture.

Why, that's the very reason why a man may marry her!" she exclaimed,and, holding out her hand to M. de Traggers,What you do here is well," she added, "very well."There was a wild look in the eyes of the baroness.

"Mad, unhappy child!" she exclaimed. "If your father should hear!"And who, then, would report our conversation to him? M. de Traggers?

He would not do such a thing. You? You dare not."Drawing herself up to her fullest height, her breast swelling withanger, her head thrown back, her eyes flashing,Cesarine," ordered Mme. de Thaller, her arm extended towards thedoor - "Cesarine, leave the room; I command you."But motionless in her place the girl cast upon her mother a lookof defiance.

"Come, calm yourself," she said in a tone of crushing irony, "oryou'll spoil your complexion for the rest of the evening. Do Icomplain? do I get excited? And yet whose fault is it, if honormakes it a duty for me to cry 'Beware!' to an honest man who wishesto marry me? That Gilberte should get married : that she shouldbe very happy, have many children, darn her husband's stockings,and skim her Pot-au-fue, - that is her part in life. Ours, dearmother, - that which you have taught me - is to laugh and have fun,all the time, night and day, till death."A footman who came in interrupted her. Handing a card to Mme. deThaller,"The gentleman who gave it to me," he said, "is in the large parlor."The baroness had become very pale.

"Oh!" she said turning the card between her fingers, - "oh!"Then suddenly she ran out exclaiming,"I'll be back directly."An embarrassing, painful silence followed, as it was inevitable thatit would, the Baroness de Thaller's precipitate departure.

Mlle. Cesarine had approached the mantel-piece. She was leaningher elbow upon it, her forehead on her hand, all palpitating andexcited. Intimidated for, perhaps, the first time in her life,she turned away her great blue eyes, as if afraid that they shouldbetray a reflex of her thoughts.

As to M. de Tregars, he remained at his place, not having one whittoo much of that power of self-control, which is acquired by a longexperience of the world, to conceal his impressions. If he had afault, it was certainly not self-conceit; but Mlle. de Thaller hadbeen too explicit and too clear to leave him a doubt. All shebad said could be comprised in one sentence,"My parents were in hopes that I would become your wife: I hadjudged you well enough to understand their error. Precise becauseI love you I acknowledge myself unworthy of you and I wish you toknow that if you had asked my hand, - the hand of a girl who hasa dowry of a million - I would have ceased to esteem you.

That such a feeling should have budded and blossomed in Mlle.

Cesarine's soul, withered as it was by vanity, and blunted bypleasure was almost a miracle. It was, at any rate, an astonishingproof of love which she gave; and Marius de Tregars would not havebeen a man, if he had not been deeply moved by it. Suddenly,"What a miserable wretch I am!" she uttered.

"You mean unhappy," said M. de Tr6gars gently.

"What can you think of my sincerity? You must, doubtless, find itstrange, impudent, grotesque."He lifted his hand in protest; for she gave him no time to put ina word.

And yet," she went on, this is not the first time that I am assailedby sinister ideas, and that I feel ashamed of myself. I wasconvinced once that this mad existence of mine is the only enviableone, the only one that can give happiness. And now I discover thatit is not the right path which I have taken, or, rather, whichI have been made to take. And there is no possibility of retracingmy steps."She turned pale, and, in an accent of gloomy despair,Every thing fails me," she said. "It seems as though I were rollinginto a bottomless abyss, without a branch or a tuft of grass tocling to. Around me, emptiness, night, chaos. I am not yet twentyand it seems to me that I have lived thousands of years, andexhausted every sensation. I have seen every thing, learned everything, experienced every thing; and I am tired of every thing, andsatiated and nauseated. You see me looking like a brainless hoyden,I sing, I jest, I talk slang. My gayety surprises everybody. Inreality, I am literally tired to death. What I feel I could notexpress there are no words to render absolute disgust. Sometimes Isay to myself, 'It is stupid to be so sad. What do you need? Areyou not young, handsome, rich? But I must need something, or elseI would not be thus agitated, nervous, anxious, unable to stay inone place, tormented by confused aspirations, and by desires whichI cannot formulate. What can I do? Seek oblivion in pleasure anddissipation? I try, and I succeed for an hour or so; but thereaction comes, and the effect vanishes, like froth from champagne.

The lassitude returns; and, whilst outwardly I continue to laugh,I shed within tears of blood which scald my heart. What is tobecome of me, without a memory in the past, or a hope in the future,upon which to rest my thought?"And bursting into tears,"Oh, I am wretchedly unhappy!" she exclaimed; "and I wish I wasdead."M. de Tregars rose, feeling more deeply moved than he would, perhaps,have liked to acknowledge.

"I was laughing at you only a moment since," he said in his graveand vibrating voice, Pardon me, mademoiselle, It is with the utmostsincerity, and from the innermost depths of my soul, that I pityyou."She was looking at him with an air of timid doubt, big tearstrembling between her long eyelashes.

"Honest?" she asked.

"Upon my honor.""And you will not go with too poor an opinion of me?""I shall retain the firm belief that when you were yet but a child,you were spoiled by insane theories."Gently and sadly she was passing her hand over her forehead.

"Yes, that's it," she murmured. "How could I resist examples comingfrom certain persons? How could I help becoming intoxicated whenI saw myself, as it were, in a cloud of incense when I heard nothingbut praises and applause? And then there is the money, whichdepraves when it comes in a certain way."She ceased to speak; but the silence was soon again broken by aslight noise, which came from the adjoining room.

Mechanically, M. de Traggers looked around him. The little parlorin which he found himself was divided from the main drawing-roomof the house by a tall and broad door, closed only by heavy curtains,which had remained partially drawn. Now, such was the dispositionof the mirrors in the two rooms, that M. de Traggers could seealmost the whole of the large one reflected in the mirror over themantelpiece of the little parlor. A man of suspicious appearance,and wearing wretched clothes, was standing in it.

And, the more M. de Traggers examined him, the more it seemed tohim that he had already seen somewhere that uneasy countenance,that anxious glance, that wicked smile flitting upon flat and thinlips.

But suddenly the man bowed very low. It was probable that Mme. deThaller, who had gone around through the hall to reach the grandparlor, must be coming in; and in fact she almost immediatelyappeared within the range of the glass. She seemed much agitated;and, with a finger upon her lips, she was recommending to the manto be prudent, and to speak low. It was therefore in a whisper,and such a low whisper that not even a vague murmur reached thelittle par1or that the man uttered a few words. They were suchthat the baroness started back as if she had seen a precipice yawningat her feet; and by this action it was easy to understand that shemust have said,"Is it possible?"With the voice which still could not be heard, but with a gesturewhich could be seen, the man evidently replied,"It is so, I assure you!"And leaning towards Mme. de Thaller, who seemed in no wise shockedto feel this repulsive personage's lips almost touching her ear,he began speaking to her.

The surprise which this species of vision caused to M. de Tregarswas great, but did not keep him from reflecting what could be themeaning of this scene. How came this suspicious-looking man tohave obtained access, without difficulty, into the grand parlor?

Why had the baroness, on receiving his card, turned whiter than thelaces on her dress? What news had he brought, which had made sucha deep impression? What was he saying that seemed at once toterrify and to delight Mme. de Thaller?

But soon she interrupted the man, beckoned to him to wait,disappeared for a minute; and, when she came in again, she held inher hand a package of bank-notes, which she began counting uponthe parlor-table.

She counted twenty-five, which, so far as M. de Tregars could judge,must have been hundred-franc notes. The man took them counted themover, slipped them into his pocket with a grin of satisfaction, andthen seemed disposed to retire.

The baroness detained him, however; and it was she now, who, leaningtowards him, commenced to explain to him, or rather, as far as herattitude showed, to ask him something. It must have been a seriousmatter; for he shook his head, and moved his arms, as if he meantto say, "The deuse, the deuse!"The strangest suspicions flashed across M. de Tregars' mind. Whatwas that bargain to which the mirror made him thus an accidentalwitness? For it was a bargain: there could be no mistake about it.

The man, having received a mission, had fulfilled it, and had cometo receive the price of it. And now a new commission was offeredto him.

But M. de Traggers' attention was now called off by Mlle. Cesarine.

Shaking off the torpor which for a moment had overpowered her,"But why fret and worry?" she said, answering, rather, the objectionsof her own mind than addressing herself to M. de Traggers. "Thingsare just as they are, and I cannot undo them.

"Ah! if the mistakes of life were like soiled clothes, which areallowed to accumulate in a wardrobe, and which are all sent out atonce to the wash. But nothing washes the past, not even repentance,whatever they may say. There are some ideas which should be setaside. A prisoner should not allow himself to think of freedom.

"And yet," she added, shrugging her shoulders, "a prisoner hasalways the hope of escaping; whereas I" - Then, making a visibleeffort to resume her usual manner,Bash!" she said, "that's enough sentiment for one day; and insteadof staying here, boring you to death, I ought to go and dress; forI am going to the opera with my sweet mamma, and afterwards to theball. You ought to come. I am going to wear a stunning dress.

The ball is at Mme. de Bois d'Ardon's, - one of our friends, aprogressive woman. She has a smoking-room for ladies. What doyou think of that? Come, will you go? We'll drink champagne,and we'll laugh. No? Zut then, and my compliments to your family."But, at the moment of leaving the room, her heart failed her.

"This is doubtless the last time I shall ever see you, M. deTraggers," she said. "Farewell! You know now why I, who have adowry of a million, I envy Gilberte Favoral. Once more farewell.

And, whatever happiness may fall to your lot in life, rememberthat Cesarine has wished it all to you.".

And she went out at the very moment when the Baroness de Thallerreturned.
Chapter VII
"Cesarine!" Mme. de Thaller called, in a voice which sounded atonce like a prayer and a threat.

"I am going to dress myself, mamma," she answered.

"Come back!""So that you can scold me if I am not ready when you want to go?

Thank you, no.""I command you to come back, Cesarine."No answer. She was far already.

Mme. de Thaller closed the door of the little parlor, and returningto take a seat by M. de Traggers,"What a singular girl!" she said.

Meantime he was watching in the glass what was going on in theother room. The suspicious-looking man was there still, and alone.

A servant had brought him pen, ink and paper; and he was writingrapidly.

"How is it that they leave him there alone?" wondered Marius.

And he endeavored to find upon the features of the baroness ananswer to the confused presentiments which agitated his brain. Butthere was no longer any trace of the emotion which she had manifestedwhen taken unawares. Having had time for reflection, she hadcomposed for herself an impenetrable countenance. Somewhat surprisedat M. de Traggers silence,"I was saying," she repeated, "that Cesarine is a strange girl."Still absorbed by the scene in the grand parlor,"Strange, indeed!" he answered.

"And such is," said the baroness with a sigh, "the result of M. deThaller's weakness, and above all of my own.""We have no child but Cesarine; and it was natural that we shouldspoil her. Her fancy has been, and is still, our only law. Shehas never had time to express a wish: she is obeyed before she hasspoken."She sighed again, and deeper than the first time. "You have justseen," she went on, "the results of that insane education. And yetit would not do to trust appearances. Cesarine, believe me, is notas extravagant as she seems. She possesses solid qualities, - ofthose which a man expects of the woman who is to be his wife."Without taking his eyes off the glass,"I believe you madame," said M. de Traggers.

"With her father, with me especially, she is capricious, wilful,and violent; but, in the hands of the husband of her choice, shewould be like wax in the hands of the modeler."The man in the parlor had finished his letter, and, with anequivocal smile, was reading it over.

"Believe me, madame," replied M. de Traggers, "I have perfectlyunderstood how much naive boasting there was in all that Mlle.

Cesarine told me.""Then, really, you do not judge her too severely?""Your heart has not more indulgence for her than my own.""And yet it is from you that her first real sorrow comes.""From me?"The baroness shook her head in a melancholy way, to convey an ideaof her maternal affection and anxiety.

"Yes, from you, my dear marquis," she replied, "from you alone.

On the very day you entered this house, Cesarine's whole naturechanged."Having read his letter over, the man in the grand parlor had foldedit, and slipped it into his pocket, and, having left his seat,seemed to be waiting for something. M. de Traggers was following,in the glass, his every motion, with the most eager curiosity. Andnevertheless, as he felt the absolute necessity of saying something,were it only to avoid attracting the attention of the baroness,"What!" he said, "Mlle. Cesarine's nature did change, then?""In one night. Had she not met the hero of whom every girl dreams?

- a man of thirty, bearing one of the oldest names in France."She stopped, expecting an answer, a word, an exclamation. But, asM. de Traggers said nothing,"Did you never notice any thing then?" she asked.

"Nothing.""And suppose I were to tell you myself, that my poor Cesarine, alas!

- loves you?"M. de Traggers started. Had he been less occupied with the personagein the grand parlor, he would certainly not have allowed theconversation to drift in this channel. He understood his mistake;and, in an icy tone,"Permit me, madame," he said, "to believe that you are jesting.""And suppose it were the truth.""It would make me unhappy in the extreme.""Sir!""For the reason which I have already told you, that I love Mlle.

Gilberte Favoral with the deepest and the purest love, and thatfor the past three years she has been, before God, my affiancedbride."Something like a flash of anger passed over Mme. de Thaller's eyes.

"And I," she exclaimed, - "I tell you that this marriage is senseless.""I wish it were still more so, that I might the better show toGilberte how dear she is to me."Calm in appearance, the baroness was scratching with her nails thesatin of the chair on which she was sitting.

"Then," she went on, "your resolution is settled.""Irrevocably.""Still, now, come, between us who are no longer children, supposeM. de Thaller were to double Cesarine's dowry, to treble it?"An expression of intense disgust contracted the manly features ofMarius de Tregars.

"Ah! not another word, madame," he interrupted.

There was no hope left. Mme. de Thaller fully realized it by thetone in which he spoke. She remained pensive for over a minute,and suddenly, like a person who has finally made up her mind, sherang.

A footman appeared.

"Do what I told you!" she ordered.

And as soon as the footman had gone, turning to M. de Tregars,"Alas!" she said, "who would have thought that I would curse the daywhen you first entered our house?"But, whilst, she spoke, M. de Traggers noticed in the glass theresult of the order she had just given.

The footman walked into the grand parlor, spoke a few words; and atonce the man with the alarming countenance put on his hat and wentout.

"This is very strange!" thought M. de Traggers. Meantime, thebaroness was going on,"If your intentions are to that point irrevocable, how is it thatyou are here? You have too much experience of the world not tohave understood, this morning, the object of my visit and of myallusions."Fortunately, M. de Traggers' attention was no longer drawn by theproceedings in the next room. The decisive moment had come: thesuccess of the game he was playing would, perhaps, depend uponhis coolness and self-command.

"It is because I did understand, madame, and even better than yousuppose, that I am here.""Indeed!""I came, expecting to deal with M. de Thaller alone. I have beencompelled, by what has happened, to alter my intentions. It isto you that I must speak first."Mme. de Thaller continued to manifest the same tranquil assurance;but she stood up. Feeling the approach of the storm, she wishedto be up, and ready to meet it.

"You honor me," she said with an ironical smile.

There was, henceforth, no human power capable of turning Marius deTregars from the object he had in view.

"It is to you I shall speak," he repeated, "because, after you haveheard me, you may perhaps judge that it is your interest to join mein endeavoring to obtain from your husband what I ask, what Idemand, what I must have."With an air of surprise marvelously well simulated, if it was notreal, the baroness was looking at him.

"My father," he proceeded to say, "the Marquis de Tregars, was oncerich: he had several millions. And yet when I had the misfortuneof losing him, three years ago, he was so thoroughly ruined, thatto relieve the scruples of his honor, and to make his death easier,I gave up to his creditors all I had in the world. What had becomeof my father's fortune? What filter had been administered to himto induce him to launch into hazardous speculations, - he an oldBreton gentleman, full, even to absurdity, of the most obstinateprejudices of the nobility? That's what I wished to ascertain.""And now, madame, I - have ascertained."She was a strong-minded woman, the Baroness de Thaller. She hadhad so many adventures in her life, she had walked on the very edgeof so many precipices, concealed so many anxieties, that danger was,as it were, her element, and that, at the decisive moment of analmost desperate game, she could remain smiling like those oldgamblers whose face never betrays their terrible emotion at themoment when they risk their last stake. Not a muscle of her facemoved; and it was with the most imperturbable calm that she said,"Go on, I am listening: it must be quite interesting."That was not the way to propitiate M. de Traggers.

He resumed, in a brief and harsh tone,"When my father died, I was young. I did not know then what I havelearned since, - that to contribute to insure the impunity of knavesis almost to make one's self their accomplice. And the victim whosays nothing and submits, does contribute to it. The honest man,on the contrary, should speak, and point out to others the trapinto which he has fallen, that they may avoid it."The baroness was listening with the air of a person who is compelledby politeness to hear a tiresome story.

"That is a rather gloomy preamble," she said. M. de Tregars tookno notice of the interruption.

"At all times," he went on, "my father seemed careless of hisaffairs: that affectation, he thought, was due to the name he bore.

But his negligence was only apparent. I might mention things ofhim that would do honor to the most methodical tradesman. He had,for instance, the habit of preserving all the letters of anyimportance which he received. He left twelve or fifteen boxes fullof such. They were carefully classified; and many bore upon theirmargin a few notes indicating what answer had been made to them."Half suppressing a yawn,"That is order," said the baroness, "if I know any thing about it.""At the first moment, determined not to stir up the past, Iattached no importance to those letters; and they would certainlyhave been burnt, but for an old friend of the family, the Count deVillegre, who had them carried to his own house. But later, actingunder the influence of circumstances which it would be too long toexplain to you, I regretted my apathy; and I thought that I should,perhaps, find in that correspondence something to either dissipateor justify certain suspicions which had occurred to me.""So that, like a respectful son, you read it?" M. de Tregars bowedceremoniously.

"I believe," he said, "that to avenge a father of the imposture ofwhich he was the victim during his life, is to render homage to hismemory. Yes, madame, I read the whole of that correspondence, andwith an interest which you will readily understand. I had already,and without result, examined the contents of several boxes, when inthe package marked 1852, a year which my father spent in Paris,certain letters attracted my attention. They were written uponcoarse paper, in a very primitive handwriting and wretchedly spelt.

They were signed sometimes Phrasie, sometimes Marquise de Javelle.

Some gave the address, 'Rue des Bergers, No. 3, Paris-Grenelle.'

"Those letters left me no doubt upon what had taken place. Myfather had met a young working-girl of rare beauty: he had taken afancy to her; and, as he was tormented by the fear of being lovedfor his money alone, he had passed himself off for a poor clerk inone of the departments.""Quite a touching little love-romance," remarked the baroness.

But there was no impertinence that could affect Marius de Tregars'

coolness.

"A romance, perhaps," he said, "but in that case a money-romance,not a love-romance. This Phrasie or Marquise de Javelle, announcesin one of her letters, that in February, 1853, she has given birthto a daughter, whom she has confided to some relatives of hers inthe south, near Toulouse. It was doubtless that event whichinduced my father to acknowledge who he was. He confesses thathe is not a poor clerk, but the Marquis de Tregars, having anincome of over a hundred thousand francs. At once the tone ofthe correspondence changes. The Marquise de Javelle has a stupidtime where she lives; the neighbors reproach her with her fault;work spoils her pretty hands. Result: less than two weeks afterthe birth of her daughter, my father hires for his pretty mistressa lovely apartment, which she occupies under the name of Mme. Devil;she is allowed fifteen hundred francs a month, servants, horses,carriage."Mme. de Thaller was giving signs of the utmost impatience. Withoutpaying any attention to them, M. de Tregars proceeded,"Henceforth free to see each other daily, my father and his mistresscease to write. But Mme. Devil does not waste her time. During aspace of less than eight months, from February to September, sheinduces my father to dispose - not in her favor, she is toodisinterested for that, but in favor of her daughter - of a sumexceeding five hundred thousand francs. In September, thecorrespondence is resumed. Mme. Devil discovers that she is nothappy, and acknowledges it in a letter, which shows, by its improvedwriting and more correct spelling, that she has been taking lessons.

"She complains of her precarious situation: the future frightens her:

she longs for respectability. Such is, for three months, theconstant burden of her correspondence. She regrets the time whenshe was a working girl: why has she been so weak? Then, at last,in a note which betrays long debates and stormy discussions, sheannounces that she has an unexpected offer of marriage; a finefellow, who,, if she only had two hundred thousand francs, wouldgive his name to herself and to her darling little daughter. Fora long time my father hesitates; but she presses her point withsuch rare skill, she demonstrates so conclusively that this marriagewill insure the happiness of their child, that my father yields atlast, and resigns himself to the sacrifice. And in a memorandumon the margin of a last letter, he states that he has just giventwo hundred thousand francs to Mme. Devil; that he will never seeher again; and that he returns to live in Brittany, where he wishes,by the most rigid economy, to repair the breach he has just madein his fortune.""Thus end all these love-stories," said Mme. de Thaller in ajesting tone.

"I beg your pardon: this one is not ended yet. For many years, myfather kept his word, and never left our homestead of Tregars. Butat last he grew tired of his solitude, and returned to Paris. Didhe seek to see his former mistress again? I think not. I supposethat chance brought them together; or else, that, being aware of hisreturn, she managed to put herself in his way. He found her morefascinating, than ever, and, according to what she wrote him, richand respected; for her husband had become a personage. She wouldhave been perfectly happy, she added, had it been possible for herto forget the man whom she had once loved so much, and to whom sheowed her position.

"I have that letter. The elegant hand, the style, and the correctorthography, express better than any thing else the transformationsof the Marquise de Javelle. Only it is not signed. The littleworking-girl has become prudent: she has much to lose, and fears tocompromise herself.

"A week later, in a laconic note, apparently dictated by anirresistible passion, she begs my father to come to see her at herown house. He does so, and finds there a little girl, whom hebelieves to be his own child, and whom he at once begins to idolize.

"And that's all. Again he falls under the charm. He ceases tobelong to himself: his former mistress can dispose, at her pleasure,of his fortune and of his fate.

"But see now what bad luck! The husband takes a notion to becomejealous of my father's visits. In a letter which is a masterpieceof diplomacy, the lady explains her anxiety.

'"He has suspicions,' she writes; 'and to what extremities might henot resort, were he to discover the truth!' And with infinite artshe insinuates that the best way to justify his constant presenceis to associate himself with that jealous husband.

"It is with childish haste that my father jumps at the suggestion.

But money is needed. He sells his lands, and everywhere announcesthat he has great financial ideas, and that he is going to increasehis fortune tenfold.

"There he is now, partner of his former mistress's husband, engagedin speculations, director of a company. He thinks that he is doingan excellent business: he is convinced that he is making lots ofmoney. Poor honest man! They prove to him, one morning, that heis ruined, and, what is more, compromised. And this is made tolook so much like the truth, that I interfere myself, and pay thecreditors. We were ruined; but honor was safe. A few weeks later,my father died broken-hearted."Mme. de Thaller half rose from her seat with a gesture whichindicated the joy of escaping at last a merciless bore. A glancefrom M. de Traggers riveted her to her seat, freezing upon her lipsthe jest she was about to utter.

"I have not done yet," he said rudely.

And, without suffering .any interruption,"From this correspondence," he resumed, "resulted the flagrant,irrefutable proof of a shameful intrigue, long since suspected bymy old friend, General Count de Villegre, it became evident to methat my poor father had been most shamefully imposed upon by thatmistress, so handsome and so dearly loved, and, later, despoiledby the husband of that mistress. But all this availed me nothing.

Being ignorant of my father's life and connections, the lettersgiving neither a name nor a precise detail, I knew not whom toaccuse. Besides, in order to accuse, it is necessary to have, atleast, some material proof."The baroness had resumed her seat; and every thing about her - herattitude, her gestures, the motion of her lips-seemed to say,"You are my guest. Civility has its demands; but really you abuseyour privileges."M. de Traggers went on,"At this moment I was still a sort of savage, wholly absorbed inmy experiments, and scarcely ever setting foot outside mylaboratory. I was indignant; I ardently wished to find and topunish the villains who had robbed us: but I knew not how to goabout it, nor in what direction to seek information. The wretcheswould, 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-dozenrascals. I explained the situation to him: he took much interestin it, promised his assistance, and marked out my line of conduct."Mme. de Thaller seemed restless upon her seat.

"I must confess," she began, "that I am not wholly mistress of mytime. I am dressed, as you see: I have to go out."If she had preserved any hope of adjourning the explanation whichshe felt coming, she must have lost it when she heard the tone inwhich M. de Tregars interrupted her.

"You can go out to-morrow."And, without hurrying,"Advised, as I have just told you," he continued, "and assisted bythe experience of a professional man, I went first to No. 3, Ruedes Bergers, in Grenelle. I found there some old people, theforeman of a neighboring factory and his wife, who had been livingin the house for nearly twenty-five years. At my first question,they exchanged a glance, and commenced laughing. They rememberedperfectly the Marquise de Javelle, which was but a nickname for ayoung and pretty laundress, whose real name was Euphrasie Taponnet.

She had lived for eighteen months on the same landing as themselves:

she had a lover, who passed himself off for a clerk, but who was,in fact, she had told them, a very wealthy nobleman. They addedthat she had given birth to a little girl, and that, two weeks latershe had disappeared, and they had never heard a word from her. WhenI left them, they said to me, 'If you see Phrasie, ask her if sheever knew old Chandour and his wife. I am sure she'll remember us.'"For the first time Mme. de Thaller shuddered slightly; but it wasalmost imperceptible.

"From Grenelle," continued M. de Traggers, "I went to the housewhere my father's mistress had lived under the name of Mme. Devil.

I was in luck. I found there the same concierge as in 1853. Assoon as I mentioned Mme. Devil, she answered me that she had not inthe least forgotten her, but, on the contrary, would know her amonga thousand. She was, she said, one of the prettiest little womenshe had ever seen, and the most generous tenant. I understood thehint, handed her a couple of napoleons, and heard from her everything she knew on the subject. It seemed that this pretty Mme.

Devil had, not one lover, but two, - the acknowledged one, who wasthe master, and footed the bills; and the other an anonymous one,who went out through the back-stairs, and who did not pay, on thecontrary. The first was called the Marquis de Tregars: of thesecond, she had never known but the first name, Frederic. Itried to ascertain what had become of Mme. Devil; but the worthyconcierge swore to me that she did not know.

"One morning, like a person who is going abroad, or who wishes tocover up her tracks, Mme. Devil had sent for a furniture-dealer,and a dealer in second-hand clothes, and had sold them every thingshe had, going away with nothing but a little leather satchel, inwhich were her jewels and her money."The Baroness de Thaller still kept a good countenance. Afterexamining her for a moment, with a sort of eager curiosity, Mariusde Tregars went on,"When I communicated this information to my friend, the commissaryof police, he shook his head. 'Two years ago,' he told me, 'Iwould have said, that's more than we want to find those people; forthe public records would have given us at once the key of thisenigma. But we have had the war and the Commune; and the books ofrecord have been burnt up. Still we must not give up. A lasthope remains; and I know the man who is capable of realizing it.'

"Two days after, he brought me an excellent fellow, named VictorChupin, in whom I could have entire confidence; for he wasrecommended to me by one of the men whom I like and esteem the most,the Duke de Champdoce. Giving up all idea of applying at thevarious mayors' offices, Victor Chupin, with the patience and thetenacity of an Indian following a scent, began beating about thedistricts of Grenelle, Vargirard, and the Invalids. And not invain; for, after a week of investigations he brought me a nurse,residing Rue de l'Universite, who remembered perfectly having onceattended, on the occasion of her confinement, a remarkably prettyyoung woman, living in the Rue des Bergers, and nicknamed theMarquise de Javelle. And as she was a very orderly woman, who atall times had kept a very exact account of her receipts, she broughtme a little book in which I read this entry: 'For attending EuphrasieTaponnet, alias the Marquise de Javelle (a girl), one hundred francs.'

And this is not all. This woman informed me, moreover, that she hadbeen requested to present the child at the mayor's office, and thatshe had been duly registered there under the names of EuphrasieCesarine Taponnet, born of Euphrasie Taponnet, laundress, and anunknown father. Finally she placed at my disposal her account-bookand her testimony."Taxed beyond measure; the energy of the baroness was beginning tofail her; she was turning livid under her rice-powder. Still inthe same icy tone,"You can understand, madame," said Marius de Tregars, "that thiswoman's testimony, together with the letters which are in mypossession, enables me to establish before the courts the exactdate of the birth of a daughter whom my father had of his mistress.

But that's nothing yet. With renewed zeal, Victor Chupin hadresumed his investigations. He had undertaken the examination ofthe marriage-registers in all the parishes of Paris, and, as earlyas the following week, he discovered at Notre Dame des Lorettes theentry of the marriage of Euphrasie Taponnet with Frederic deThaller."Though she must have expected that name, the baroness started upviolently and livid, and with a haggard look.

"It's false!" she began in a choking voice.

A smile of ironical pity passed over Marius' lips.

"Five minutes' reflection will prove to you that it is useless todeny," he interrupted. "But wait. 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,- Euphrasie Cesarine."With a convulsive motion the baroness shrugged her shoulder.

"What does all that prove?" she said.

"That proves, madame, the well-settled intention of substitutingone child for another; that proves that my father was imprudentlydeceived when he was made to believe that the second Cesarine washis daughter, the daughter in whose favor he had formerly disposedof over five hundred thousand francs; that proves that there issomewhere in the world a poor girl who has been basely forsaken byher mother, the Marquise de Javelle, now become the Baroness deThaller."Beside herself with terror and anger,"That is an infamous lie!" exclaimed the baroness. M. de Tregarsbowed.

"The evidence of the truth of my statements," he said, "I shallfind at Louveciennes, and at the Hotel des Folies, Boulevard duTemple, Paris."Night had come. A footman came in carrying lamps, which he placedupon the mantelpiece. He was not all together one minute in thelittle parlor; but that one minute was enough to enable the Marquisede Thaller to recover her coolness, and to collect her ideas. Whenthe footman retired, she had made up her mind, with the resolutepromptness of a person accustomed to perilous situations. She gaveup the discussion, and, drawing near to M. de Traggers,"Enough allusions," she said: "let us speak frankly, and face toface now. What do you want?"But the change was too sudden not to arouse Marius's suspicions.

"I want a great many things," he replied.

"Still you must specify.""Well, I claim first the five hundred thousand francs which myfather had settled upon his daughter, - the daughter whom you castoff.""And what next?""I want besides, my own and my father's fortune, of which we havebeen robbed by M. de Thaller, with your assistance, madame.""Is that all, at least?"M. de Tregars shook his head.

"That's nothing yet," he replied.

"Oh!""We have now to say something of Vincent Favoral's affairs."An attorney who is defending the interests of a client is neithercalmer nor cooler than Mme. de Thaller at this moment.

"Do the affairs of my husband's cashier concern me, then?" she saidwith' a shade of irony.

"Yes, madame, very much.""I am glad to hear it.""I know it from excellent sources, because, on my return fromLouveciennes, I called in the Rue du Cirque, where I saw one ZelieCadelle."He thought that the baroness would at least start on hearing thatname. Not at all. With a look of profound astonishment,"Rue du Cirque," she repeated, like a person who is making aprodigious effort of memory, - "Rue du Cirque! Zelie Cadelle!

Really, I do not understand."But, from the glance which M. de Traggers cast upon her, she musthave understood that she would not easily draw from him theparticulars which he had resolved not to tell.

"I believe, on the contrary," he uttered, "that you understandperfectly.""Be it so, if you insist upon it. What do you ask for Favoral?""I demand, not for Favoral, but for the stockholders who have beenimpudently defrauded, the twelve millions which are missing fromthe funds of the Mutual Credit."Mme. de Thaller burst out laughing.

"Only that?" she said.

"Yes, only that!""Well, then, it seems to me that you should present your reclamationsto M. Favoral himself. You have the right to run after him.""It is useless, for the reason that it is not he, the poor fool!

who has carried off the twelve millions.""Who is it, then?""M. le Baron de Thaller, no doubt."With that accent of pity which one takes to reply to an absurdproposition, - " You are mad, my poor marquis," said Mme. de Thaller.

"You do not think so.""But suppose I should refuse to do any thing more?"He fixed upon her a glance in which she could read an irrevocabledetermination; and slowly,"I have a perfect horror of scandal," he replied, "and, as youperceive, I am trying to arrange every thing quietly between us.

But, if I do not succeed thus, I must appeal to the courts.""Where are your proofs?""Don't be afraid: I have proofs to sustain all my allegations."The baroness had stretched herself comfortably in her arm-chair.

"May we know them?" she inquired.

Marius was getting somewhat uneasy in presence of Mme. de Thaller'simperturbable assurance. What hope had she? Could she see somemeans of escape from a situation apparently so desperate? Determinedto prove to her that all was lost, and that she had nothing to dobut to surrender,"Oh! I know, madame," he replied, "that you have taken yourprecautions. But, when Providence interferes, you see, humanforesight does not amount to much. See, rather, what happens inregard to your first daughter, - the one you had when you werestill only Marquise de Javelle."And briefly he called to her mind the principal incidents of Mlle.

Lucienne's life from the time that she had left her with the poorgardeners at Louveciennes, without giving either her name or heraddress, - the injury she had received by being run over by Mme. deThaller's carriage; the long letter she had written from thehospital, begging for assistance; her visit to the house, and hermeeting with the Baron de Thaller; the effort to induce her toemigrate to America; her arrest by means of false information, andher escape, thanks to the kind peace-officer; the attempt upon heras she was going home late one night; and, finally, her imprisonmentafter the Commune, among the petroleuses, and her release throughthe interference of the same honest friend."And, charging her with the responsibility of all theseinfamous acts, he paused for an answer or a protest.

And, as Mme. de Thaller said nothing,"You are looking at me, madame, and wondering how I have discoveredall that. A single word will explain it all. The peace-officerwho saved your daughter is precisely the same to whom it was oncemy good fortune to render a service. By comparing notes, we havegradually reached the truth, - reached you, madame. Will youacknowledge now that I have more proofs than are necessary to applyto the courts?"Whether she acknowledged it or not, she did not condescend to discuss.

"What then?" she said coldly.

But M. de Traggers was too much on his guard to expose himself, bycontinuing to speak thus, to reveal the secret of his designs.

Besides, whilst he was thoroughly satisfied as to the manoeuvresused to defraud his father he had, as yet, but presumptions on whatconcerned Vincent Favoral.

"Permit me not to say another word, madame," he replied. "I havetold you enough to enable you to judge of the value of my weapons."She must have felt that she could not make him change his mind, forshe rose to go.

"That is sufficient," she uttered. "I shall reflect; and to-morrowI shall give you an answer."She started to go; but M. de Traggers threw himself quickly betweenher and the door.

"Excuse me," he said; "but it is not to-morrow that I want an answer:

it is to-night, this instant!"Ah, if she could have annihilated him with a look.

"Why, this is violence," she said in a voice which betrayed theincredible effort she was making to control herself.

"It is imposed upon me by circumstances, madame.""You would be less exacting, if my husband were here."He must have been within hearing; for suddenly the door opened, andhe appeared upon the threshold. There are people for whom theunforeseen does not exist, and whom no event can disconcert. Havingventured every thing, they expect every thing. Such was the Baronde Thaller. With a sagacious glance he examined his wife and M. deTraggers; and in a cordial tone,"We are quarreling here?" he said.

"I am glad you have come!" exclaimed the baroness.

"What is the matter?""The matter is, that M. de Traggers is endeavoring to take an odiousadvantage of some incidents of our past life.""There's woman's exaggeration for you!" he said laughing.

And, holding out his hand to Marius,"Let me make your peace - for you, my dear marquis," he said: "that'swithin the province of the husband." But, instead of taking hisextended hand, M. de Tregars stepped back.

"There is no more peace possible, sir, I am an enemy.

"An enemy!" he repeated in a tone of surprise which was wonderfullywell assumed, if it was not real.

"Yes," interrupted the baroness; "and I must speak to you at once,Frederic. Come: M. de Traggers will wait for you."And she led her husband into the adjoining room, not without firstcasting upon Marius a look of burning and triumphant hatred.

Left alone, M. de Traggers sat down. Far from annoying him, thissudden intervention of the manager of the Mutual Credit seemed tohim a stroke of fortune. It spared him an explanation more painfulstill than the first, and the unpleasant necessity of having toconfound a villain by proving his infamy to him.

"And besides," he thought, "when the husband andthe wife have consulted with each other, they will ac-knowledge that they cannot resist, and that it is best tosurrender." The deliberation was brief. In less than tenminutes, M. de Thaller returned alone. He was pale;and his face expressed well the grief of an honest manwho discovers too late that he has misplaced his confidence.

"My wife has told me all, sir," he began.

M. de Tregars had risen. "Well?" he asked.

"You see me distressed. Ah, M. le Marquis! how could I ever expectsuch a thing from you? - you, whom I thought I had the right to lookupon as a friend. And it is you, who, when a great misfortunebefalls me, attempts to give me the finishing stroke. It is you whowould crush me under the weight of slanders gathered in the gutter."M. de Tregars stopped him with a gesture.

"Mme. de Thaller cannot have correctly repeated my words to you,else you would not utter that word 'slander.'""She has repeated them to me without the least change.""Then she cannot have told you the importance of the proofs I havein my hands."But the Baron persisted, as Mlle. Cesarine would have said, to "doit up in the tender style.""There is scarcely a family," he resumed, " in which there is notsome one of those painful secrets which they try to withhold fromthe wickedness of the world. There is one in mine. Yes, it istrue, that before our marriage, my wife had had a child, whompoverty had compelled her to abandon. We have since done everythingthat it was humanly possible to find that child, but without success.

It is a great misfortune, which has weighed upon our life; but it isnot a crime. If, however, you deem it your interest to divulge oursecret, and to disgrace a woman, you are free to do so: I cannotprevent you. But I declare it to you, that fact is the only thingreal in your accusations. You say that your father has been dupedand defrauded. From whom did you get such an idea?

"From Marcolet, doubtless, a man without character, who has becomemy mortal enemy since the day when he tried a sharp game on me, andcame out second best. Or from Costeclar, perhaps, who does notforgive me for having refused him my daughter's hand, and who hatesme because I know that he committed forgery once, and that he wouldbe in prison but for your father's extreme indulgence. Well,Costeclar and Marcolet have deceived you. If the Marquis de Tregarsruined himself, it is because he undertook a business that he knewnothing about, and speculated right and left. It does not takelong to sink a fortune, even without the assistance of thieves.

"As to pretend that I have benefitted by the embezzlements of mycashier that is simply stupid; and there can be no one to suggestsuch a thing, except Jottras and Saint Pavin, two scoundrels whomI have had ten times the opportunity to send to prison and who werethe accomplices of Favoral. Besides, the matter is in the hands ofjustice; 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 myprivate fortune."Tired of this speech, the evident object of which was to lead himto discuss, and to betray himself,"Conclude, sir," M. de Traggers interrupted harshly. Still in thesame placid tone,"To conclude is easy enough," replied the baron. "My wife has toldme that you were about to marry the daughter of my old cashier, - avery handsome girl, but without a sou. She ought to have a dowry.""Sir!""Let us show our hands. I am in a critical position: you know it,and you are trying to take advantage of it. Very well: we can stillcome to an understanding. What would you say, if I were to give toMlle. Gilberte the dowry I intended for my daughter?"All M. de Traggers' blood rushed to his face.

"Ah, not another word!" he exclaimed with a gesture of unprecedentedviolence. But, controlling himself almost at once,"I demand," he added, "my father's fortune. I demand that youshould restore to the Mutual Credit Company the twelve millionswhich have been abstracted.""And if not?""Then I shall apply to the courts."They remained for a moment face to face, looking into each other'seyes. Then,"What have you decided?" asked M. de Traggers.

Without perhaps, suspecting that his offer was a new insult,"I will go as far as fifteen hundred thousand francs," replied M.

de Thaller, "and I pay cash.""Is that your last word?""It is.""If I enter a complaint, with the proofs in my hands,you are lost.""We'll see about that."To insist further would have been puerile.

"Very well, we'll see, then," said M. de Traggers. But as hewalked out and got into his cab, which had been waiting for him atthe door, he could not help wondering what gave the Baron deThaller so much assurance, and whether he was not mistaken in hisconjectures.

It was nearly eight o'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 ofone of the restaurants of the Boulevard.

He had just ordered his dinner, when a gentleman of a certain age,but active and vigorous still, of military bearing, wearing amustache, and a van-colored ribbon at his buttonhole, came to takea seat at the adjoining table.

In less than fifteen minutes M. de Traggers had despatched a bowlof soup and a slice of beef, and was hastening out, when his footstruck his neighbor's foot, without his being able to understandhow it had happened.

Though fully convinced that it was not his fault, he hastened toexcuse himself. But the other began to talk angrily, and so loud,that everybody turned around.

Vexed as he was, Marius renewed his apologies.

But the other, like those cowards who think they have found agreater coward than themselves, was pouring forth a torrent ofthe grossest insults.

M. de Traggers was lifting his hand to administer a well-deservedcorrection, when suddenly the scene in the grand parlor of theThaller mansion came back vividly to his mind. He saw again, asin the glass, the ill-looking man listening, with an anxious look,to Mme. de Thaller's propositions, and afterwards sitting down towrite.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, a multitude of circumstances occurringto his mind, which had escaped him at the moment.

And, without further reflection, seizing his adversary by thethroat, he threw him over on the table, holding him down with hisknee.

"I am sure he must have the letter about him," he said to thepeople who surrounded him.

And in fact he did take from the side-pocket of the villain a letter,which he unfolded, and commenced reading aloud,"I am waiting for you, my dear major, come quick, for the thing ispressing, - a troublesome gentleman who is to be made to keep quiet.

It will be for you the matter of a sword-thrust, and for us theoccasion to divide a round amount.""And, that's why he picked a quarrel with me," added M. de Traggers.

Two Waiters had taken hold of the villain, who was strugglingfuriously, and wanted to surrender him to the police.

"What's the use?" said Marius. " I have his letter: that's enough.

The police will find him when they want him."And, getting back into his cab,"Rue St. Gilles," he ordered, "and lively, if possible."VIIIIn the Rue St. Giles the hours were dragging, slow and gloomy.

After Maxence had left to go and meet M. de Tregars, Mme. Favoraland her daughter had remained alone with M. Chapelain, and had beencompelled to bear the brunt of his wrath, and to hear hisinterminable complaints.

He was certainly an excellent man, that old lawyer, and too just tohold Mlle. Gilberte or her mother responsible for Vincent Favoral'sacts. He spoke the truth when he assured them that he had for thema sincere affection, and that they might rely upon his devotion.

But he was losing a hundred and sixty thousand francs; and a manwho loses such a large sum is naturally in bad humor, and not muchdisposed to optimism.

The cruellest enemies of the poor women would not have torturedthem so mercilessly as this devoted friend.

He spared them not one sad detail of that meeting at the MutualCredit office, from which he had just come. He exaggerated theproud assurance of the manager, and the confiding simplicity of thestockholders. "That Baron de Thaller," he said to them, "iscertainly the most impudent scoundrel and the cleverest rascal Ihave ever seen. You'll see that he'll get out of it with cleanhands and full pockets. Whether or hot he has accomplices, Vincentwill be the scapegoat. We must make up our mind to that."His positive intention was to console Mme. Favoral and Gilberte.

Had he sworn to drive them to distraction, he could not havesucceeded better.

"Poor woman!" he said, "what is to become of you? Maxence is agood and honest fellow, I am sure, but so weak, so thoughtless, sofond of pleasure! He finds it difficult enough to get along byhimself. Of what assistance will he be to you?"Then came advice.

Mme. Favoral, he declared, should not hesitate to ask for aseparation, which the tribunal would certainly grant. For wantof this precaution, she would remain all her life under the burdenof her husband's debts, and constantly exposed to the annoyances ofthe creditors.

And always he wound up by saying,"Who could ever have expected such a thing from Vincent, - a friendof twenty years' standing! A hundred and sixty thousand francs!

Who in the world can be trusted hereafter?"Big tears were rolling slowly down Mme. Favoral's withered cheeks.

But Mlle. Gilberte was of those for whom the pity of others is theworst misfortune and the most acute suffering.

Twenty times she was on the point of exclaiming,"Keep your compassion, sir: we are neither so much to be pitied norso much forsaken as you think. Our misfortune has revealed to us atrue friend, - one who does not speak, but acts."At last, as twelve o'clock struck, M. Chapelain withdrew, announcingthat he would return the next day to get the news, and to bringfurther consolation.

"Thank Heaven, we are alone at last!" said Mlle. Gilberte.

But they had not much peace, for all that.

Great as had been the noise of Vincent Favoral's disaster, it hadnot reached at once all those who had intrusted their savings to him.

All day long, the belated creditors kept coming in; and the scenesof the morning were renewed on a smaller scale. Then legal summonsesbegan to pour in, three or four at a time. Mme. Favoral was losingall courage.

"What disgrace!" she groaned. "Will it always be so hereafter?"And she exhausted herself in useless conjectures upon the causes ofthe catastrophe; and such was the disorder of her mind, that sheknew not what to hope and what to fear, and that from one minute toanother she wished for the most contradictory things.

She would have been glad to hear that her husband was safe out ofthe country, and yet she would have deemed herself less miserable,had she known that he was hid somewhere in Paris.

And obstinately the same questions returned to her lips,"Where is he now? What is he doing? What is he thinking about?

How can he leave us without news? Is it possible that it is awoman who has driven him into the precipice? And, if so, who isthat woman?"Very different were Mlle. Gilberte's thoughts.

The great calamity that befell her family had brought about thesudden realization of her hopes. Her father's disaster had givenher an opportunity to test the man she loved; and she had foundhim even superior to all that she could have dared to dream. Thename of Favoral was forever disgraced;, but she was going to bethe wife of Marius, Marquise de Tregars.

And, in the candor of her loyal soul, she accused herself of nottaking enough interest in her mother's grief, and reproachedherself for the quivers of joy which she felt within her.

"Where is Maxence?" asked Mme. Favoral.

"Where is M. de Tregars? Why have they told us nothing of theirprojects?""They will, no doubt, come home to dinner," replied Mlle. Gilberte.

So well was she convinced of this, that she had given orders to theservant to have a somewhat better dinner than usual; and her heartwas beating at the thought of being seated near Marius, between hermother and her brother.

At about six o'clock, the bell rang violently.

"There he is!" said the young girl, rising to her feet.

But no: it was only the porter, bringing up a summons ordering Mme.

Favoral, under penalty of the law, to appear the next day, at oneo'clock precisely, before the examining judge, Barban d'Avranchel,at his office in the Palace of Justice.

The poor woman came near fainting.

"What can this judge want with me? It ought to be forbidden tocall a wife to testify against her husband," she said.

"M. de Tregars will tell you what to answer, mamma," said Mlle.

Gilberte.

Meantime, seven o'clock came, then eight, and still neither Maxencenor M. de Tregars had come.

Both mother and daughter were becoming anxious, when at last, alittle before nine, they heard steps in the hall.

Marius de Tregars appeared almost immediately.

He was pale; and his face bore the trace of the crushing fatigues ofthe day, of the cares which oppressed him, of the reflections whichhad been suggested to his mind by the quarrel of which he had nearlybeen the victim a few moments since.

"Maxence is not here?" he asked at once.

"We have not seen him," answered Mlle. Gilberte.

He seemed so much surprised, that Mme. Favoral was frightened.

"What is the matter again, good God!" she exclaimed.

"Nothing, madame," said M. de Tregars, - "nothing that should alarmyou. Compelled, about two hours ago, to part from Maxence, I was tohave met him here. Since he has not come, he must have beendetained. I know where; and I will ask your permission to run andjoin him."He went out; but Mlle. Gilberte followed him in the hall, and,taking his hand,"How kind of you!" she began, "and how can we ever sufficientlythank you?"He interrupted her.

"You owe me no thanks, my beloved; for, in what I am doing, thereis more selfishness than you think. It is my own cause, more thanyours, that I am defending. Any way, every thing is going on well."And, without giving any more explanations, he started again. Hehad no doubt that Maxence, after leaving him, had run to the Hoteldes Folies to give to Mlle. Lucienne an account of the day's work.

And, though somewhat annoyed that he had tarried so long, on secondthought, he was not surprised.

It was, therefore, to the Hotel des Folies that he was going. Nowthat he had unmasked his batteries and begun the struggle, he wasnot sorry to meet Mlle Lucienne.

In less than five minutes he had reached the Boulevard du Temple.

In front of the Fortins' narrow corridor a dozen idlers werestanding, talking.

M. de Tregars was listening as he went along.

"It is a frightful accident," said one, - "such a pretty girl, andso young too!""As to me," said another, "it is the driver that I pity the most;for after all, if that pretty miss was in that carriage, it was forher own pleasure; whereas, the poor coachman was only attending tohis business."A confused presentiment oppressed M. de Tregars' heart. Addressinghimself to one of those worthy citizens,"Have you heard any particulars?

Flattered by the confidence,"Certainly I have," he replied. "I didn't see the thing with myown proper eyes; but my wife did. It was terrible. The carriage,a magnificent private carriage too, came from the direction of theMadeleine. The horses had run away; and already there had been anaccident in the Place du Chateau d'Eau, where an old woman had beenknocked down. Suddenly, here, over there, opposite the toy-shop,which is mine, by the way, the wheel of the carriage catches intothe wheel of an enormous truck; and at once, palata! the coachmanis thrown down, and so is the lady, who was inside, - a verypretty girl, who lives in this hotel."Leaving there the obliging narrator, M. de Tregars rushed throughthe narrow corridor of the Hotel des Folies. At the moment whenhe reached the yard, he found himself in presence of Maxence.

Pale, his head bare, his eyes wild, shaking with a nervous chill,the poor fellow looked like a madman. Noticing M. de Tregars,"Ah, my friend!" he exclaimed, "what misfortune'""Lucienne?""Dead, perhaps. The doctor will not answer for her recovery. Iam going to the druggist's to get a prescription."He was interrupted by the commissary of police, whose kindprotection had hitherto preserved Mlle. Lucienne. He was comingout of the little room on the ground-floor, which the Fortins usedfor an office, bedroom, and dining-room.

He had recognized Marius de Tregars, and, coming up to him, hepressed his hand, saying, "Well, you know?""Yes.""It is my fault, M. le Marquis; for we were fully notified. I knewso well that Mlle. Lucienne's existence was threatened, I was sofully expecting a new attempt upon her life, that, whenever she wentout riding, it was one of my men, wearing a footman's livery, whotook his seat by the side of the coachman. To-day my man was sobusy, that I said to myself, 'Bash, for once!' And behold theconsequences!"It was with inexpressible astonishment that Maxence was listening.

It was with a profound stupor that he discovered between Marius andthe commissary that serious intimacy which is the result of longintercourse, real esteem, and common hopes.

"It is not an accident, then," remarked M. de Tregars.

"The coachman has spoken, doubtless?""No: the wretch was killed on the spot."And, without waiting for another question,"But don't let us stay here," said the commissary.

"Whilst Maxence runs to the drug-store, let us go into the Fortins'

office."The husband was alone there, the wife being at that moment withMlle. Lucienne.

"Do me the favor to go and take a walk for about fifteen minutes,"said the commissary to him. "We have to talk, this gentleman andmyself."Humbly, without a word, and like a man who does himself justice,M. Fortin slipped off.

And at once, - "It is clear, M. le Marquis, it is manifest, that acrime has been committed. Listen, and judge for yourself. I wasjust rising from dinner, when I was notified of what was calledour poor Lucienne's accident. Without even changing my clothes, Iran. The carriage was lying in the street, broken to pieces. Twopolicemen were holding the horses, which had been stopped. Iinquire. I learn that Lucienne, picked up by Maxence, has been ableto drag herself as far as the Hotel des Folies, and that the driverhas been taken to the nearest drug-store. Furious at my ownnegligence, and tormented by vague suspicions, it is to the druggist'sthat I go first, and in all haste. The driver was in a backroom,stretched on a mattress.

"His head having struck the angle of the curbstone, his skull wasbroken; and he had just breathed his last. It was, apparently, theannihilation of the hope which I had, of enlightening myself byquestioning this man. Nevertheless, I give orders to have himsearched. No paper is discovered upon him to establish his identity;but, in one of the pockets of his pantaloons, do you know what theyfind? Two bank-notes of a thousand francs each, carefully wrappedup in a fragment of newspaper."M. de Tregars had shuddered.

"What a revelation!" he murmured.

It was not to the present circumstance that he applied that word.

But the commissary naturally mistook him.

"Yes," he went on, "it was a revelation. To me these two thousandfrancs were worth a confession: they could only be the wages of acrime. So, without losing a moment, I jump into a cab, and drive toBrion's. Everybody was upside down, because the horses had justbeen brought back. I question; and, from the very first words, thecorrectness of my presumption is demonstrated to me. The wretch whohad just died was not one of Brion's coachmen. This is what hadhappened. At two o'clock, when the carriage ordered by M. VanKlopen was ready to go for Mlle. Lucienne, they had been compelledto send for the driver and the footman, who had forgotten themselvesdrinking in a neighboring wine-shop, with a man who had called tosee them in the morning. They were slightly under the influence ofwine, but not enough so to make it imprudent to trust them withhorses; and it was even probable that the fresh air would sober themcompletely. They had then started; but, they had not gone very far,for one of their comrades had seen them stop the carriage in frontof a wine-shop, and join there the same individual with whom theyhad been drinking all the morning""And who was no other than the man who was killed?""Wait. Having obtained this information, I get some one to take meto the wine-shop; and I ask for the coachman and the footman fromBrion's. They were there still; and they are shown to me in aprivate room, lying on the floor, fast asleep. I try to wake themup, but in vain. I order to water them freely; but a pitcher ofwater thrown on their faces has no effect, save to make them utteran inarticulate groan. I guess at once what they have taken. Isend for a physician, and I call on the wine-merchant forexplanations. It is his wife and his barkeeper who answer me.

They tell me, that, at about two o'clock, a man came in the shop,who stated that he was employed at Brion's, and who ordered threeglasses for himself and two comrades, whom he was expecting.

"A few moments later, a carriage stops at the door; and the driverand the footman leave it to come in. They were in a great hurry,they said, and only wished to take one glass. They do take three,one after another; then they order a bottle. They were evidentlyforgetting their horses, which they bad given to hold to acommissionaire. Soon the man proposes a game. The others accept;and here they are, settled in the back-room, knocking on the tablefor sealed wine. The game must have lasted at least twenty minutes.

At the end of that time, the man who had come in first appeared,looking very much annoyed, saying that it was very unpleasant, thathis comrades were dead drunk, that they will miss their work, andthat the boss, who is anxious to please his customers, willcertainly dismiss them. Although he had taken as much, and morethan the rest, he was perfectly steady; and, after reflecting fora moment, - I have an idea,' he says. 'Friends should help eachother, shouldn't they? I am going to take the coachman's livery,and drive in his stead. I happen to know the customer they weregoing after. She is a very kind old lady, and I'll tell her astory to explain the absence of the footman.'

"Convinced that the man is in Brion's employment, they have noobjection to offer to this fine project.

"The brigand puts on the livery of the sleeping coachman, gets upon the box, and starts off, after stating that he will return forhis comrades as soon as he has got through the job, and thatdoubtless they will be sober by that time.

M. de Tregars knew well enough the savoir-faire of the commissarynot to be surprised at his promptness in obtaining precise information.

Already he was going on,"Just as I was closing my examination, the doctor arrived. I showhim my drunkards; and at once he recognizes that I have guessedcorrectly, and that these men have been put asleep by means of oneof those narcotics of which certain thieves make use to rob theirvictims. A potion, which he administers to them by forcing theirteeth open with a knife, draws them from this lethargy. They opentheir eyes, and soon are in condition to reply to my questions.

They are furious at the trick that has been played upon them; butthey do not know the man. They saw him they swear to me, for thefirst time that very morning; and they are ignorant even of hisname."There was no doubt possible after such complete explanations. Thecommissary had seen correctly, and he proved it.

It was not of a vulgar accident that Mlle. Lucienne had just beenthe victim, but of a crime laboriously conceived, and executed withunheard-of audacity, - of one of those crimes such as too many arecommitted, whose combinations, nine times out of ten, set asideeven a suspicion, and foil all the efforts of human justice.

M. de Tregars knew now what had taken place, as clearly as if hehad himself received the confession of the guilty parties.

A man had been found to execute that perilous programme, - to makethe horses run away, and then to run into some heavy wagon. Thewretch was staking his life on that game; it being evident thatthe light carriage must be smashed in a thousand pieces. But hemust have relied upon his skill and his presence of mind, to avoidthe shock, to jump off safe and sound'; whilst Mlle. Lucienne,thrown upon the pavement, would probably be killed on the spot.

The event had deceived his expectations, and he had been the victimof his rascality; but his death was a misfortune.

"Because now," resumed the commissary, "the thread is broken in ourhands which would infallibly have led us to the truth. Who is itthat ordered the crime, and paid for it? We know it, since we knowwho benefits by the crime. But that is not sufficient. Justicerequires something more than moral proofs. Living, this banditwould have spoken. His death insures the impunity of the wretchesof whom he was but the instrument.""Perhaps," said M. Tregars.

And at the same time he took out of his pocket, and showed the notefound in Vincent Favoral's pocket-book, - that note, so obscure theday before, now so terribly clear.

"I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through withthat Van Klopen affair: there is the danger."The commissary of police cast but a glance upon it, and, replyingto the objections of his old experience rather more than addressinghimself to M. de Tregars,"There can be no doubt about it," he murmured. "It is to the crimecommitted to-day that these pressing recommendations relate; and,directed as they are to Vincent Favoral, they attest his complicity.

It was he who had charge of finishing the Van Klopen affair; in otherwords, to get rid of Lucienne. It was he, I'd wager my head, whohad treated with the false coachman."He remained for over a minute absorbed in his own thoughts, then,"But who is the author of these recommendations to Vincent Favoral?

Do you know that, M. le Marquis?" he said.

They looked at each other; and the same name rose to their lips,"The Baroness de Thaller!"This name, however, they did not utter.

The commissary had placed himself under the gasburner which gavelight to the Fortin's office; and, adjusting his glasses, he wasscrutinizing the note with the most minute attention, studying thegrain and the transparency of the paper, the ink, and thehandwriting. And at last,"This note," he declared, "cannot constitute a proof against itsauthor: I mean an evident, material proof, such as we require toobtain from a judge an order of arrest."And, as Marius was protesting,"This note," he insisted, "is written with the left hand, withcommon ink, on ordinary foolscap paper, such as is found everywhere.

Now all left-hand writings look alike. Draw your own conclusions."But M. de Tregars did not give it up yet.

"Wait a moment," he interrupted.

And briefly, though with the utmost exactness, he began telling hisvisit to the Thaller mansion, his conversation with Mlle. Cesarine,then with the baroness, and finally with the baron himself.

He described in the most graphic manner the scene which had takenplace in the grand parlor between Mme. de Thaller and a worse thansuspicious-looking man, - that scene, the secret of which had beenrevealed to him in its minutest details by the looking-glass. Itsmeaning was now as clear as day.

This suspicious-looking man had been one of the agents in arrangingthe intended murder: hence the agitation of the baroness when shehad received his card, and her haste to join him. If she hadstarted when he first spoke to her, it was because he was tellingher of the successful execution of the crime. If she had afterwardsmade a gesture of joy, it was because he had just informed her thatthe coachman had been killed at the same time, and that she foundherself thus rid of a dangerous accomplice.

The commissary of police shook his head.

"All this is quite probable," he murmured; "but that's all."Again M. de Tregars stopped him.

"I have not done yet," he said.

And he went on saying how he had been suddenly and brutallyassaulted by an unknown man in a restaurant; how he had collaredthis abject scoundrel, and taken out of his pocket a crushing letter,which left no doubt as to the nature of his mission.

The commissary's eyes were sparkling,"That letter! " he exclaimed, "that letter! And, as soon as he hadlooked over it,"Ah! This time," he resumed, "I think that we have somethingtangible. 'A troublesome gentleman to keep quiet,' - the Marquisde Tregars, of course, who is on the right track. 'It will be foryou the matter of a sword-thrust.' Naturally, dead men tell notales. 'It will be for us the occasion of dividing a round amount.'

An honest trade, indeed!"The good man was rubbing his hand with all his might.

"At last we have a positive fact," he went on, - "a foundation uponwhich to base our accusations. Don't be uneasy. That letter isgoing to place into our hands the scoundrel who assaulted you, - whowill make known the go-between, who himself will not fail tosurrender the Baroness de Thaller. Lucienne shall be avenged. Ifwe could only now lay our hands on Vincent Favoral! But we'll findhim yet. I set two fellows after him this afternoon, who have asuperior scent, and understand their business."He was here interrupted by Maxence, who was returning all out ofbreath, holding in his hand the medicines which he had gone after.

"I thought that druggist would never get through," he said.

And regretting to have remained away so long, feeling uneasy, andanxious to return up stairs,"Don't you wish to see Lucienne?" he added, addressing himself to M.

de Tregars rather more than to the commissary.

For all answer, they followed him at once.

A cheerless-looking place was Mlle. Lucienne's room, without anyfurniture but a narrow iron bedstead, a dilapidated bureau, fourstraw-bottomed chairs, and a small table. Over the bed, and atthe windows, were white muslin curtains, with an edging that hadonce been blue, but had become yellow from repeated washings.

Often Maxence had begged his friend to take a more comfortablelodging, and always she had refused.

"We must economize," she would say. "This room does well enoughfor me; and, besides, I am accustomed to it."When M. de Tregars and the commissary walked in, the estimablehostess of the Hotel des Folies was kneeling in front of the fire,preparing some medicine.

Hearing the footsteps, she got up, and, with a finger upon herlips,"Hush!" she said. "Take care not to wake her up!" The precautionwas useless.

"I am not asleep," said Mlle. Lucienne in a feeble voice. " Whois there?

"I," replied Maxence, advancing towards the bed.

It was only necessary to see the poor girl in order to understandMaxence's frightful anxiety. She was whiter than the sheet; andfever, that horrible fever which follows severe wounds, gave to hereyes a sinister lustre.

"But you are not alone," she said again.

"I am with him, my child," replied the commissary. "I come to begyour pardon for having so badly protected you."She shook her head with a sad and gentle motion.

"It was myself who lacked prudence," she said; "for to-day, whileout, I thought I noticed something wrong; but it looked so foolishto be afraid! If it had not happened to-day, it would have happenedsome other day. The villains who have been pursuing me for yearsmust be satisfied now. They will soon be rid of me.""Lucienne," said Maxence in a sorrowful tone M. de Tregars nowstepped forward.

"You shall live, mademoiselle," he uttered in a grave voice. "Youshall live to learn to love life."And, as she was looking at him in surprise,"You do not know me," he added.

Timidly, and as if doubting the reality,"You," she said, "the Marquis de Tregars!""Yes, mademoiselle, your brother."Had he had the control of events, Marius de Tregars would probablynot have been in such haste to reveal this fact.

But how could he control himself in presence of that bed where apoor girl was, perhaps, about to die, sacrificed to the terrorsand to the cravings of the miserable woman who was her mother, - todie at twenty, victim of the basest and most odious of crimes? Howcould he help feeling an intense pity at the sight of thisunfortunate young woman who had endured every thing that a humanbeing can suffer, whose life had been but a long and painfulstruggle, whose courage had risen above all the woes of adversity,and who had been able to pass without a stain through the mud andmire of Paris.

Besides, Marius was not one of those men who mistrust their firstimpulse, who manifest their emotion only for a purpose, who reflectand calculate before giving themselves up to the inspirations oftheir heart.

Lucienne was the daughter of the Marquis de Tregars: of that he wasabsolutely certain. He knew that the same blood flowed in his veinsand in hers; and he told her so.

He told her so, above all, because he believed her in danger; andhe wished, were she to die, that she should have, at least, thatsupreme joy. Poor Lucienne! Never had she dared to dream of suchhappiness. All her blood rushed to her cheeks; and, in a voicevibrating with the most intense emotion,"Ah, now, yes," she uttered, "I would like to live."The commissary of police, also, felt moved.

"Do not be alarmed, my child," he said in his kindest tone.

"Before two weeks you will be up. M. de Tregars is a greatphysician."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.

"Dear me! How I do suffer!""That's because you won't keep quiet, my darling," said Mme. Fortinin a tone of gentle scolding. "Have you forgotten that the doctorhas expressly forbidden you to stir?

Then taking aside the commissary, Maxence, and M. de Tregars, sheexplained to them how imprudent it was to disturb Mlle. Lucienne'srest. She was very ill, affirmed the worthy hostess; and her advicewas, that they should send for a sick-nurse as soon as possible.

She would have been extremely happy, of course, to spend the nightby the side of her dear lodger; but, unfortunately, she could notthink of it, the hotel requiring all her time and attention.

Fortunately, however, she knew in the neighborhood a widow, a veryhonest woman, and without her equal in taking care of the sick.

With an anxious and beseeching look, Maxence was consulting M. deTregars. In his eyes could be read the proposition that was burningupon his lips,"Shall I not go for Gilberte?"But that proposition he had no time to express. Though they hadbeen speaking very low, Mlle. Lucienne had heard.

"I have a friend," she said, "who would certainly be willing to situp with me."They all went up to her.

"What friend," inquired the commissary of police.

"You know her very well, sir. It is that poor girl who had takenme home with her at Batignolles when I left the hospital, who cameto my assistance during the Commune, and whom you helped to getout of the Versailles prisons.

"Do you know what has become of her?""Only since yesterday, when I received a letter from her, a veryfriendly letter. She writes that she has found money to set up adressmaking establishment, and that she is relying upon me to beher forewoman. She is going to open in the Rue St. Lazare; but,in the mean time, she is stopping in the Rue du Cirque."M. de Tregars and Maxence had started slightly.

"What is your friend's name? " they inquired at once.

Not being aware of the particulars of the two young men's visit tothe Rue du Cirque, the commissary of police could not understandthe cause of their agitation.

"I think," he said, "that it would hardly be proper now to send forthat girl.""It is to her alone, on the contrary, that we must resort,"interrupted M. de Tregars.

And, as he had good reasons to mistrust Mme. Fortin, he took thecommissary outside the room, on the landing; and there, in a fewwords, he explained to him that this Zelie was precisely the samewoman whom they had found in the Rue du Cirque, in that sumptuousmansion where Vincent Favoral, under the simple name of Vincent, hadbeen living, according to the neighbors, in such a princely style.

The commissary of police was astounded. Why had he not known allthis sooner? Better late than never, however.

"Ah! you are right, M. le Marquis, a hundred times right!" hedeclared. "This girl must evidently know Vincent Favoral's secret,the key of the enigma that we are vainly trying to solve. Whatshe would not tell to you, a stranger, she will tell to Lucienne,her friend."Maxence offered to go himself for Zelie Cadelle.

No," answered Marius. " If she should happen to know you, shewould mistrust you, and would refuse to come."It was, therefore, M. Fortin who was despatched to the Rue duCirque, and who went off muttering, though he had received fivefrancs to take a carriage, and five francs for his trouble.

"And now," said the commissary of police to Maxence, "we must bothof us get out of the way. I, because the fact of my being acommissary would frighten Mme. Cadelle; you because, being VincentFavoral's son, your presence would certainly prove embarrassingto her."And so they went out; but M. de Tregars did not remain long alonewith Mlle. Lucienne. M. Fortin had had the delicacy not to tarryon the way.

Eleven o'clock struck as Zelie Cadelle rushed like a whirlwindinto her friend's room.

Such had been his haste, that she had given no thought whatever toher dress. She had stuck upon her uncombed hair the first bonnetshe had laid her hand upon, and thrown an old shawl over thewrapper in which she had received Marius in the afternoon.

"What, my poor Lucienne!" she exclaimed. "Are you so sick as allthat?"But she stopped short as she recognized M. de Tregars; and, in asuspicious tone,"What a singular meeting!" she said.

Marius bowed.

"You know Lucienne?"What she meant by that he understood perfectly. "Lucienne is mysister, madame," he said coldly.

She shrugged her shoulders. "What humbug!""It's the truth," affirmed Mlle. Lucienne; "and you know that Inever lie."Mme. Zelie was dumbfounded.

"If you say so," she muttered. "But no matter: that's queer."M. de Tregars interrupted her with a gesture,"And, what's more, it is because Lucienne is my sister that you seeher there lying upon that bed. They attempted to murder her to-day!""Oh!""It was her mother who tried to get rid of her, so as to possessherself of the fortune which my father had left her; and there isevery reason to believe that the snare was contrived by VincentFavoral."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,"Why," she exclaimed, "what a horrid rascal that old Vincent mustbe!"And, as M. de Tregars remained dumb,"This afternoon," she went on, "I didn't tell you any stories; butI didn't tell you every thing, either." She stopped; and, after amoment of deliberation,"'Well, I don't care for old Vincent," she said. "Ah! he tried tohave Lucienne killed, did he? Well, then, I am going to tell everything I know. First of all, he wasn't any thing to me. It isn'tvery flattering; but it is so. He has never kissed so much as theend of my finger. He used to say that he loved me, but that herespected me still more, because I looked so much like a daughterhe had lost. Old humbug! And I believed him too! I did, upon myword, at least in the beginning. But I am not such a fool as Ilook. I found out very soon that he was making fun of me; and thathe was only using me as a blind to keep suspicion away from anotherwoman.""From what woman?""Ah! now, I do not know! All I know is that she is married, thathe is crazy about her, and that they are to run away together.""Hasn't he gone, then?"Mme. Cadelle's face had become somewhat anxious, and for over aminute she seemed to hesitate.

"Do you know," she said at last, "that my answer is going to costme a lot? They have promised me a pile of money; but I haven't gotit yet. And, if I say any thing, good-by! I sha'n't have any thing."M. de Tregars was opening his lips to tell her that she might resteasy on that score; but she cut him short.

"Well, no," she said: "Old Vincent hasn't gone. He got up a comedy,so he told me, to throw the lady's husband off the track. He sentoff a whole lot of baggage by the railroad; but he staid in Paris.""And do you know where he is hid?""In the Rue St. Lazare, of course: in the apartment that I hiredtwo weeks ago."In a voice trembling with the excitement of almost certain success,"Would you consent to take me there?" asked M. de Tregars.

"Whenever you like,-to-morrow."IXAs he left Mlle. Lucienne's room,"There is nothing more to keep me at the Hotel des Folies," saidthe commissary of police to Maxence. "Every thing possible will bedone, and well done, by M. de Tregars. I am going home, therefore;and I am going to take you with me. I have a great deal to do andyou'll help me."That was not exactly true; but he feared, on the part of Maxence,some imprudence which might compromise the success of M. deTregars' mission.

He was trying to think of every thing to leave as little as possibleto chance; like a man who has seen the best combined plans fail forwant of a trifling precaution.

Once in the yard, he opened the door of the lodge where thehonorable Fortins, man and wife, were deliberating, and exchangingtheir conjectures, instead of going to bed. For they werewonderfully puzzled by all those events that succeeded each other,and anxious about all these goings and comings.

"I am going home," the commissary said to them; "but, before that,listen to my instructions. You will allow no one, you understand,- no one who is not known to you, to go up to Mlle. Lucienne'sroom. And remember that I will admit of no excuse, and that youmust not come and tell me afterwards, 'It isn't our fault, we can'tsee everybody that comes in,' and all that sort of nonsense."He was speaking in that harsh and imperious tone of whichpolice-agents have the secret, when they are addressing people whohave, by their conduct, placed themselves under their dependence.

"We are going to close our front-door," replied the estimablehotel-keepers. " We will comply strictly with your orders.""I trust so; because, if you should disobey me, I should hear it,and the result would be a serious trouble to you. Besides yourhotel being unmercifully closed up, you would find yourselvesimplicated in a very bad piece of business.

The most ardent curiosity could be read in Mme. Fortin's little eyes.

"I understood at once," she began, "that something extraordinarywas going on."But the commissary interrupted her,"I have not done yet. It may be that to-night or to-morrow someone will call and inquire how Mlle. Lucienne is.""And then?""You will answer that she is as bad as possible; and that she hasneither spoken a word, nor recovered her senses, since the accident;and that she will certainly not live through the day."The effort which Mme. Fortin made to remain silent gave, better thanany thing else, an idea of the terror with which the commissaryinspired her.

"That is not all," he went on. "As soon as the person in questionhas started off, you will follow him, without affectation, as faras 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 theBoulevard.""And suppose he should not be there?""He shall be there. You can make yourself easy on that score."The looks of distress which the honorable hotel-keepers wereexchanging did not announce a very tranquil conscience.

"In other words, here we are under surveillance," said M. Fortinwith a groan. "What have we done to be thus mistrusted?"To reply to him would have been a task more long than difficult.

"Do as I tell you," insisted the commissary harshly, "and don'tmind the rest, and, meantime, good-night."He was right in trusting implicitly to his agent's punctuality;for, as soon as he came out of the Hotel des Folies, a man passedby him, and without seeming to address him, or even to recognizehim, said in a whisper,"What news?"Nothing," he replied, "except that the Fortins are notified. Thetrap is well set. Keep your eyes open now, and spot any one whocomes to ask about Mlle. Lucienne.

And he hurried on, still followed by Maxence, who walked along likea body without soul, tortured by the most frightful anguish.

As he had been away the whole evening, four or five persons werewaiting for him at his office on matters of current business. Hedespatched them in less than no time; after which, addressinghimself to an agent on duty,"This evening," he said, "at about nine o'clock, in a restaurant onthe Boulevard, a quarrel took place. A person tried to pick aquarrel with another.

"You will proceed at once to that restaurant; you will get theparticulars of what took place; and you will ascertain exactly whothis man is, his name, his profession, and his residence."Like a man accustomed to such errands,"Can I have a description of him?" inquired the agent.

"Yes. He is a man past middle age, military bearing, heavy mustache,ribbons in his buttonhole.""Yes, I see: one of your regular fighting fellows.""Very well. Go then. I shall not retire before your return. Ah,I forgot; find out what they thought to-night on the 'street' aboutthe Mutual Credit affair, and what they said of the arrest of oneSaint Pavin, editor of 'The Financial Pilot,' and of a banker namedJottras.""Can I take a carriage?""Do so."The agent started; and he was not fairly out of the house, when thecommissary, opening a door which gave into a small study, called,"Felix!

It was his secretary, a man of about thirty, blonde, with a gentleand timid countenance, having, with his long coat, somewhat theappearance of a theological student. He appeared immediately.

"You call me, sir?""My dear Felix," replied the commissary, "I have seen you, sometimes,imitate very nicely all sorts of hand-writings."The secretary blushed very much, no doubt on account of Maxence, whowas sitting by the side of his employer. He was a very honestfellow; but there are certain little talents of which people do notlike to boast; and the talent of imitating the writing of others isof the number, for the reason, that, fatally and at once, it suggeststhe idea of forgery.

"It was only for fun that I used to do that, sir," he stammered.

"Would you be here if it had been otherwise?" said the commissary.

"Only this time it is not for fun, but to do me a favor that Iwish you to try again."And, taking out of his pocket the letter taken by M. de Tregarsfrom the man in the restaurant,"Examine this writing," he said. "and see whether you feel capableof imitating it tolerably well."Spreading the letter under the full light of the lamp, the secretaryspent at least two minutes examining it with the minute attention ofan expert. And at the same time he was muttering,"Not at all convenient, this. Hard writing to imitate. Not asalient feature, not a characteristic sign! Nothing to strike theeye, or attract attention. It must be some old lawyer's clerk whowrote this."In spite of his anxiety of mind, the commissary smiled.

"I shouldn't be surprised if you had guessed right."Thus encouraged,"At any rate." Felix declared, "I am going to try."He took a pen, and, after trying a dozen times,"How is this?" he asked, holding out a sheet of paper.

The commissary carefully compared the original with the copy.

"It is not perfect," he murmured; "but at night, with the imaginationexcited by a great peril - Besides, we must risk something.""If I had a few hours to practise!""But you have not. Come, take up your pen, and write as well asyou can, in that same hand, what I am going to tell you."And after a moment's thought, he dictated as follows"All goes well. T. drawn into a quarrel, is to fight in the morningwith swords. But our man, whom I cannot leave, refuses to go ahead,unless he is paid two thousand francs before the duel. I have notthe amount. Please hand it to the bearer, who has orders to waitfor you."The commissary, leaning over his secretary's shoulder, was followinghis hand, and, the last word being written,"Perfect! "he exclaimed. "Now quick, the address: Mme. le Baronnede Thaller, Rue de le Pepiniere."There are professions which extinguish, in those who exercise them,all curiosity. It is with the most complete indifference, andwithout asking a question, that the secretary had done what he hadbeen requested.

"Now, my dear Felix," resumed the commissary, you will please getyourself up as near as possible like a restaurant-waiter, and takethis letter to its address.""At this hour!""Yes. The Baroness de Thaller is out to a ball. You will tell theservants that you are bringing her an answer concerning an importantmatter. They know nothing about it; but they will allow you to waitfor their mistress in the porter's lodge. As soon as she comes in,you will hand her the letter, stating that two gentlemen who aretaking supper in your restaurant are waiting for the answer. It maybe that she will exclaim that you are a scoundrel, that she does notknow what it means: in that case, we shall have been anticipated, andyou must get away as fast as you can. But the chances are, that shewill give you two thousand francs; and then you must so manage, thatshe will be seen plainly when she does it. Is it all understood?"Perfectly.""Go ahead, then, and do not lose a minute. I shall wait."Away from Mlle. Lucienne, Maxence had gradually been recalled tothe strangeness of the situation; and it was with a mingled feelingof curiosity and surprise that he observed the commissary actingand bustling about.

The good man had found again all the activity of his youth, togetherwith that fever of hope and that impatience of success, whichusually disappear with age.

He was going over the whole of the case again, - his first meetingwith Mlle. Lucienne, the various attempts upon her life; and he hadjust taken out of the file the letter of information which had beenintrusted to him, in order to compare the writing with that of theletter taken from his adversary by M. de Tregars, when the lattercame in all out of breath.

"Zelie has spoken!" he said.

And, at once addressing Maxence,"You, my dear friend," he resumed, "you must run to the Hotel desFolies.""Is Lucienne worse?""No. Lucienne is getting on well enough. Zelie has spoken; butthere is no certainty, that, after due reflection, she will notrepent, and go and give the alarm. You will return, therefore,and you will not lose sight of her until I call for her in themorning. If she wishes to go out, you must prevent her."The commissary had understood the importance of the precaution.

"You must prevent her," he added, "even by force; and I authorizeyou, 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 wordimmediately."Maxence started off on a run.

"Poor fellow!" murmured Marius, "I know where your father is. Whatare we going to learn now?"He had scarcely had time to communicate the information he hadreceived from Mme. Cadelle, when the first of the commissary'semissaries made his appearance.

"The commission is done," he said, in that confident tone of a manwho thinks he has successfully accomplished a difficult task.

"You know the name of the individual who sought a quarrel with M.

de Tregars?""His name is Corvi. He is well known in all the tables d'hote,where there are women, and where they deal a healthy little gameafter dinner. I know him well too. He is a bad fellow, who passeshimself off for a former superior officer in the Italian army.

"His address?""He lives at Rue de la Michodiere, in a furnished house. I wentthere. The porter told me that my man had just gone out with anill-looking individual, and that they must be in a little caf onthe corner of the next street. I ran there, and found my twofellows drinking beer.""Won't they give us the slip?""No danger of that: I have got them fixed.""How is that?""It is an idea of mine. I just thought, 'Suppose they put off?'

And at once I went to notify some policemen, and I returned tostation myself near the caf . It was just closing up. My twofellows came out: I picked a quarrel with them; and now they arein the station-house, well recommended."The commissary knit his brows.

"That's almost too much zeal," he murmured. "Well, what's done isdone. Did you make any inquiries about the Saint Pavin and Jottrasmatter?""I had no time, it was too late. You forget, perhaps, sir, that itis nearly two o'clock."Just as he got through, the secretary who had been sent to the Ruede la Pepiniere came in.

"Well?" inquired the commissary, not without evident anxiety.

"I waited for Mme. de Thaller over an hour," he said. "When shecame home, I gave her the letter. She read it; and, in presence ofa number of her servants, she handed me these two thousand francs."At the sight of the bank notes, the commissary jumped to his feet.

"Now we have it!" he exclaimed. "Here is the proof that we wanted."
Chapter VII
But already, at this time, M. Vincent Favoral's situation had beensingularly modified.

The revolution of 1848 had just taken place. The factory in theFaubourg St. Antoine, where he was employed, had been compelled toclose its doors.

One evening, as he came home at the usual hour, he announced thathe had been discharged.

Mme. Favoral shuddered at the thought of what her husband might be,without work, and deprived of his salary.

"What is to become of us?" she murmured.

He shrugged his shoulders. Visibly he was much excited. His cheekswere flushed; his eyes sparkled.

"Bash!" he said: "we shan't starve for all that." And, as his wifewas gazing at him in astonishment:

Well, he went o what are looking at? It is so: I know many a onewho affects to live on his income, and who are not as well off aswe are."It was, for over six years since he was married, the first time thathe spoke of his business otherwise than to groan and complain, toaccuse fate, and curse the high price of living. The very day before,he had declared himself ruined by the purchase of a pair of shoesfor Maxence. The change was so sudden and so great, that she hardlyknew what to think, and wondered if grief at the loss of his situationhad not somewhat disturbed his mind.

"Such are women," he went on with a giggle. "Results astonish them,because they know nothing of the means used to bring them about. AmI a fool, then? Would I impose upon myself privations of all sorts,if it were to accomplish nothing? Parbleu! I love fine livingtoo, I do, and good dinners at the restaurant, and the theatre, andthe nice little excursions in the country. But I want to be rich.

At the price of all the comforts which I have not had, I have saveda capital, the income of which will support us all. Eh, eh! That'sthe power of the little penny put out to fatten!"As she went to bed that night, Mme. Favoral felt more happy than shehad done since her mother's death. She almost forgave her husbandhis sordid parsimony, and the humiliations he had heaped upon her.

"Well, be it so," she thought. "I shall have lived miserably, I shallhave endured nameless sufferings; but my children shall be rich, theirlife shall be easy and pleasant."The next day M. Favoral's excitement had completely abated.

Manifestly he regretted his confidences.

"You must not think on that account that you can waste and pillageevery thing," he declared rudely. "Besides, I have greatlyexaggerated."And he started in search of a situation.

To find one was likely to be difficult. Times of revolution are notexactly propitious to industry. Whilst the parties discussed in theChamber, there were on the street twenty thousand clerks, who, everymorning as they rose, wondered where they would dine that day.

For want of any thing better, Vincent Favoral undertook to keepbooks in various places, - an hour here, an hour there, twice a weekin one house, four times in another.

In this way he earned as much and more than he did at the factory;but the business did not suit him.

What he liked was the office from which one does not stir, thestove-heated atmosphere, the elbow-worn desk, the leather-cushionedchair, the black alpaca sleeves over the coat. The idea that heshould on one and the same day have to do with five or six differenthouses, and be compelled to walk an hour, to go and work another hourat the other end of Paris, fairly irritated him. He found himselfout of his reckoning, like a horse who has turned a mill for tenyears; if he is made to trot straight before him.

So, one morning, he gave up the whole thing, swearing that he wouldrather remain idle until he could find a place suited to his tasteand his convenience; and, in the mean time, all they would have todo would be to put a little less butter in the soup, and a littlemore water in the wine.

He went out, nevertheless, and remained until dinner-time. And hedid the same the next and the following days.

He started off the moment he had swallowed the last mouthful of hisbreakfast, came home at six o'clock, dined in haste, and disappearedagain, not to return until about midnight. He had hours of deliriousjoy, and moments of frightful discouragement. Sometimes he seemedhorribly uneasy.

"What can he be doing?" thought Mme. Favoral.

She ventured to ask him the question one morning, when he was infine humor.

"Well," he answered, "am I not the master? I am operating at thebourse, that's all!"He could hardly have owned to any thing that would have frightenedthe poor woman as much.

"Are you not afraid," she objected, "to lose all we have sopainfully accumulated? We have children -"He did not allow her to proceed.

"Do you take me for a child?" he exclaimed; "or do I look to youlike a man so easy to be duped? Mind to economize in your householdexpenses, and don't meddle with my business."And he continued. And he must have been lucky in his operations;for he had never been so pleasant at home. All his ways had changed.

He had had clothes made at a first-class tailor's, and was evidentlytrying to look elegant. He gave up his pipe, and smoked only cigars.

He got tired of giving every morning the money for the house, andtook the habit of handing it to his wife every week, on Sunday. Amark of vast confidence, as he observed to her. And so, the firsttime:

"Be careful," he said, "that you don't find yourself pennilessbefore Thursday."He became also more communicative. Often during the dinner, hewould tell what he had heard during the day, anecdotes, gossip.

He enumerated the persons with whom he had spoken. He named anumber of people whom he called his friends, and whose names Mme.

Favoral carefully stored away in her memory.

There was one especially, who seemed to inspire him with a profoundrespect, a boundless admiration, and of whom he never tired oftalking. He was, said he, a man of his age, - M. de Thaller, theBaron de Thaller.

"This one," he kept repeating, "is really mad: he is rich, he hasideas, he'll go far. It would be a great piece of luck if I couldget him to do something for me!"Until at last one day:

"Your parents were very rich once.?" he asked his wife.

"I have heard it said," she answered.

"They spent a good deal of money, did they not? They had friends:

they gave dinner-parties.""Yes, they received a good deal of company.""You remember that time?""Surely I do.""So that if I should take a fancy to receive some one here, someone of note, you would know how to do things properly?""I think so."He remained silent for a moment, like a man who thinks before takingan important decision, and then:

"I wish to invite a few persons to dinner," he said. She couldscarcely believe her ears. He had never received at his table anyone but a fellow-clerk at the factory, named Desclavettes, who hadjust married the daughter of a dealer in bronzes, and succeeded tohis business.

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Mme. Favoral.

"So it is. The question is now, How much would a first-class dinnercost, the best of every thing?""That depends upon the number of guests.""Say three or four persons."The poor woman set herself to figuring diligently for some time;and then timidly, for the sum seemed formidable to her:

"I think," she began, "that with a hundred francs "Her husband commenced whistling.

"You'll need that for the wines alone;' he interrupted. "Do youtake me for a fool? But here, don't let us go into figures. Do asyour parents did when they did their best; and, if it's well, Ishall not complain of the expense. Take a good cook, hire a waiterwho understands his business well."She was utterly confounded; and yet she was not at the end of hersurprises.

Soon M. Favoral declared that their table-ware was not suitable, andthat he must buy a new set. He discovered a hundred purchases tobe made, and swore that he would make them. He even hesitated amoment about renewing the parlor furniture, although it was intolerably good condition still, and was a present from hisfather-in-law.

And, having finished his inventory:

"And you," he asked his wife: "what dress will you wear?""I have my black silk dress -"He stopped her.

"Which means that you have none at all," he said. "Very well. Youmust go this very day and get yourself one, - a very handsome, amagnificent one; and you'll send it to be made to a fashionabledressmaker. And at the same time you had better get some littlesuits for Maxence and Gilberte. Here are a thousand francs."Completely bewildered:

"Who in the world are you going to invite, then?" she asked.

"The Baron and the Baroness de Thaller," he replied with an emphasisfull of conviction. "So try and distinguish yourself. Our fortuneis at stake."That this dinner was a matter of considerable import, Mme. Favoralcould not doubt when she saw her husband's fabulous liberalitycontinue without flinching for a number of days.

Ten times of an afternoon he would come home to tell his wife thename of some dish that had been mentioned before him, or to consulther on the subject of some exotic viand he had just noticed in someshop-window. Daily he brought home wines of the most fantasticvintages, - those wines which dealers manufacture for the specialuse of verdant fools, and which they sell in odd-shaped bottlespreviously overlaid with secular dust and cobwebs.

He subjected to a protracted cross-examination the cook whom Mme.

Favoral had engaged, and demanded that she should enumerate thehouses where she had cooked. He absolutely required the man who wasto wait at the table to exhibit the dress-coat he was to wear.

The great day having come, he did not stir from the house, goingand coming from the kitchen to the dining-room, uneasy, agitated,unable to stay in one place. He breathed only when he had seen thetable set and loaded with the new china he had purchased and themagnificent silver he had gone to hire in person. And when hisyoung wife made her appearance, looking lovely in her new dress,and leading by the hands the two children, Maxence and Gilberte, intheir new suits:

"That's perfect," he exclaimed, highly delighted. "Nothing could bebetter. Now, let our four guests come!

They arrived a few minutes before seven, in two carriages, themagnificence of which astonished the Rue St. Gilles.

And, the presentations over, Vincent Favoral had at last theineffable satisfaction to see seated at his table the Baron andBaroness de Thaller, M. Saint Pavin, who called himself a financialeditor, and M. Jules Jottras, of the house of Jottras & Brother.

It was with an eager curiosity that Mme. Favoral observed thesepeople whom her husband called his friends, and whom she saw herselffor the first time.

M. de Thaller, who could not then have been much over thirty, wasalready a man without any particular age.

Cold, stiff, aping evidently the English style, he expressedhimself in brief sentences, and with a strong foreign accent.

Nothing to surprise on his countenance. He had the foreheadprominent, the eyes of a dull blue, and the nose very thin. Hisscanty hair was spread over the top of his head with laboredsymmetry; and his red, thick, and carefully-trimmed whiskers seemedto engross much of his attention.

M. Saint Pavin had not the same stiff manner. Careless in hisdress, he lacked breeding. He was a robust fellow, dark and bearded,with thick lips, the eye bright and prominent, spreading upon thetable-cloth broad hands ornamented at the joints with small tufts ofhair, speaking loud, laughing noisily, eating much and drinking more.

By the side of him, M. Jules Jottras, although looking like afashion-plate, did not show to much advantage. Delicate, blonde,sallow, almost beardless, M. Jottras distinguished himself only bya sort of unconscious impudence, a harmless cynicism, and a sort ofspasmodic giggle, that shook the eye-glasses which he wore stuckover his nose.

But it was above all Mme. de Thaller who excited Mme. Favoral'sapprehensions.

Dressed with a magnificence of at least questionable taste, verymuch decolletee, wearing large diamonds at her ears, and rings onall her fingers, the young baroness was insolently handsome, of abeauty sensuous even to coarseness. With hair of a bluish black,twisted over the neck in heavy ringlets, she had skin of a pearlywhiteness, lips redder than blood, and great eyes that threw flamesfrom beneath their long, curved lashes. It was the poetry of flesh;and one could not help admiring. Did she speak, however, or makea gesture, all admiration vanished. The voice was vulgar, the motioncommon. Did M. Jouras venture upon a double-entendre, she wouldthrow herself back upon her chair to laugh, stretching her neck, andthrusting her throat forward.

Wholly absorbed in the care of his guests, M. Favoral remarkednothing. He only thought of loading the plates, and filling theglasses, complaining that they ate and drank nothing, askinganxiously if the cooking was not good, if the wines were bad, andalmost driving the waiter out of his wits with questions andsuggestions.

It is a fact, that neither M. de Thaller nor M. Jottras had muchappetite. But M. Saint Pavin officiated for all; and the sole taskof keeping up with him caused M. Favoral to become visibly animated.

His cheeks were much flushed, when, having passed the champagne allaround, he raised his froth-tipped glass, exclaiming:

"I drink to the success of the business.""To the success of the business," echoed the others, touching hisglass.

And a few moments later they passed into the parlor to take coffee.

This toast had caused Mme. Favoral no little uneasiness. But shefound it impossible to ask a single question; Mme. de Thallerdragging her almost by force to a seat by her side on the sofa,pretending that two women always have secrets to exchange, even whenthey see each other for the first time.

The young baroness was fully an fait in matters of bonnets anddresses; and it was with giddy volubility that she asked Mme.

Favoral the names of her milliner and her dressmaker, and to whatjeweler she intrusted her diamonds to be reset.

This looked so much like a joke, that the poor housekeeper of theRue St. Gilles could not help smiling whilst answering that she hadno dressmaker, and that, having no diamonds, she had no possibleuse for the services of a jeweler.

The other declared she could not get over it. No diamonds! Thatwas a misfortune exceeding all. And quick she seized the opportunitycharitably to enumerate the parures in her jewel-case, and laces inher drawers, and the dresses in her wardrobes, In the first place, itwould have been impossible for her, she swore, to live with a husbandeither miserly or poor. Hers had just presented her with a lovelycoupe, lined with yellow satin, a perfect bijon. And she made gooduse of it too; for she loved to go about. She spent her daysshopping, or riding in the Bois. Every evening she had the choiceof the theatre or a ball, often both. The genre theatres were thoseshe preferred. To be sure, the opera and the Italians were morestylish; but she could not help gaping there.

Then she wished to kiss the children; and Gilberte and Maxence hadto be brought in. She adored children, she vowed: it was herweakness, her passion. She had herself a little girl, eighteenmonths old, called Cesarine, to whom she was devoted; and certainlyshe would have brought her, had she not feared she would have beenin the way.

All this verbiage sounded like a confused murmur to Mme. Favoral'sears. "Yes, no," she answered, hardly knowing to what she did answer.

Her head heavy with a vague apprehension, it required her utmostattention to observe her husband and his guests.

Standing by the mantel-piece, smoking their cigars, they conversedwith considerable animation, but not loud enough to enable her tohear all they said. It was only when M. Saint Pavin spoke that sheunderstood that they were still discussing the "business;" for hespoke of articles to publish, stocks to sell, dividends to distribute,sure profits to reap.

They all, at any rate, seemed to agree perfectly; and at a certainmoment she saw her husband and M. de Thaller strike each other'shand, as people do who exchange a pledge.

Eleven o'clock struck.

M. Favoral was insisting to make his guests accept a cup of tea ora glass of punch; but M. de Thaller declared that he had some workto do, and that, his carriage having come, he must go.

And go he did, taking with him the baroness, followed by M. SaintPavin and M. Jottras. And when, the door having closed upon them,M. Favoral found himself alone with his wife,"Well," he exclaimed, swelling with gratified vanity, "what do youthink of our friends?""They surprised me," she answered.

He fairly jumped at that word.

"I should like to know why?"Then, timidly, and with infinite precautions, she commencedexplaining that M. de Thaller'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 youngbaroness had given her of herself the most singular idea.

M. Favoral refused to hear more.

"It's because you have never seen people of the best society," heexclaimed.

"Excuse me. Formerly, during my mother's life -""Eh! Your mother never received but shop-keepers."The poor woman dropped her head.

"I beg of you, Vincent," she insisted, "before doing any thing withthese new friends, think well, consult -"He burst out laughing.

"Are you not afraid that they will cheat me?" he said, - "people tentimes as rich as we are. Here, don't let us speak of it any more,and let us go to bed. You'll see what this dinner will bring us, andwhether I ever have reason to regret the money we have spent."
Chapter VIII
When, on the morning after this dinner, which was to form an era inher life, Mme. Favoral woke up, her husband was already up, pencilin hand, and busy figuring.

The charm had vanished with the fumes of the champagne; and theclouds of the worst days were gathering upon his brow.

Noticing that his wife was looking at him,"It's expensive work," he said in a bluff tone, "to set a businessgoing; and it wouldnt do to commence over again every day."To hear him speak, one would have thought that Mme. Favoral alone,by dint of hard begging, had persuaded him, into that expense whichhe now seemed to regret so much. She quietly called his attentionto the fact, reminding him that, far from urging, she had endeavoredto hold him back; repeating that she augured ill of that businessover which he was so enthusiastic, and that, if he would believe her,he would not venture.

"Do you even know what the project is?" he interrupted rudely.

"You have not told me.""Very well, then: leave me in peace with your presentiments. Youdislike my friends; and I saw very well how you treated Mme. deThaller. But I am the master; and what I have decided shall be.

Besides, I have signed. Once for all, I forbid you ever speakingto me again on that subject."Whereupon, having dressed himself with much care, he started off,saying that he was expected at breakfast by Saint Pavin, thefinancial editor, and by M. Jottras, of the house of Jottras& Brother.

A shrewd woman would not have given it up so easy, and, in the end,would probably have mastered the despot, whose intellect was farfrom brilliant. But Mme. Favoral was too proud to be shrewd; andbesides, the springs of her will had been broken by the successiveoppression of an odious stepmother and a brutal master. Herabdication of all was complete. Wounded, she kept the secret ofher wound, hung her head, and said nothing.

She did not, therefore, venture a single allusion; and nearly aweek elapsed, during which the names of her late guests were notonce mentioned.

It was through a newspaper, which M. Favoral had forgotten in theparlor, that she learned that the Baron de Thaller had just foundeda new stock company, the Mutual Credit Society, with a capital ofseveral millions.

Below the advertisement, which was printed in enormous letters,came a long article, in which it was demonstrated that the newcompany was, at the same time, a patriotic undertaking and aninstitution of credit of the first class; that it supplied a greatpublic want; that it would be of inestimable benefit to industry;that its profits were assured; and that to subscribe to its stockwas simply to draw short bills upon fortune.

Already somewhat re-assured by the reading of this article, Mme.

Favoral became quite so when she read the names of the board ofdirectors. Nearly all were titled, and decorated with many foreignorders; and the remainder were bankers, office-holders, and evensome exministers.

"I must have been mistaken," she thought, yielding unconsciously tothe influence of printed evidence.

And no objection occurred to her, when, a few days later, herhusband told her,"I have the situation I wanted. I am head cashier of the companyof which M. de Thaller is manager."That was all. Of the nature of this society, of the advantageswhich it offered him, not one word.

Only by the way in which he expressed himself did Mme. Favoral judgethat he must have been well treated; and he further confirmed her inthat opinion by granting her, of his own accord, a few additionalfrancs for the daily expenses of the house.

"We must," he declared on this memorable occasion, "do honor to oursocial position, whatever it may cost."For the first time in his life, he seemed heedful of public opinion.

He recommended his wife to be careful of her dress and of that ofthe children, and re-engaged a servant. He expressed the wish ofenlarging their circle of acquaintances, and inaugurated his Saturdaydinners, to which came assiduously, M. and Mme. Desclavettes, M.

Chapelain the attorney, the old man Desormeaux, and a few others.

As to himself he gradually settled down into those habits fromwhich he was nevermore to depart, and the chronometric regularityof which had secured him the nickname of Old Punctuality, of whichhe was proud.

In all other respects never did a man, to such a degree, become soutterly indifferent to his wife and children. His house was for himbut a mere hotel, where he slept, and took his evening meal. Henever thought of questioning his wife as to the use of her time, andwhat she did in his absence. Provided she did not ask him for money,and was there when he came home, he was satisfied.

Many women, at Mme. Favoral's age, might have made a strange use ofthat insulting indifference and of that absolute freedom.

If she did avail herself of it, it was solely to follow one of thoseinspirations which can only spring in a mother's heart.

The increase in the budget of the household was relatively large, butso nicely calculated, that she had not one cent more that she couldcall her own.

With the most intense sorrow, she thought that her children mighthave to endure the humiliating privations which had made her ownlife wretched. They were too young yet to suffer from the paternalparsimony; but they would grow; their desires would develop; and itwould be impossible for her to grant them the most innocentsatisfactions.

Whilst turning over and over in her mind this distressing thought,she remembered a friend of her mother's, who kept, in the Rue St.

Denis, a large establishment for the sale of hosiery and woollengoods. There, perhaps, lay the solution of the problem. She calledto see the worthy woman, and, without even needing to confess thewhole truth to her, she obtained sundry pieces of work, ill paidas a matter of course, but which, by dint of close application,might be made to yield from eight to twelve francs a week.

From this time she never lost a minute, concealing her work as ifit were an evil act.

She knew her husband well enough to feel certain that he wouldbreak out, and swear that he spent money enough to enable his wifeto live without being reduced to making a work woman of herself.

But what joy, the day when she hid way down at the bottom of adrawer the first twenty-franc-piece she had earned, a beautifulgold-piece, which belonged to her without contest, and which shemight spend as she pleased, without having to render any accountto any one!

And with what pride, from week to week, she saw her little treasureswell, despite the drafts she made upon it, sometimes to buy a toyfor Maxence, sometimes to add a few ribbons or trinkets to Gilberte'stoilet!

This was the happiest time of her life, a halt in that painfuljourney through which she had been dragging herself for so manyyears. Between her two children, the hours flew light and rapidas so many seconds. If all the hopes of the young girl and of thewoman had withered before they had blossomed, the mother's joys,at least should not fail her. Because, whilst the present sufficedto her modest ambition, the future had ceased to cause her anyuneasiness.

No reference had ever been made, between herself and her husband,to that famous dinner-party: he never spoke to her of the MutualCredit Society; but now and then he allowed some words or exclamationsto escape, which she carefully recorded, and which betrayed aprosperous state of affairs.

"That Thaller is a tough fellow!" he would exclaim, "and he has themost infernal luck!"And at other times,"Two or three more operations like the one we have just successfullywound up, and we can shut up shop!"From all this, what could she conclude, if not that he was marchingwith rapid strides towards that fortune, the object of all hisambition?

Already in the neighborhood he had that reputation to be very rich,which is the beginning of riches itself. He was admired for keepinghis house with such rigid economy; for a man is always esteemed whohas money, and does not spend it.

"He is not the man ever to squander what he has," the neighborsrepeated.

The persons whom he received on Saturdays believed him more thancomfortably off. When M. Desclavettes and M. Chapelain hadcomplained to their hearts' contents, the one of the shop, theother of his office, they never failed to add,"You laugh at us, because you are engaged in large operations, wherepeople make as much money as they like."They seemed to hold his financial capacities in high estimation.

They consulted him, and followed his advice.

M. Desormeaux was wont to say,"Oh! he knows what he is about."And Mme. Favoral tried to persuade herself, that, in this respectat least, her husband was a remarkable man. She attributed hissilence and his distractions to the grave cares that filled his mind.

In the same manner that he had once announced to her that they hadenough to live on, she expected him, some fine morning, to tell herthat he was a millionaire.
Chapter IX
But the respite granted by fate to Mme. Favoral was drawing to anend: her trials were about to return more poignant than ever,occasioned, this time, by her children, hitherto her whole happinessand her only consolation.

Maxence was nearly twelve. He was a good little fellow, intelligent,studious at times, but thoughtless in the extreme, and of aturbulence which nothing could tame.

At the Massin School, where he had been sent, he made his teachers'

hair turn white; and not a week went by that he did not signalizehimself by some fresh misdeed.

A father like any other would have paid but slight attention to thepranks of a schoolboy, who, after all, ranked among the first of hisclass, and of whom the teachers themselves, whilst complaining, said,"Bash! What matters it, since the heart is sound and the mind sane?"But M. Favoral took every thing tragically. If Maxence was kept in,or otherwise punished, he pretended that it reflected upon himself,and that his son was disgracing him.

If a report came home with this remark, "execrable conduct," he fellinto the most violent passion, and seemed to lose all control ofhimself.

"At your age," he would shout to the terrified boy, "I was workingin a factory, and earning my livelihood. Do you suppose that Iwill not tire of making sacrifices to procure you the advantagesof an education which I lacked myself? Beware. Havre is not faroff; and cabin-boys are always in demand there."If, at least, he had confined himself to these admonitions, which,by their very exaggeration, failed in their object! But he favoredmechanical appliances as a necessary means of sufficiently impressingreprimands upon the minds of young people; and therefore, seizinghis cane, he would beat poor Maxence most unmercifully, the more sothat the boy, filled with pride, would have allowed himself to bechopped to pieces rather than utter a cry, or shed a tear.

The first time that Mme. Favoral saw her son struck, she was seizedwith one of those wild fits of anger which do not reason, and neverforgive. To be beaten herself would have seemed to her lessatrocious, less humiliating. Hitherto she had found it impossibleto love a husband such as hers: henceforth, she took him in utteraversion: he inspired her with horror. She looked upon her son asa martyr for whom she could hardly ever do enough.

And so, after these harrowing scenes, she would press him to herheart in the most passionate embrace; she would cover with her kissesthe traces of the blows; and she would strive, by the most deliriouscaresses, to make him forget the paternal brutalities. With him shesobbed. Like him, she would shake her clinched fists in the vacantspace; exclaiming, "Coward, tyrant, assassin!" The little Gilbertemingled her tears with theirs; and, pressed against each other, theydeplored their destiny, cursing the common enemy, the head of thefamily.

Thus did Maxence spend his boyhood between equally fatalexaggerations, between the revolting brutalities of his father, andthe dangerous caresses of his mother; the one depriving him of everything, the other refusing him nothing.

For Mme. Favoral had now found a use for her humble savings.

If the idea had never come to the cashier of the Mutual CreditSociety to put a few sous in his son's pocket, the too weak motherwould have suggested to him the want of money in order to have thepleasure of gratifying it.

She who had suffered so many humiliations in her life, she could notbear the idea of her son having his pride wounded, and being unableto indulge in those little trifling expenses which are the vanityof schoolboys.

"Here, take this," she would tell him on holidays, slipping a fewfrancs into his hands.

Unfortunately, to her present she joined the recommendation not toallow his father to know any thing about it; forgetting that she wasthus training Maxence to dissimulate, warping his natural sense ofright, and perverting his instincts:

No, she gave; and, to repair the gaps thus made in her treasure, sheworked to the point of ruining her sight, with such eager zeal, thatthe worthy shop-keeper of the Rue St. Denis asked her if she did notemploy working girls. In truth, the only help she received was fromGilberte, who, at the age of eight, already knew how to make herselfuseful.

And this is not all. For this son, in anticipation of growingexpenses, she stooped to expedients which formerly would have seemedto her unworthy and disgraceful. She robbed the household, cheatingon her own marketing. She went so far as to confide to her servant,and to make of the girl the accomplice of her operations. Sheapplied all her ingenuity to serve to M. Favoral dinners in whichthe excellence of the dressing concealed the want of solid substance.

And on Sunday, when she rendered her weekly accounts, it was withouta blush that she increased by a few centimes the price of each object,rejoicing when she had thus scraped a dozen francs,, and finding, tojustify herself to her own eyes, those sophisms which passion neverlacks.

At first Maxence was too young to wonder from what sources his motherdrew the money she lavished upon his schoolboy fancies. Sherecommended him to hide from his father: he did so, and thought itperfectly natural.

As he grew older, he learned to discern.

The moment came when he opened his eyes upon the system under whichthe paternal household was managed. He noticed there that anxiouseconomy which seems to betray want, and the acrimonious discussionswhich arose upon the inconsiderate use of a twenty-franc-piece. Hesaw his mother realize miracles of industry to conceal the shabbinessof her toilets, and resort to the most skillful diplomacy when shewished to purchase a dress for Gilberte.

And, despite all this, he had at his disposition as much money asthose of his comrades whose parents had the reputation to be themost opulent and the most generous.

Anxious, he questioned his mother.

"Eh what does it matter?" she answered, blushingand confused. "Is that any thing to worry you?"And, as he insisted,"Go ahead," she said: "we are rich enough." But he could hardlybelieve her, accustomed as he was to hear every one talk of poverty;and, as he fixed upon her his great astonished eyes,"Yes," she resumed, with an imprudence which fatally was to bear itsfruits, "we are rich; and, if we live as you see, it is because itsuits your father, who wishes to amass a still greater fortune."This was hardly an answer; and yet Maxence asked no further question.

But he inquired here and there, with that patient shrewdness of youngpeople possessed with a fixed idea.

Already, at this time, M. Favoral had in the neighborhood, and everamong his friends, the reputation to be worth at least a million.

The Mutual Credit Society had considerably developed itself: he must,they thought, have benefitted largely by the circumstance; and theprofits must have swelled rapidly in the hands of so able, a man,and one so noted for his rigid economy.

Such is the substance of what Maxence heard; and people did not failto add ironically, that he need not rely upon the paternal fortuneto amuse himself.

M. Desormeaux himself, whom he had "pumped" rather cleverly, hadtold him, whilst patting him amicably on the shoulder,"If you ever need money for your frolics, young man, try and earnit; for I'll be hanged if it's the old man who'll ever supply it."Such answers complicated, instead of explaining, the problem whichoccupied Maxence.

He observed, he watched; and at last he acquired the certainty thatthe money he spent was the fruit of the joint labor of his motherand sister.

"Ah! why not have told me so?" he exclaimed, throwing his armsaround his mother's neck. "Why have exposed me to the bitter regretswhich I feel at this moment?"By this sole word the poor woman found herself amply repaid. Sheadmired the noblesse of her son's feelings and the kindness of hisheart.

"Do you not understand," she told him, shedding tears of joy, "doyou not see, that the labor which can promote her son's pleasure isa happiness for his mother?"But he was dismayed at his discovery.

"No matter!" he said. "I swear that I shall no longer scatter tothe winds, as I have been doing, the money that you give me.

For a few weeks, indeed, he was faithful to his pledge. But atfifteen resolutions are not very stanch. The impressions he hadfelt wore off. He became tired of the small privations which he hadto impose upon himself.

He soon came to take to the letter what his mother had told him, andto prove to his own satisfaction that to deprive himself of apleasure was to deprive her. He asked for ten francs one day, thenten francs another, and gradually resumed his old habits.

He was at this time about leaving school.

"The moment has come," said M. Favoral, "for him to select a career,and support himself."
Chapter X
It was after four o'clock when M. de Tregars was at last permittedto return home. He had minutely, and at length, arranged everything with the commissary: he had endeavored to anticipate everyeventuality. His line of conduct was perfectly well marked out,and he carried with him the certainty that on the day which wasabout to dawn the strange game that he was playing must be finallywon or lost. When he reached home,"At last, here you are, sir!" exclaimed his faithful servant.

It was doubtless anxiety that had kept up the old man all night; butso absorbed was Marius's mind, that he scarcely noticed the fact.

"Did any one call in my absence?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. A gentleman called during the evening, M. Costeclar, whoappeared very much vexed not to find you in. He stated that he cameon a very important matter that you would know all about: and herequested me to ask you to wait for him to-morrow, that is to-day,by twelve o'clock."Was M. Costeclar sent by M. de Thaller? Had the manager of theMutual Credit changed his mind? and had he decided to accept theconditions which he had at first rejected? In that case, it wastoo late. It was no longer in the power of any human being tosuspend the action of justice. Without giving any further thoughtto that visit,"I am worn out with fatigue," said M. de Tregars, "and I am goingto lie down. At eight o'clock precisely you will call me."But it was in vain that he tried to find a short respite in sleep.

For forty-eight hours his mind had been taxed beyond measure, hisnerves had been wrought up to an almost intolerable degree ofexaltation.

As soon as he closed his eyes, it was with a merciless precisionthat his imagination presented to him all the events which had takenplace since that afternoon in the Place-Royale when he had venturedto declare his love to Mlle. Gilberte. Who could have told him then,that he would engage in that struggle, the issue of which mustcertainly be some abominable scandal in which his name would bemixed? Who could have told him, that gradually, and by the veryforce of circumstances, he would be led to overcome his repugnance,and to rival the ruses and the tortuous combinations of the wretcheshe was trying to reach?

But he was not of those who, once engaged, regret, hesitate, anddraw hack. His conscience reproached him for nothing. It was forjustice and right that he was battling; and Mlle. Gilberte was theprize that would reward him.

Eight o'clock struck; and his servant came in.

"Run for a cab," he said: 'I'll be ready in a moment."He was ready, in fact, when the old servant returned; and, as hehad in his pocket some of those arguments that lend wings to thepoorest cab-horses, in less than ten minutes he had reached theHotel des Folies.

"How is Mlle. Lucienne?" he inquired first of all of the worthyhostess.

The intervention of the commissary of police had made M. Fortin andhis wife more supple than gloves, and more gentle than doves.

"The poor dear child is much better," answered Mme. Fortin; "andthe doctor, who has just left, now feels sure of her recovery. Butthere is a row up there.""A row?""Yes. That lady whom my husband went after last night insists upongoing out; and M. Maxence won't let her: so that they are quarrelingup there. Just listen."The loud noise of a violent altercation could be heard distinctly.

M. de Tregars started up stairs, and on the second-story landing hefound Maxence holding on obstinately to the railing, whilst Mme.

Zelie Cadelle, redder than a peony, was trying to induce him to lether pass, treating him at the same time to some of the choicestepithets of her well-stocked repertory. Catching sight of Marius,"Is it you," she cried, "who gave orders to keep me here against mywishes? By what right? Am I your prisoner?"To irritate her would have been imprudent.

"Why did you wish to leave," said M. de Tregars gently, "at the verymoment when you knew that I was to call for you?"But she interrupted him, and, shrugging her shoulders,"Why don't you tell the truth?" she said. "You were afraid totrust me.""Oh!""You are wrong! What I promise to do I do. I only wanted to gohome to dress. Can I go in the street in this costume?"And she was spreading out her wrapper, all faded and stained.

"I have a carriage below," said Marius. "No one will see us.

Doubtless she understood that it was useless to hesitate.

"As you please," she said.

M. de Tregars took Maxence aside, and in a hurried whisper,"You must," said he, "go at once to the Rue St. Gilles, and in myname request your sister to accompany you. You will take a closedcarriage, and you'll go and wait in the Rue St. Lazare, oppositeNo.25. It may be that Mlle. Gilberte's assistance will becomeindispensable to me. And, as Lucienne must not be left alone, youwill request Mme. Fortin to go and stay with her."And, without waiting for an answer,"Let us go," he said to Mme. Cadelle.

They started but the young woman was far from being in her usualspirits. It was clear that she was regretting bitterly having goneso far, and not having been able to get away at the last moment.

As the carriage went on, she became paler and a frown appeared uponher face.

"No matter," she began: "it's a nasty thing I am doing there.""Do you repent then, assisting me to punish your friend's assassins?"said M. de Tregars.

She shook her head.

"I know very well that old Vincent is a scoundrel," she said; "buthe had trusted me, and I am betraying him.""You are mistaken, madame. To furnish me the means of speaking toM. Favoral is not to betray him; and I shall do every thing in mypower to enable him to escape the police, and make his way abroad.""What a joke!""It is the exact truth: I give you my word of honor." She seemedto feel easier; and, when the carriage turned into the Rue St.

Lazare, "Let us stop a moment," she said.

"Why?""So that I can buy old Vincent's breakfast. He can't go out to eat,of course; and so I have to take all his meals to him."Marius's mistrust was far from being dissipated; and yet he did notthink it prudent to refuse, promising himself, however, not to losesight of Mme. Zelie. He followed her, therefore, to the baker'sand the butcher's; and when she had done her marketing, he enteredwith her the house of modest appearance where she had her apartment.

They were already going up stairs, when the porter ran out of hislodge.

"Madame!" he said, "madame!"Mme. Cadelle stopped.

"What is the matter?""A letter for you.""For me?""Here it is. A lady brought it less than five minutes ago. Really,she looked annoyed not to find you in. But she is going to comeback. She knew you were to be here this morning."M. de Tregars had also stopped.

"What kind of a looking person was this lady?" he asked.

"Dressed all in black, with a thick veil on her face.""All right. I thank you."The porter returned to his lodge. Mme. Zelie broke the seal. Thefirst envelope contained another, upon which she spelt, for she didnot read very fluently, "To be handed to M. Vincent.""Some one knows that he is hiding here," she said in a tone of uttersurprise. "Who can it be?""Who? Why, the woman whose reputation M. Favoral was so anxious tospare when he put you in the Rue du Cirque house."There was nothing that irritated the young woman so much as this idea.

"You are right," she said. "What a fool he made of me; the old rascal!

But never mind. I am going to pay him for it now."Nevertheless when she reached her story, the third, and at the momentof slipping the key into the keyhole, she again seemed perplexed.

"If some misfortune should happen," she sighed.

"What are you afraid of?""Old Vincent has got all sorts of arms in there. He has sworn to methat the first person who forced his way into the apartments, hewould kill him like a dog. Suppose he should fire at us?"She was afraid, terribly afraid: she was livid, and her teethchattered.

"Let me go first," suggested M. de Tregars.

"No. Only, if you were a good fellow, you would do what I am goingto ask you. Say, will you?""If it can be done.""Oh, certainly! Here is the thing. We'll go in together; but youmust not make any noise. There is a large closet with glass doors,from which every thing can be heard and seen that goes on in thelarge room. You'll get in there. I'll go ahead, and draw out oldVincent into the parlor and at the right moment, v'lan! you appear."It was after all, quite reasonable.

"Agreed!" said Marius.

"Then," she said, "every thing will go on right. The entrance ofthe closet with the glass doors is on the right as you go in. Comealong now, and walk easy."And she opened the door.
Chapter XI
The apartment was exactly as described by Mme. Cadelle. In thedark and narrow ante-chamber, three doors opened, - on the left,that of the dining-room; in the centre, that of a parlor andbedroom which communicated; on the right, that of the closet. M.

de Tregars slipped in noiselessly through the latter, and at oncerecognized that Mme. Zelie had not deceived him, and that he wouldsee and hear every thing that went on in the parlor. He saw theyoung woman walk into it. She laid her provisions down upon thetable, and called,"Vincent!"The former cashier of the Mutual Credit appeared at once, comingout of the bedroom.

He was so changed, that his wife and children would have hesitatedin recognizing him. He had cut off his beard, pulled out almostthe whole of his thick eye-brows, and covered his rough andstraight hair under a brown curly wig, 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 fromEnglish stable-boys. He tried to appear calm, careless, and playful;but the contraction of his lips betrayed a horrible anguish, andhis look had the strange mobility of the wild beasts' eye, when,almost at bay, they stop for a moment, listening to the barking ofthe hounds.

"I was beginning to fear that you would disappoint me," he said toMme. Zelie.

"It took me some time to buy your breakfast.""And is that all that kept you?""The porter detained me too, to hand me a letter, in which I foundone for you. Here it is.""A letter!" exclaimed Vincent Favoral.

And, snatching it from her, he tore off the envelope. But he hadscarcely looked over it, when he crushed it in his hand, exclaiming,"It is monstrous! It is a mean, infamous treason!" He wasinterrupted by a violent ringing of the door-bell.

"Who can it be?" stammered Mme. Cadelle.

"I know who it is," replied the former cashier. "Open, open quick."She obeyed; and almost at once a woman walked into the parlor,wearing a cheap, black woolen dress. With a sudden gesture, shethrew off her veil; and M. de Tregars recognized the Baroness deThaller.

"Leave us!" she said to Mme. Zelie, in a tone which one would hardlydare to assume towards a bar-maid.

The other felt indignant.

"What, what!" she began. " I am in my own house here.""Leave us!" repeated M. Favoral with a threatening gesture.

"Go, go!"She went out but only to take refuge by the side of M. de Tregars.

"You hear how they treat me," she said in a hoarse voice.

He made no answer. All his attention was centred upon the parlor.

The Baroness de Thaller and the former cashier were standingopposite each other, like two adversaries about to fight a duel.

"I have just read your letter," began Vincent Favoral.

Coldly the baroness said, "Ah!""It is a joke, I suppose.""Not at all.""You refuse to go with me?""Positively.""And yet it was all agreed upon. I have acted wholly under yoururgent, pressing advice. How many times have you repeated to methat to live with your husband had become an intolerable tormentto you! How many times have you sworn to me that you wished to bemine alone, begging me to procure a large sum of money, and to flywith you!""I was in earnest at the time. I have discovered, at the lastmoment, that it would be impossible for me thus to abandon mycountry, my daughter, my friends.""We can take Cesarine with us.""Do not insist."He was looking at her with a stupid, gloomy gaze.

"Then," he stammered, "those tears, those prayers, those oaths!""I have reflected.""It is not possible! If you spoke the truth, you would not be here.""I am here to make you understand that we must give up projectswhich cannot be realized. There are some social conventionalitieswhich cannot be torn up. As if he scarcely understood what shesaid, he repeated,"Social conventionalities!"And suddenly falling at Mme. de Thaller's feet, his head thrownback, and his hands clasped together,"You lie!" he said. "Confess that you lie, and that it is a finaltrial which you are imposing upon me. Or else have you, then,never loved me? That's impossible! I would not believe you if youwere to say so. A woman who does not love a man cannot be to himwhat you have been to me: she does not give herself up thus sojoyously and so completely. Have you, then, forgotten every thing?

Is it possible that you do not remember those divine evenings in theRue de Cirque? - those nights, the mere thought of which fires mybrain, and consumes my blood."He was horrible to look at, horrible and ridiculous at the sametime. As he wished to take Mme. de Thaller's hands, she steppedback, and he followed her, dragging himself on his knees.

"Where could you find," he continued, "a man to worship you like me,with an ardent, absolute, blind, mad passion? With what can youreproach me? Have I not sacrificed to you without a murmur everything that a man can sacrifice here below, - fortune, family, honor,- to supply your extravagance, to anticipate your slightest fancies,to give you gold to scatter by the handful. Did I not leave my ownfamily struggling with poverty. I would have snatched bread frommy children's mouths in order to purchase roses to scatter underyour footsteps. And for years did ever a word from me betray thesecret of our love? What have I not endured? You deceived me. Iknew it, and I said nothing. Upon a word from you I stepped asidebefore him whom your caprice made happy for a day. You told me,'Steal!' and I stole. You told me, 'Kill!' and I tried to kill.""Fly. A man who has twelve hundred thousand francs in gold,bank-notes, and good securities, can always get along.""And my wife and children?""Maxence is old enough to help his mother. Gilberte will find ahusband: depend upon it. Besides, what's to prevent you fromsending them money?""They would refuse it.""You will always be a fool, my dear!"To Vincent Favoral's first stupor and miserable weakness nowsucceeded a terrible passion. All the blood had left his face:

his eyes was flashing.

Then," he resumed, "all is really over?""Of course.""Then I have been duped like the rest, - like that poor Marquis deTregars, whom you had made mad also. But he, at least saved hishonor; whereas I - And I have no excuse; for I should have known.

I knew that you were but the bait which the Baron de Thaller heldout to his victims."He waited for an answer; but she maintained a contemptuous silence.

"Then you think," he said with a threatening laugh, "that it willall end that way?""What can you do?""There is such a thing as justice, I imagine, and judges too. I cangive myself up, and reveal every thing."She shrugged her shoulders.

"That would be throwing yourself into the wolf's mouth for nothing,"she said. "You know better than any one else that my precautionsare well enough taken to defy any thing you can do or say. I havenothing to fear.""Are you quite sure of that?""Trust to me," she said with a smile of perfect security.

The former cashier of the Mutual Credit made a terrible gesture; but,checking himself at once, he seized one of the baroness's hands.

She withdrew it quickly, however, and, in an accent of insurmountabledisgust,"Enough, enough!" she said.

In the adjoining closet Marius de Tregars could feel Mme. ZelieCadelle shuddering by his side.

"What a wretch that woman is!" she murmured; "and he - what a basecoward!"The former cashier remained prostrated striking the floor with hishead.

"And you would forsake me," he groaned, "when we are united by apast such as ours! How could you replace me? Where would you finda slave so devoted to your every wish?"The baroness was getting impatient.

"Stop!" she interrupted, - "stop these demonstrations as uselessas ridiculous."This time he did start up, as if lashed with a whip and, doublelocking the door which communicated with the ante-chamber, he putthe key in his pocket; and, with a step as stiff and mechanical asthat of an automaton, he disappeared in the sleeping-room.

"He is going for a weapon," whispered Mme. Cadelle.

It was also what Marius thought.

"Run down quick," he said to Mme. Zelie. "In a cab standingopposite No.25, you will find Mlle. Gilberte Favoral waiting. Lether come at once."And, rushing into the parlor,"Fly!" he said to Mme. Thaller.

But she was as petrified by this apparition.

"M. de Tregars!""Yes, yes, me. But hurry and go!"And he pushed her into the closet.

It was but time. Vincent Favoral reappeared upon the threshold ofthe bedroom. But, if it was a weapon he had gone for, it was notfor the one which Marius and Mme. Cadelle supposed. It was a bundleof papers which he held in his hand. Seeing M. de Tregars there,instead of Mme. de Thaller, an exclamation of terror and surpriserose to his lips. He understood vaguely what must have taken place;that the man who stood there must have been concealed in the glasscloset, and that he had assisted the baroness to escape.

"Ah the miserable wretch!" he stammered with a tongue made thickby passion, "the infamous wretch! She has betrayed me; she hassurrendered me. I am lost!"Mastering the most terrible emotion he had ever felt,"No, no! you shall not be surrendered," uttered M. de Tregars.

Collecting all the energy that the devouring passion which hadblasted his existence had left him, the former cashier of theMutual Credit took one or two steps forward.

"Who are you, then?" he asked.

"Do you not know me? I am the son of that unfortunate Marquis deTregars of whom you spoke a moment since. I am Lucienne's brother."Like a man who has received a stunning blow, Vincent Favoral sankheavily upon a chair.

"He knows all," he groaned.

"Yes, all!""You must hate me mortally.""I pity you."The old cashier had reached that point when all the faculties, afterbeing strained to their utmost limits, suddenly break down, whenthe strongest man gives up, and weeps like a child.

"Ah, I am the most wretched of villains!" he exclaimed.

He had hid his face in his hands; and in one second, - as it happens,they say, to the dying on the threshold of eternity, - he reviewedhis entire existence.

"And yet," he said, "I had not the soul of a villain. I wanted toget rich; but honestly, by labor, and by rigid economy. And Ishould have succeeded. I had a hundred and fifty thousand francsof my own when I met the Baron de Thaller. Alas! why did I meethim? 'Twas he who first gave me to understand that it was stupidto work and save, when, at the bourse, with moderate luck, one mightbecome a millionaire in six months."He stopped, shook his head, and suddenly,"Do you know the Baron de Thaller?" he asked. And, without givingMarius time to answer,"He is a German," he went on, "a Prussian. His father was acab-driver in Berlin, and his mother waiting-maid in a brewery. Atthe age of eighteen, he was compelled to leave his country, owingto some petty swindle, and came to take up his residence in Paris.

He found employment in the office of a stock-broker, and was livingvery poorly, when he made the acquaintance of a young laundressnamed Affrays, who had for a lover a very wealthy gentleman, theMarquis de Tregars, whose weakness was to pass himself off for apoor clerk. Affrays and Thaller were well calculated to agree.

They did agree, and formed an association, - she contributing herbeauty; he, his genius for intrigue; both, their corruption andtheir vices. Soon after they met, she gave birth to a child, adaughter; whom she intrusted to some poor gardeners at Louveciennes,with the firm and settled intention to leave her there forever.

And yet it was upon this daughter, whom they firmly hoped never tosee again, that the two accomplices were building their fortune.

"It was in the name of that daughter that Affrays wrungconsiderable sums from the Marquis de Tregars. As soon as Thallerand she found themselves in possession of six hundred thousandfrancs, they dismissed the marquis, and got married. Already, atthat time, Thaller had taken the title of baron, and lived in somestyle. But his first speculations were not successful. Therevolution of 1848 finished his ruin, and he was about being expelledfrom the bourse, when he found me on his way, - I, poor fool, whowas going about everywhere, asking how I could advantageously investmy hundred and fifty thousand francs."He was speaking in a hoarse voice, shaking his clinched fist in theair, doubtless at the Baron de Thaller.

"Unfortunately," he resumed, "it was only much later that Idiscovered all this. At the moment, M. de Thaller dazzled me. Hisfriends, Saint Pavin and the bankers Jottras, proclaimed him thesmartest and the most honest man in France. Still I would not havegiven my money, if it had not been for the baroness. The first timethat I was introduced to her, and that she fixed upon me her greatblack eyes, I felt myself moved to the deepest recesses of my soul.

In order to see her again, I invited her, together with her husbandand her husband's friends, to dine with me, by the side of my wifeand children. She came. Her husband made me sign every thing hepleased; but, as she went off, she pressed my hand."He was still shuddering at the recollection of it, the poor fellow!

"The next day," he went on, "I handed to Thaller all I had in theworld; and, in exchange, he gave me the position of cashier in theMutual Credit, which he had just founded. He treated me like aninferior, and did not admit me to visit his family. But I didn'tcare: the baroness had permitted me to see her again, and almostevery afternoon I met her at the Tuileries; and I had made bold totell her that I loved her to desperation. At last, one evening,she consented to make an appointment with me for the secondfollowing day, in an apartment which I bad rented.

"The day before I was to meet her, and whilst I was beside myselfwith joy, the Baron de Thaller requested me to assist him, bymeans of certain irregular entries, to conceal a deficit arisingfrom unsuccessful speculations. How could I refuse a man, whom,as I thought, I was about to deceive grossly! I did as he wished.

The next day Mme. de Thaller became my mistress; and I was a lostman."Was he trying to exculpate himself? Was he merely yielding to thatimperious sentiment, more powerful than the will or the reason,which impels the criminal to reveal the secret which oppresses him?

"From that day," he went on, "began for me the torment of thatdouble existence which I underwent for years. I had given to mymistress all I had in the world; and she was insatiable. Shewanted money always, any way, and in heaps. She made me buy thehouse in the Rue du Cirque for our meetings; and, between thedemands of the husband and those of the wife, I was almost insane.

I drew from the funds of the Mutual Credit as from an inexhaustiblemine; and, as I foresaw that some day must come when all would bediscovered, I always carried about me a loaded revolver, withwhich to blow out my brains when they came to arrest me."And he showed to Marius the handle of a revolverprotruding from his pocket.

"And if only she had been faithful to me!" he continued, becomingmore and more animated. "But what have I not endured! When theMarquis de Tregars returned to Paris, and they set about defraudinghim of his fortune, she did not hesitate a moment to become hismistress again. She used to tell me, 'What a fool you are! allI want is his money. I love no one but you.' But after his deathshe took others. She made use of our house in the Rue du Cirquefor purposes of dissipation for herself and her daughter Cesarine.

And I - miserable coward that I was! - I suffered all, so muchdid I tremble to lose her, so much did I fear to be weaned fromthe semblance of love with which she paid my fearful sacrifices.

And now she would betray me, forsake me! For every thing that hastaken place was suggested by her in order to procure a sum wherewithto fly to America. It was she who imagined the wretched comedywhich I played, so as to throw upon myself the whole responsibility.

M. de Thaller has had millions for his share: I have only had twelvehundred thousand francs."Violent nervous shudders shook his frame: his face became purple.

He drew himself up, and, brandishing the letters which he held inhis hand,"But all is not over!" he exclaimed. "There are proofs whichneither the baron nor his wife know that I have. I have the proofof the infamous swindle of which the Marquis de Tregars was thevictim. I have the proof of the farce got up by M. de Thaller andmyself to defraud the stockholders of the Mutual Credit!

"What do you hope for?"He was laughing a stupid laugh.

"I? I shall go and hide myself in some suburb of Paris, and writeto Affrays to come. She knows that I have twelve hundred thousandfrancs. She will come; and she will keep coming as long as I haveany money. And when I have no more:

He stopped short, starting back, his arms outstretched as if torepel a terrifying apparition. Mlle. Gilberte had just appearedat the door.

"My daughter!" stammered the wretch. "Gilberte!""The Marquise de Tregars," uttered Marius.

An inexpressible look of terror and anguish convulsed the featuresof Vincent Favoral: he guessed that it was the end.

"What do you want with me?" he stammered.

"The money that you have stolen, father," replied the girl in aninexorable tone of voice,-" the twelve hundred thousand francs whichyou have here, then the proofs which are in your hands, and, finallyyour weapons."He was trembling from head to foot.

"Take away my money!" he said. "Why, that would be compelling meto give myself up! Do you wish to see me in prison?""The disgrace would fall back upon your children, sir," said M. deTregars. "We shall, on the contrary, do every thing in the worldto enable you to evade the pursuit of the police.""Well, yes, then. But to-morrow I must write to Affrays: I mustsee her!""You have lost your mind, father," said Mlle. Gilberte. "Come, doas I ask you."He drew himself up to his full height.

"And suppose I refuse?"But it was the last effort of his will. He yielded, though notwithout an agonizing struggle and gave up to his daughter themoney, the proofs and the arms. And as she was walking away,leaning on M. de Tregars' arm,"But send me your mother, at least," he begged. "She willunderstand me: she will not be without pity. She is my wife: lether come quick. I will not, I can not remain alone."
Chapter XII
It was with convulsive haste that the Baroness de Thaller went overthe distance that separated the Rue St. Lazare from the Rue de laPepiniere. The sudden intervention of M. de Tregars had upset allher ideas. The most sinister presentiments agitated her mind. Inthe courtyard of her residence, all the servants, gathered in agroup, were talking. They did not take the trouble to stand asideto let her pass; and she even noticed some smiles and ironicalgigglings. This was a terrible blow to her. What was the matter?

What had they heard? In the magnificent vestibule, a man wassitting as she came in. It was the same suspicious character thatMarius de Tregars had seen in the grand parlor, in close conferencewith the baroness.

"Bad news." he said with a sheepish look.

"What?""That little Lucienne must have her soul riveted to her body. Sheis only wounded; and she'll get over it.""Never mind Lucienne. What about M. de Tregars?""Oh! he is another sharp one. Instead of taking up our man'sprovocation, he collared him, and took away from him the note Ihad sent him."Mme. de Thaller started violently..

"What is the meaning, then," she asked, "of your letter of lastnight, in which you requested me to hand two thousand francs tothe bearer?"The man became pale as death.

"You received a letter from me," he stammered, "last night?""Yes, from you; and I gave the money."The man struck his forehead.

"I understand it all!" he exclaimed.

"What?""They wanted proofs. They imitated my handwriting, and you swallowedthe bait. That's the reason why I spent the night in thestation-house; and, if they let me go this morning, it was to findout where I'd go. I have been followed, they are shadowing me. Weare gone up, Mme. le Baronne. Sauve qui peut!"And he ran out.

More agitated than ever Mme. de Thaller went up stairs. In thelittle red-and-gold parlor, the Baron de Thaller and Mlle. Cesarinewere waiting for her. Stretched upon an arm-chair, her legs crossed,the tip of her boot on a level with her eye, Mlle. Cesarine, witha look of ironical curiosity, was watching her father, who, lividand trembling with nervous excitement, was walking up and down, likea wild beast in his cage. As soon as the baroness appeared,"Things are going badly," said her husband, "very badly. Our gameis devilishly compromised.""You think so?""I am but too sure of it. Such a well-combined stroke too! Butevery thing is against us. In presence of the examining magistrate,Jottras held out well; but Saint Pavin spoke. That dirty rascalwas not satisfied with the share allotted to him. On theinformation furnished by him, Costeclar was arrested this morning.

And Costeclar knows all, since he has been your confidant, VincentFavoral's, and my own. When a man has, like him, two or threeforgeries in his record, he is sure to speak. He will speak.

Perhaps he has already done so, since the police has takenpossession of Latterman's office, with whom I had organized thepanic and the tumble in the Mutual Credit stock. What can we doto ward off this blow?"With a surer glance than her husband, Mme. de Thaller had measuredthe situation.

"Do not try to ward it off," she replied: "It would be useless.""Because?""Because M. de Tregars has found Vincent Favoral; because, at thisvery moment, they are together, arranging their plans."The baron made a terrible gesture.

"Ab, thunder and lightning!" he exclaimed. "I always told you thatthis stupid fool, Favoral, would cause our ruin. It was so easyfor you to find an occasion for him to blow his brains out.""Was it so difficult for you to accept, M. de Tregars' offers?""It was you who made me refuse.""Was it me, too, who was so anxious to get rid of Lucienne?"For years, Mlle. Cesarine had not seemed so amused; and, in a halfwhisper, she was humming the famous tune, from "The Pearl ofPoutoise,""Happy accord! Happy couple!"M. de Thaller, beside himself, was advancing to seize the baroness:

she was drawing back, knowing him, perhaps to be capable of anything, when suddenly there was a violent knocking at the door.

"In the name of the law!"It was a commissary of police.

And, whilst surrounded by agents, they were taken to a cab.

"Orphan on both sides!" exclaimed Mlle. Cesarine, "I am free, then.

Now we'll have some fun!"At that very moment, M. de Tregars and Mlle. Gilberte reached theRue St. Giles.

Hearing that her husband had been found,"I must see him!" exclaimed Mme. Favoral.

And, in spite of any thing they could tell her, she threw a shawlover her shoulders, and started with Mlle. Gilberte.

When they had entered Mme. Zelie's apartment, of which they had akey, they found in the parlor, with his back towards them, VincentFavoral sitting at the table, leaning forward, and apparentlywriting. Mme. Favoral approached on tiptoe, and over her husband'sshoulder she read what he had just written,"Affrays, my beloved, eternally-adored mistress, will you forgiveme? The money that I was keeping for you, my darling, the proofswhich will crush your husband - they have taken every thing from me,basely, by force. And it is my daughter - "He had stopped there. Surprised at his immobility, Mme. Favoralcalled,"Vincent!"He made no answer. She pushed him with her finger. He rolled tothe ground. He was dead.

Three months later the great Mutual Credit suit was tried beforethe Sixth Court. The scandal was great; but public curiosity wasstrangely disappointed. As in most of these financial affairs,justice, whilst exposing the most audacious frauds, was not ableto unravel the true secret.

She managed, at least, to lay hands upon every thing that theBaron de Thaller had hoped to save. That worthy was condemned tofive years' prison; M. Costeclar got off with three years; and M.

Jottras with two. M. Saint Pavin was acquitted.

Arrested for subornation of murder, the former Marquise de Javellethe Baroness de Thaller, was released for want of proper proof. But,implicated in the suit against her husband, she lost three-fourthsof her fortune, and is now living with her daughter, whose debut isannounced at the Bouffes-Parisiens, or at the Delassements-Comiques.

Already, before that time, Mlle. Lucienne, completely restored, hadmarried Maxence Favoral.

Of the five hundred thousand francs which were returned to her, sheapplied three hundred thousand to discharge the debts of herfather-in-law, and with the rest she induced her husband to emigrateto America. Paris had become odious to both.

Marius and Mlle. Gilberte, who has now become Marquise de Tregars,have taken up their residence at the Chateau de Tregars, threeleagues from Quimper. They have been followed in their retreat byMme. Favoral and by General Count de Vil1egre.

The greater portion of his father's fortune, Marius had applied topay off all the personal creditors of the former cashier of theMutual Credit, all the trades-people, and also M. Chapelain, oldman Desormeaux, and M. and Mme. Desclavettes.

All that is left to the Marquis and Marquise de Tregars is sometwenty thousand francs a year, and if they ever lose them, it willnot be at the bourse.

The Mutual Credit is quoted at 467.25!
Chapter XIII
Mme. Favoral spoke from experience. She had learned, to her cost,that the whistle of her husband, more surely than the shriek of thestormy petrel, announces the storm. - And she had that evening morereasons than usual to fear. Breaking from all his habits, M. Favoralhad not come home to dinner, and had sent one of the clerks of theMutual Credit Society to say that they should not wait for him.

Soon his latch-key grated in the lock; the door swung open; he camein; and, seeing his son:

"Well, I am glad to find you here," he exclaimed with a giggle, whichwith him was the utmost expression of anger.

Mme. Favoral shuddered. Still under the impression of the scenewhich had just taken place, his heart heavy, and his eyes full oftears, Maxence did not answer.

"It is doubtless a wager," resumed the father, "and you wish to knowhow far my patience may go.

"I do not understand you," stammered the young man.

"The money that you used to get, I know not where, doubtless failsyou now, or at least is no longer sufficient, and you go on makingdebts right and left - at the tailor's, the shirt maker's, thejeweler's. Of course, it's simple enough. We earn nothing; butwe wish to dress in the latest style, to wear a gold chain acrossour vest, and then we make dupes.""I have never made any dupes, father.""Bah! And what, then, do you call all these people who came thisvery day to present me their bills? For they did dare to come tomy office! They had agreed to come together, expecting thus tointimidate me more easily. I told them that you were of age, andthat your business was none of mine. Hearing this, they becameinsolent, and commenced speaking so loud, that their voices couldbe heard in the adjoining rooms. At that very moment, the manager,M. de Thaller, happened to be passing through the hall. Hearingthe noise of a discussion, he thought that I was having somedifficulty with some of our stockholders, and he came in, as hehad a right to. Then I was compelled to confess everything."He became excited at the sound of his words, like a horse at thejingle of his bells. And, more and more beside himself:

"That is just what your creditors wished," he pursued. "Theythought I would be afraid of a row, and that I would 'come down.'

It is a system of blackmailing, like any other. An account isopened to some young rascal; and, when the amount is reasonablylarge, they take it to the family, saying, 'Money, or I make row.'

Do you think it is to you, who are penniless, that they give credit?

It's on my pocket that they were drawing, - on my pocket, becausethey believed me rich. They sold you at exorbitant prices everything they wished; and they relied on me to pay for trousers atninety francs, shirts at forty francs, and watches at six hundredfrancs."Contrary to his habit, Maxence did not offer any denial.

"I expect to pay all I owe," he said.

"You!""I give my word I will!""And with what, pray?""With my salary.""You have a salary, then?"Maxence blushed.

"I have what I earn at my employer's.""What employer?""The architect in whose office M. Chapelain helped me to find aplace."With a threatening gesture, M. Favoral interrupted him.

"Spare me your lies," he uttered. "I am better posted than yousuppose. I know, that, over a month ago, your employer, tired ofyour idleness, dismissed you in disgrace."Disgrace was superfluous. The fact was, that Maxence, returningto work after an absence of five days, had found another in hisplace.

"I shall find another place," he said.

M. Favoral shrugged his shoulders with a movement of rage.

"And in the mean time," he said, "I shall have to pay. Do you knowwhat your creditors threaten to do? - to commence a suit against me.

They would lose it, of course, they know it; but they hope that Iwould yield before a scandal. And this is not all: they talk ofentering a criminal complaint. They pretend that you haveaudaciously swindled them; that the articles you purchased of themwere not at all for your own use, but that you sold them as fast asyou got them, at any price you could obtain, to raise ready money.

The jeweler has proofs, he says, that you went straight from hisshop to the pawnbroker's, and pledged a watch and chain which hehad just sold you. It is a police matter. They said all that inpresence of my superior officer - in presence of M. de Thaller. Ihad to get the janitor to put them out. But, after they had left,M. de Thaller gave me to understand that he wished me very much tosettle everything. And he is right. My consideration could notresist another such scene. What confidence can be placed in acashier whose son behaves in this manner? How can a key of a safecontaining millions be left with a man whose son would have beendragged into the police-courts? In a word, I am at your mercy.

In a word, my honor, my position, my fortune, rest upon you. Asoften as it may please you to make debts, you can make them, andI shall be compelled to pay."Gathering all his courage:

"You have been sometimes very harsh with me, father," commencedMaxence; "and yet I will not try to justify my conduct. I swear toyou, that hereafter you shall have nothing to fear from me.""I fear nothing," uttered M. Favoral with a sinister smile. "Iknow the means of placing myself beyond the reach of your follies- and I shall use them.""I assure you, father, that I have taken a firm resolution.""Oh! you may dispense with your periodical repentance."Mlle. Gilberte stepped forward.

"I'll stand warrant," she said, "for Maxence's resolutions."Her father did not permit her to proceed.

"Enough," he interrupted somewhat harshly. "Mind your own business,Gilberte! I have to speak to you too.""To me, father.""Yes."He walked up and down three or four times through the parlor, as ifto calm his irritation. Then planting himself straight before hisdaughter, his arms folded across his breast:

"You are eighteen years of age," he said; "that is to say, it istime to think of your marriage. An excellent match offers itself."She shuddered, stepped back, and, redder than a peony:

"A match!" she repeated in a tone of immense surprise.

"Yes, and which suits me.""But I do not wish to marry, father.""All young girls say the same thing; and, as soon as a pretenderoffers himself, they are delighted. Mine is a fellow of twenty-six,quite good looking, amiable, witty, and who has had the greatestsuccess in society.""Father, I assure you that I do not wish to leave mother.""Of course not. He is an intelligent, hard-working man, destined,everybody says, to make an immense fortune. Although he is richalready, for he holds a controlling interest in a stock-broker'sfirm, he works as hard as any poor devil. I would not be surprisedto hear that he makes half a million of francs a year. His wifewill have her carriage, her box at the opera, diamonds, and dressesas handsome as Mlle. de Thaller's.""Eh! What do I care for such things?""It's understood. I'll present him to you on Saturday."But Mlle. Gilberte was not one of those young girls who allowthemselves, through weakness or timidity, to become engaged, and sofar engaged, that later, they can no longer withdraw. A discussionbeing unavoidable, she preferred to have it out at once.

"A presentation is absolutely useless, father," she declaredresolutely.

"Because?""I have told you that I did not wish to marry.""But if it is my will?""I am ready to obey you in every thing except that.""In that as in every thing else," interrupted the cashier of theMutual Credit in a thundering voice.

And, casting upon his wife and children a glance full of defianceand threats:

"In that, as in every thing else," he repeated, "because I am themaster; and I shall prove it. Yes, I will prove it; for I am tiredto see my family leagued against my authority."And out he went, slamming the door so violently, that the partitionsshook.

"You are wrong to resist your father thus," murmured the weak Mme.

Favoral.

The fact is, that the poor woman could not understand why herdaughter refused the only means at her command to break off withher miserable existence.

"Let him present you this young man," she said. "You might likehim."" I am sure I shall not like him."She said this in such a tone, that the light suddenly flashed uponMme. Favoral's mind.

"Heavens!" she murmured. "Gilberte, my darling child, have you thena secret which your mother does not know?"
Chapter XIV
Yes, Mlle. Gilberte had her secret - a very simple one, though,chaste, like herself, and one of those which, as the old women say,must cause the angels to rejoice.

The spring of that year having been unusually mild, Mlle. Favoraland her daughter had taken the habit of going daily to breathe thefresh air in the Place Royale. They took their work with them,crotchet or knitting; so that this salutary exercise did not in anyway diminish the earnings of the week. It was during these walksthat Mlle. Gilberte had at last noticed a young man, unknown to her,whom she met every day at the same place.

Tall and robust, he had a grand look, notwithstanding his modestclothes, the exquisite neatness of which betrayed a sort ofrespectable poverty. He wore his full beard; and his proud andintelligent features were lighted up by a pair of large black eyes,of those eyes whose straight and clear look disconcerts hypocritesand knaves.

He never failed, as he passed by Mlle. Gilberte, to look down, orturn his head slightly away; and in spite of this, in spite of theexpression of respect which she had detected upon his face, shecould not help blushing.

"Which is absurd," she thought; "for after all, what on earth do Icare for that young man?"The infallible instinct, which is the experience of inexperiencedyoung girls, told her that it was not chance alone that broughtthis stranger in her way. But she wished to make sure of it. Shemanaged so well, that each day of the following week, the hour oftheir walk was changed. Sometimes they went out at noon, sometimesafter four o'clock.

But, whatever the hour, Mlle. Gilberte, as she turned the corner ofthe Rue des Minimes, noticed her unknown admirer under the arcades,looking in some shop-window, and watching out of the corner of hiseye. As soon as she appeared, he left his post, and hurried fastenough to meet her at the gate of the Place.

"It is a persecution," thought Mlle. Gilberte.

How, then, had she not spoken of it to her mother? Why had she notsaid any thing to her the day, when, happening, to look out of thewindow, she saw her "persecutor" passing before the house, or,evidently looking in her direction?

"Am I losing my mind?" she thought, seriously irritated againstherself. "I will not think of him any more."And yet she was thinking of him, when one afternoon, as her motherand herself were working, sitting upon a bench, she saw the strangercome and sit down not far from them. He was accompanied by anelderly man with long white mustaches, and wearing the rosetteof the Legion of Honor.

"This is an insolence," thought the young girl, whilst seeking apretext to ask her mother to change their seats.

But already had the young man and his elderly friend seatedthemselves, and so arranged their chairs, that Mlle. Gilberte couldnot miss a word of what they were about to say. It was the youngman who spoke first.

"You know me as well as I know myself, my dear count," he commenced- "you who were my poor father's best friend, you who dandled meupon your knees when I was a child, and who has never lost sight ofme.""Which is to say, my boy, that I answer for you as for myself," putin the old man. "But go on.""I am twenty-six years old. My name is Yves-Marius-Genost de Tregars.

My family, which is one of the oldest of Brittany, is allied to allthe great families.""Perfectly exact," remarked the old gentleman.

"Unfortunately, my fortune is not on a par with my nobility. Whenmy mother died, in 1856, my father, who worshiped her, could nolonger bear, in the intensity of his grief, to remain at the Chateaude Tregars where he had spent his whole life. He came to Paris,which he could well afford, since we were rich then, butunfortunately, made acquaintances who soon inoculated him with thefever of the age. They proved to him that he was mad to keep landswhich barely yielded him forty thousand francs a year, and which hecould easily sell for two millions; which amount, invested merelyat five per cent, would yield him an income of one hundred thousandfrancs. He therefore sold every thing, except our patrimonialhomestead on the road from Quimper to Audierne, and rushed intospeculations. He was rather lucky at first. But he was too honestand too loyal to be lucky long. An operation in which he becameinterested early in 1869 turned out badly. His associates becamerich; but he, I know not how, was ruined, and came near beingcompromised. He died of grief a month later."The old soldier was nodding his assent.

"Very well, my boy," he said. "But you are too modest; and there'sa circumstance which you neglect. You had a right, when your fatherbecame involved in these troubles, to claim and retain your mother'sfortune; that is, some thirty thousand francs a year. Not only youdid not do so; but you gave up every thing to his creditors. Yousold the domain of Tregars, except the old castle and its park, andpaid over the proceeds to them; so that, if your father did dieruined, at least he did not owe a cent. And yet you knew, as wellas myself, that your father had been deceived and swindled by a lotof scoundrels who drive their carriages now, and who, perhaps, ifthe courts were applied to, might still be made to disgorge theirill-gotten plunder."Her head bent upon her tapestry, Mlle. Gilberte seemed to be workingwith incomparable zeal. The truth is, she knew not how to concealthe blushes on her cheeks, and the trembling of her hands. She hadsomething like a cloud before her eyes; and she drove her needle atrandom. She scarcely preserved enough presence of mind to reply toMme. Favoral, who, not noticing any thing, spoke to her from time totime.

Indeed, the meaning of this scene was too clear to escape her.

"They have had an understanding," she thought, "and it is for mealone that they are speaking."Meantime, Marius de Tregars was going on:

"I should lie, my old friend, were I to say that I was indifferentto our ruin. Philosopher though one may be, it is not without somepangs that one passes from a sumptuous hotel to a gloomy garret.

But what grieved me most of all was that I saw myself compelledto give up the labors which had been the joy of my life, and uponwhich I had founded the most magnificent hopes. A positive vocation,stimulated further by the accidents of my education, had led me tothe study of physical sciences. For several years, I had applied allI have of intelligence and energy to certain investigations inelectricity. To convert electricity into an incomparablemotive-power which would supersede steam, - such was the object Ipursued without pause. Already, as you know, although quite young,I had obtained results which had attracted some attention in thescientific world. I thought I could see the last of a problem, thesolution of which would change the face of the globe. Ruin was thedeath of my hopes, the total loss of the fruits of my labors; formy experiments were costly, and it required money, much money, topurchase the products which were indispensable to me, and toconstruct the machines which I contrived.

"And I was about being compelled to earn my daily bread.

"I was on the verge of despair, when I met a man whom I had formerlyseen at my father's, and who had seemed to take some interest in myresearches, a speculator named Marcolet. But it is not at the boursethat he operates. Industry is the field of his labors. Ever on thelookout for those obstinate inventors who are starving to death intheir garrets, he appears to them at the hour of supreme crisis: hepities them, encourages them, consoles them, helps them, and almostalways succeeds in becoming the owner of their discovery. Sometimeshe makes a mistake; and then all he has to do is to put a fewthousand francs to the debit of profit or loss. But, if he hasjudged right, then he counts his profits by hundreds of thousands;and how many patents does he work thus! Of how many inventions doeshe reap the results which are a fortune, and the inventors ofwhich have no shoes to wear! Every thing is good to him; and hedefends with the same avidity a cough - sirup, the formula ofwhich he has purchased of some poor devil of a druggist, and animprovement to the steam-engine, the patent for which has been soldto him by an engineer of genius. And yet Marcolet is not a bad man.

Seeing my situation, he offered me a certain yearly sum to undertakesome studies of industrial chemistry which he indicated to me. Iaccepted; and the very next day I hired a small basement in the Ruedes Tournelles, where I set up my laboratory, and went to work atonce. That was a year ago. Marcolet must be satisfied. I havealready found for him a new shade for dyeing silk, the cost priceof which is almost nothing. As to me, I have lived with thestrictest economy, devoting all my surplus earnings to theprosecution of the problem, the solution of which would give meboth glory and fortune."Palpitating with inexpressible emotion, Mlle. Gilberte was listeningto this young man, unknown to her a few moments since, and whosewhole history she now knew as well as if she had always lived nearhim; for it never occurred to her to suspect his sincerity.

No voice had ever vibrated to her ear like this voice, whose gravesonorousness stirred within her strange sensations, and legions ofthoughts which she had never suspected. She was surprised at theaccent of simplicity with which he spoke of the illustriousness ofhis family, of his past opulence, of his obscure labors, and of hisexalted hopes.

She admired the superb disregard for money which beamed forth in hisevery word. Here was then one man, at least, who despised thatmoney before which she had hitherto seen all the people she knewprostrated in abject worship.

After a pause of a few moments, Marius de Tregars, still addressinghimself apparently to his aged companion, went on:

"I repeat it, because it is the truth, my old friend, this life oflabor and privation, so new to me, was not a burden. Calm, silence,the constant exercise of all the faculties of the intellect, havecharms which the vulgar can never suspect. I was happy to think,that, if I was ruined, it was through an act of my own will. I founda positive pleasure in the fact that I, the Marquis de Tregars, whohad had a hundred thousand a year - I must the next moment go out inperson to the baker's and the green-grocer's to purchase my suppliesfor the day. I was proud to think that it was to my labor alone, tothe work for which I was paid by Marcolet, that I owed the means ofprosecuting my task. And, from the summits where I was carried onthe wings of science, I took pity on your modern existence, on thatridiculous 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.

"Sometimes, however, like a fire that has been smouldering underthe ashes, the flame of youthful passions blazed up within me. Ihad hours of madness, of discouragement, of distress, during whichsolitude was loathsome to me. But I had the faith which raisesmountains - faith in myself and my work. And soon, tranquilized, Iwould go to sleep in the purple of hope, beholding in the vista ofthe distant future the triumphal arches erected to my success.

"Such was my situation, when, one afternoon in the month of Februarylast, after an experiment upon which I had founded great hopes, andwhich had just miserably failed, I came here to breathe a littlefresh air.

"It was a beautiful spring day, warm and sunny. The sparrows werechirping on the branches, swelled with sap: bands of children wererunning along the alleys, filling the air with their joyous screams.

"I was sitting upon a bench, ruminating over the causes of my failure,when two ladies passed by me; one somewhat aged, the other quiteyoung. They were walking so rapidly, that I hardly had time tosee them.

"But the young lady's step, the noble simplicity of her carriage,had struck me so much, that I rose to follow her with the intentionof passing her, and then walking back to have a good view of herface. I did so; and I was fairly dazzled. At the moment when myeyes met hers, a voice rose within me, crying that it was all overnow, and that my destiny was fixed.""I remember, my dear boy," remarked the old soldier in a tone offriendly raillery; "for you came to see me that night, and I hadnot seen you for months before."Marius proceeded without heeding the remark.

"And yet you know that I am not the man to yield to first impression.

I struggled: with determined energy I strove to drive off thatradiant image which I carried within my soul, which left me no more,which haunted me in the midst of my studies.

"Vain efforts. My thoughts obeyed me no longer - my will escapedmy control. It was indeed one of those passions that fill the wholebeing, overpower all, and which make of life an ineffable felicityor a nameless torture, according that they are reciprocated, or not.

How many days I spent there, waiting and watching for her of whom Ihad thus had a glimpse, and who ignored my very existence! And whatinsane palpitations, when, after hours of consuming anxiety, I sawat the corner of the street the undulating folds of her dress! Isaw her thus often, and always with the same elderly person, hermother. They had adopted in this square a particular bench, wherethey sat daily, working at their sewing with an assiduity and zealwhich made me think that they lived upon the product of their labor."Here he was suddenly interrupted by his companion. The old gentlemanfeared that Mme. Favoral's attention might at last be attracted bytoo direct allusions.

"Take care, boy!" he whispered, not so low, however, but whatGilberte overheard him.

But it would have required much more than this to draw Mme. Favoralfrom her sad thoughts. She had just finished her band of tapestry;and, grieving to lose a moment:

"It is perhaps time to go home," she said to her daughter. "I havenothing more to do."Mlle. Gilberte drew from her basket a piece of canvas, and, handingit to her mother:

Here is enough to go on with, mamma," she said in a troubled voice.

"Let us stay a little while longer."And, Mme. Favoral having resumed her work, Marius proceeded:

"The thought that she whom I loved was poor delighted me. Was notthis similarity of positions a link between us? I felt a childishjoy to think that I would work for her and for her mother, and thatthey would be indebted to me for their ease and comfort in life.

"But I am not one of those dreamers who confide their destiny to thewings of a chimera. Before undertaking any thing, I resolved toinform myself. Alas! at the first words that I heard, all my finedreams took wings. I heard that she was rich, very rich. I wastold that her father was one of those men whose rigid probitysurrounds itself with austere and harsh forms. He owed his fortune,I was assured, to his sole labor, but also to prodigies of economyand the most severe privations. He professed a worship, they said,for that gold that had cost him so much; and he would never give thehand of his daughter to a man who had no money. This last commentwas useless. Above my actions, my thoughts, my hopes, higher thanall, soars my pride. Instantly I saw an abyss opening between meand her whom I love more than my life, but less than my dignity.

When a man's name is Genost de Tregars, he must support his wife,were it by breaking stones. And the thought that I owed my fortuneto the woman I married would make me execrate her.

"You must remember, my old friend, that I told you all this at thetime. You thought, too, that it was singularly impertinent, on mypart, thus to flare up in advance, because, certainly a millionairedoes not give his daughter to a ruined nobleman in the pay ofMarcolet, the patent-broker, to a poor devil of an inventor, who isbuilding the castles of his future upon the solution of a problemwhich has been given up by the most brilliant minds.

"It was then that I determined upon an extreme resolution, afoolish one, no doubt, and yet to which you, the Count de Villegre,my father's old friend, you have consented to lend yourself.

"I thought that I would address myself to her, to her alone, andthat she would at least know what great, what immense love she hadinspired. I thought I would go to her and tell her, 'This is whoI am, and what I am. For mercy's sake, grant me a respite of threeyears. To a love such as mine there is nothing impossible. Inthree years I shall be dead, or rich enough to ask your hand. Fromthis day forth, I give up my task for work of more immediate profit.

The arts of industry have treasures for successful inventors. Ifyou could only read in my soul, you would not refuse me the delay Iam asking. Forgive me! One word, for mercy's sake, only one! Itis my sentence that I am awaiting.'"Mlle. Gilberte's thoughts were in too great a state of confusionto permit her to think of being offended at this extraordinaryproceeding. She rose, quivering, and addressing herself to Mme.

Favoral:

"Come, mother," she said, "come: I feel that I have taken cold.

I must go home and think. To-morrow, yes, to-morrow, we will comeagain.

Deep as Mme. Favoral was plunged in her meditations, and a thousandmiles as she was from the actual situation, it was impossible thatshe should not notice the intense excitement under which her daughterlabored, the alteration of her features, and the incoherence of herwords.

"What is the matter?" she asked, somewhat alarmed. "What are yousaying?""I feel unwell," answered her daughter in a scarcely audible voice,"quite unwell. Come, let us go home."As soon as they reached home, Mlle. Gilberte took refuge in her ownroom. She was in haste to be alone, to recover her self-possession,to collect her thoughts, more scattered than dry leaves by a stormwind.

It was a momentous event which had just suddenly fallen in her lifeso monotonous and so calm - an inconceivable, startling event, theconsequences of which were to weigh heavily upon her entire future.

Staggering still, she was asking herself if she was not the victimof an hallucination, and if really there was a man who had dared toconceive and execute the audacious project of coming thus under theeyes of her mother, of declaring his love, and of asking her inreturn a solemn engagement. But what stupefied her more still, whatconfused her, was that she had actually endured such an attempt.

Under what despotic influence had she, then, fallen? To whatundefinable sentiments had she obeyed? And if she had onlytolerated! But she had done more: she had actually encouraged.

By detaining her mother when she wished to go home (and she haddetained her), had she not said to this unknown? - "Go on, I allowit: I am listening."And he had gone on. And she, at the moment of returning home, shehad engaged herself formally to reflect, and to return the next dayat a stated hour to give an answer. In a word, she had made anappointment with him.

It was enough to make her die of shame. And, as if she had neededthe sound of her own words to convince herself of the reality of thefact, she kept repeating loud,"I have made an appointment - I, Gilberte, with a man whom my parentsdo not know, and of whose name I was still ignorant yesterday."And yet she could not take upon herself to be indignant at theimprudent boldness of her conduct. The bitterness of the reproacheswhich she was addressing to herself was not sincere. She felt it sowell, that at last:

"Such hypocrisy is unworthy of me." she exclaimed, "since now,still, and without the excuse of being taken by surprise, I wouldnot act otherwise."The fact is, the more she pondered, the less she could succeed indiscovering even the shadow of any offensive intention in all thatMarius de Tregars had said. By the choice of his confidant, an oldman, a friend of his family, a man of the highest respectability,he had done all in his power to make his step excusable. It wasimpossible to doubt his sincerity, to suspect the fairness ofhis intentions.

Mlle. Gilberte, better than, almost any other young girl, couldunderstand the extreme measure resorted to by M. de Tregars. By herown pride she could understand his. No more than he, in his place,would she have been willing to expose herself to a certain refusal.

What was there, then, so extraordinary in the fact of his comingdirectly to her, in his exposing to her frankly and loyally hissituation, his projects, and his hopes?

"Good heavens!" she thought, horrified at the sentiments which shediscovered in the deep recesses of her soul, "good heavens! Ihardly know myself any more. Here I am actually approving what hehas done!"Well, yes, she did approve him, attracted, fascinated, by the verystrangeness of the situation. Nothing seemed to her more admirablethan the conduct of Marius de Tregars sacrificing his fortune andhis most legitimate aspirations to the honor of his name, andcondemning himself to work for his living.

"That one," she thought, "is a man; and his wife will have justcause to be proud of him."Involuntarily she compared him to the only men she knew: to M.

Favoral, whose miserly parsimony had made his whole family wretched;to Maxence, who did not blush to feed his disorders with the fruitsof his mother's and his sister's labor.

How different was Marius! If he was poor, it was of his own will.

Had she not seen what confidence he had in himself. She shared itfully. She felt certain, that, within the required delay, he wouldconquer that indispensable fortune. Then he might present himselfboldly. He would take her, away from the miserable surroundingsamong which she seemed fated to live: she would become theMarchioness de Tregars.

"Why, then, not answer, Yes!" thought she, with the harrowingemotions of the gambler who is about to stake his all upon one card.

And what a game for Mlle. Gilberte, and what a stake!

Suppose she had been mistaken. Suppose that Marius should be oneof those villains who make of seduction a science. Would she stillbe her own mistress, after answering? Did she know to what hazardssuch an engagement would expose her? Was she not about rushingblindfolded towards those deceiving perils where a young girlleaves her reputation, even when she saves her honor?

She thought, for a moment, of consulting her mother. But she knewMme. Favoral's shrinking timidity, and that she was as incapableof giving any advice as to make her will prevail. She would befrightened; she would approve all; and, at the first alarm, shewould confess all.

"Am I, then, so weak and so foolish," she thought, "that I cannottake a determination which affects me personally.

She could not close her eyes all night; but in the morning herresolution was settled.

And toward one o'clock:

"Are we not going out mother?" she said.

Mme. Favoral was hesitating.

"These early spring days are treacherous," she objected: "youcaught cold yesterday.""My dress was too thin. To-day I have taken my precautions."They started, taking their work with them, and came to occupy theiraccustomed seats.

Before they had even passed the gates, Mlle. Gilberte had recognizedMarius de Tregars and the Count de Villegre, walking in one of theside alleys. Soon, as on the day before, they took two chairs, andsettled themselves within hearing.

Never had the young girl's heart beat with such violence. It iseasy enough to take a resolution; but it is not always quite so easyto execute it, and she was asking herself if she would have strengthenough to articulate a word. At last, gathering her whole courage:

"You don't believe in dreams, do you mother?" she asked.

Upon this subject, as well as upon many others, Mme. Favoral had noparticular opinion.

"Why do you ask the question?" said she.

"Because I have had such a strange one.""Oh!""It seemed to me that suddenly a young man, whom I did not know,stood before me. He would have been most happy, said he to me, toask my hand, but he dared not, being very poor. And he begged meto wait three years, during which he would make his fortune."Mme. Favoral smiled.

"Why it's quite a romance," said she.

"But it wasn't a romance in my dream," interrupted Mlle. Gilberte.

"This young man spoke in a tone of such profound conviction, thatit was impossible for me, as it were, to doubt him. I thought tomyself that he would be incapable of such an odious villainy as toabuse the confiding credulity of a poor girl.""And what did you answer him?"Moving her seat almost imperceptibly, Mlle. Gilberte could, fromthe corner of her eye, have a glimpse of M. de Tregars. Evidentlyhe was not missing a single one of the words which she was addressingto her mother. He was whiter than a sheet; and his face betrayed themost intense anxiety.

This gave her the energy to curb the last revolts of her conscience.

"To answer was painful," she uttered; "and yet I - dared to answerhim. I said to him, 'I believe you, and I have faith in you.

Loyally and faithfully I shall await your success; but until thenwe must be strangers to one another. To resort to ruse, deceit,and falsehood would be unworthy of us. You surely would not exposeto a suspicion her who is to be your wife.'""Very well," approved Mme. Favoral; "only I did not know you wereso romantic."She was laughing, the good lady, but not loud enough to preventGilberte from hearing M. de Tregar's answer.

"Count de Villegre," said he, "my old friend, receive the oath whichI take to devote my life to her who has not doubted me. It is to-daythe 4th of May, 1870 - on the 4th of May, 1873, I shall havesucceeded: I feel it, I will it, it must be!"
Chapter XV
It was done: Gilberte Favoral had just irrevocably disposed ofherself. Prosperous or wretched, her destiny henceforth was linkedwith another. She had set the wheel in motion; and she could nolonger hope to control its direction, any more than the will canpretend to alter the course of the ivory ball upon the surface ofthe roulette-table. At the outset of this great storm of passionwhich had suddenly surrounded her, she felt an immense surprise,mingled with unexplained apprehensions and vague terrors.

Around her, apparently, nothing was changed. Father, mother,brother, friends, gravitated mechanically in their accustomed orbits.

The same daily facts repeated themselves monotonous and regular asthe tick-tack of the clock.

And yet an event had occurred more prodigious for her than the movingof a mountain.

Often during the weeks that followed, she would repeat to herself,"Is it true, is it possible even?"Or else she would run to a mirror to make sure once more that nothingupon her face or in her eyes betrayed the secret that palpitatedwithin her.

The singularity of the situation was, moreover, well calculated totrouble and confound her mind.

Mastered by circumstances, she had in utter disregard of all acceptedideas, and of the commonest propriety, listened to the passionatepromises of a stranger, and pledged her life to him. And, the pactconcluded and solemnly sworn, they had parted without knowing whenpropitious circumstances might bring them together again.

"Certainly," thought she, "before God, M. de Tregars is my betrothedhusband; and yet we have never exchanged a word. Were we to meet insociety, we should be compelled to meet as strangers: if he passes byme in the street, he has no right to bow to me. I know not where heis, what becomes of him, nor what he is doing.

And in fact she had not seen him again: he had given no sign of life,so faithfully did he conform to her expressed wish. And perhapssecretly, and without acknowledging it to herself, had she wished himless scrupulous. Perhaps she would not have been very angry to seehim sometimes gliding along at her passage under the old Arcades ofthe Rue des Vosges.

But, whilst suffering from this separation, she conceived for thecharacter of Marius the highest esteem; for she felt sure that hemust suffer as much and more than she from the restraint which heimposed upon himself.

Thus he was ever present to her thoughts. She never tired ofturning over in her mind all he had said of his past life: shetried to remember his words, and the very tone of his voice.

And by living constantly thus with the memory of Marius de Tregars,she made herself familiar with him, deceived to that extent, bythe illusion of absence, that she actually persuaded herself thatshe knew him better and better every day.

Already nearly a month had elapsed, when one afternoon, as shearrived on the Place Royal; she recognized him, standing near thatsame bench where they had so strangely exchanged their pledges.

He saw her coming too: she knew it by his looks. But, when shehad arrived within a few steps of him, he walked off rapidly,leaving on the bench a folded newspaper.

Mme. Favoral wished to call him back and return it; but Mlle.

Gilberte persuaded her not to.

"Never mind, mother," said she, "it isn't worth while; and, besides,the gentleman is too far now."But while getting out her embroidery, with that dexterity which neverfails even the most naive girls, she slipped the newspaper in herwork-basket.

Was she not certain that it had been left there for her?

As soon as she had returned home, she locked herself up in her ownroom, and, after searching for some time through the columns, sheread at last:

"One of the richest and most intelligent manufacturers in Paris,M. Marcolet, has just purchased in Grenelle the vast groundsbelonging to the Lacoche estate. He proposes to build upon thema manufacture of chemical products, the management of which is tobe placed in the hands of M. de T--.

"Although still quite young, M. de T-- is already well known inconnection with his remarkable studies on electricity. He was,perhaps, on the eve of solving the much controverted problem ofelectricity as a motive-power, when his father's ruin compelled himto suspend his labors. He now seeks to earn by his personal industrythe means of prosecuting his costly experiments.

"He is not the first to tread this path. Is it not to the inventionof the machine bearing his name, that the engineer Giffard owes thefortune which enables him to continue to seek the means of steeringballoons? Why should not M. de T--, who has as much skill and energy,have as much luck?""Ah! he does not forget me," thought Mlle. Gilberte, moved to tearsby this article, which, after all, was but a mere puff, written byMarcolet himself, without the knowledge of M. de Tregars.

She was still under that impression, thinking that Marius was alreadyat work, when her father announced to her that he had discovered ahusband, and enjoined her to find him to her liking, as he, themaster, thought it proper that she should.

Hence the energy of her refusal.

But hence also, the imprudent vivacity which had enlightened Mlle.

Favoral, and which made her say:

"You hide something from me, Gilberte?"Never had the young girl been so cruelly embarrassed as she was atthis moment by this sudden and unforeseen perspicacity.

Would she confide to her mother?

She felt, indeed, no repugnance to do so, certain as she was, inadvance, of the inexhaustible indulgence of the poor woman; and,besides, she would have been delighted to have some one at lastwith whom she could speak of Marius.

But she knew that her father was not the man to give up a projectconceived by himself. She knew that he would return to the chargeobstinately, without peace, and without truce. Now, as she wasdetermined to resist with a no less implacable obstinacy, sheforesaw terrible struggles, all sorts of violence and persecutions.

Informed of the truth, would Mme. Favoral have strength enough toresist these daily storms? Would not a time come, when, called uponby her husband to explain the refusals of her daughter, threatened,terrified, she would confess all?

At one glance Mlle. Gilberte estimated the danger; and, drawing fromnecessity an audacity which was very foreign to her nature:

"You are mistaken, dear mother," said she, "I have concealed nothingfrom you."Not quite convinced; Mlle. Favoral shook her head.

"Then," said she, "you will yield.""Never!""Then there must be some reason you do not tell me.""None, except that I do not wish to leave you. Have you everthought what would be your existence if I were no longer here? Haveyou ever asked yourself what would become of you, between my father,whose despotism will grow heavier with age, and my brother?"Always prompt to defend her son:

"Maxence is not bad," she interrupted: "he will know how tocompensate me for the sorrows he has inflicted upon me."The young girl made a gesture of doubt:

"I wish it, dear mother," said she, "with all my heart; but I darenot hope for it. His repentance to-night was great and sincere; butwill he remember it to-morrow? Besides, don't you know that fatherhas fully resolved to separate himself from Maxence? Think ofyourself alone here with father."Mlle. Favoral shuddered at the mere idea.

"I would not suffer very long," she murmured. Mlle. Gilbertekissed her.

"It is because I wish you to live to be happy that I refuse tomarry," she exclaimed. "Must you not have your share of happinessin this world? Let me manage. Who knows what compensations thefuture may have in store for you? Besides, this person whom fatherhas selected for me does not suit me. A stock-jobber, who wouldthink of nothing but money, - who would examine my house-accountsas papa does yours, or else who would load me with cashmeres anddiamonds, like Mlle. de Thaller, to make of me a sign for his shop?

No, no! I want no such man. So, mother dear, be brave, take sidesboldly with your daughter, and we shall soon be rid of this would-behusband.""Your father will bring him to you: he said he would.""Well, he is a man of courage, if he returns three times."At this moment the parlor-door opened suddenly.

"What are you plotting here again?" cried the irritated voice ofthe master. "And you, Mme. Favoral, why don't you go to bed?"The poor slave obeyed, without saying a word. And, whilst makingher way to her room:

"There is trouble ahead," thought Mlle. Gilberte. "But bash! If Ido have to suffer some, it won't be great harm, after all. SurelyMarius does not complain, though he gives up for me his dearesthopes, becomes the salaried employe of M. Marcolet, and thinks ofnothing but making money, - he so proud and so disinterested!

Mlle. Gilberte's anticipations were but too soon realized. When M.

Favoral made his appearance the next morning, he had the sombre browand contracted lips of a man who has spent the night ruminating aplan from which he does not mean to swerve.

Instead of going to his office, as usual, without saying a word toany one, he called his wife and children to the parlor; and, afterhaving carefully bolted all the doors, he turned to Maxence.

"I want you," he commenced, "to give me a list of your creditors.

See that you forget none; and let it be ready as soon as possible."But Maxence was no longer the same man. After the terrible andwell-deserved reproaches of his sister, a salutary revolution hadtaken place in him. During the preceding night, he had reflectedover his conduct for the past four years; and he had been dismayedand terrified. His impression was like that of the drunkard, who,having become sober, remembers the ridiculous or degrading actswhich he has committed 'under the influence of alcohol, and, confusedand humiliated, swears never more to drink.

Thus Maxence had sworn to himself to change his mode of life,promising that it would be no drunkard's oath, either. And hisattitude and his looks showed the pride of great resolutions.

Instead of lowering his eyes before the irritated glance of M.

Favoral, and stammering excuses and vague promises:

"It is useless, father," he replied, "to give you the list you askfor. I am old enough to bear the responsibility of my acts. Ishall repair my follies: what I owe, I shall pay. This very day Ishall see my creditors, and make arrangements with them.

"Very well, Maxence," exclaimed Mlle. Favoral, delighted.

But there was no pacifying the cashier of the Mutual Credit.

"Those are fine-sounding words," he said with a sneer; "but I doubtif the tailors and the shirt-makers will take them in payment.

That's why I want that list.""Still - ""It's I who shall pay. I do not mean to have another such sceneas that of yesterday in my office. It must not be said that myson is a sharper and a cheat at the very moment when I find for mydaughter a most unhoped-for match."And, turning to Mlle. Gilberte:

"For I suppose you have got over your foolish ideas," he uttered.

The young girl shook her head.

"My ideas are the same as they were last night.""Ah, ah!""And so, father, I beg of you, do not insist. Why wrangle andquarrel? You must know me well enough to know, that, whatever mayhappen, I shall never yield."Indeed, M. Favoral was well aware of his daughter's firmness; forhe had already been compelled on several occasions, as he expressedit himself, "to strike his flag" before her. But he could notbelieve that she would resist when he took certain means ofenforcing his will.

"I have pledged my word," he said.

"But I have not pledged mine, father."He was becoming excited: his cheeks were flushed; and his littleeyes sparkled.

"And suppose I were to tell you," he resumed, doing at least to hisdaughter the honor of controlling his anger:" suppose I were totell you that I would derive from this marriage immense, positive,and immediate advantages?""Oh!" she interrupted with a look of disgust, "oh, for mercy's sake!""Suppose I were to tell you that I have a powerful interest in it;that it is indispensable to the success of vast combinations?"Mlle. Gilberte looked straight at him.

"I would answer you," she exclaimed, "that it does not suit me tobe made use of as an earnest to your combinations. Ah! it's anoperation, is it? an enterprise, a big speculation? and you throwin your daughter in the bargain as a bonus. Well, no! You cantell your partner that the thing has fallen through."M. Favoral's anger was growing with each word.

"I'll see if I can't make you yield," he said.

"You may crush me, perhaps. Make me yield, never!""Well, we shall see. You will see - Maxence and you - whether thereare no means by which a father can compel his rebellious children tosubmit to his authority."And, feeling that he was no longer master of himself, he left,swearing loud enough to shake the plaster from the stair-walls.

Maxence shook with indignation.

"Never," he uttered, "never until now, had I understood the infamyof my conduct. With a father such as ours, Gilberte, I should beyour protector. And now I am debarred even of the right tointerfere. But never mind, I have the will; and all will soon berepaired."Left alone, a few moments after, Mlle. Gilberte was congratulatingherself upon her firmness.

"I am sure," she thought, "Marius would approve, if he knew."She had not long to wait for her reward. The bell rang: it was herold professor, the Signor Gismondo Pulei, who came to give her hisdaily lesson.

The liveliest joy beamed upon his face, more shriveled than anapple at Easter; and the most magnificent anticipations sparkled inhis eyes.

"I knew it, signora!" he exclaimed from the thresh-old: "I knew thatangels bring good luck. As every thing succeeds to you, so mustevery thing succeed to those who come near you."She could not help smiling at the appropriateness of the compliment.

"Something fortunate has happened to you, dear master?" she asked.

"That is to say, I am on the high-road to fortune and glory," hereplied. "My fame is extending; pupils dispute the privilege ofmy lesson."Mlle. Gilberte knew too well the thoroughly Italian exaggeration ofthe worthy maestro to be surprised.

"This morning," he went on, "visited by inspiration, I had risenearly, and I was working with marvelous facility, when there was aknock at my door. I do not remember such an occurrence since theblessed day when your worthy father called for me. Surprised, Inevertheless said, 'Come in;' when there appeared a tall and robustyoung man, proud and intelligent-looking."The young girl started.

"Marius!" cried a voice within her.""This young man," continued the old Italian, "had heard me spokenof, and came to apply for lessons. I questioned him; and from thefirst words I discovered that his education had been frightfullyneglected, that he was ignorant of the most vulgar notions of thedivine art, and that he scarcely knew the difference between asharp and a quaver. It was really the A, B, C, which he wished meto teach him. Laborious task, ungrateful labor! But he manifestedso much shame at his ignorance, and so much desire to be instructed,that I felt moved in his favor. Then his countenance was mostwinning, his voice of a superior tone; and finally he offered mesixty francs a month. In short, he is now my pupil."As well as she could, Mlle. Gilberte was hiding her blushes behinda music-book.

"We remained over two hours talking," said the good and simplemaestro, "and I believe that he has excellent dispositions.

Unfortunately, he can only take two lessons a week. Although anobleman, he works; and, when he took off his glove to hand me amonth in advance, I noticed that one of his hands was blackened,as if burnt by some acid. But never mind, signora, sixty francs,together with what your father gives me, it's a fortune. The endof my career will be spared the privations of its beginning. Thisyoung man will help making me known. The morning has been dark;but the sunset will be glorious."The young girl could no longer have any doubts: M. de Tregars hadfound the means of hearing from her, and letting her hear from him.

The impression she felt contributed no little to give her thepatience to endure the obstinate persecution of her father, who,twice a day, never failed to repeat to her:

"Get ready to properly receive my protege on Saturday. I have notinvited him to dinner: he will only spend the evening with us."And he mistook for a disposition to yield the cold tone in whichshe answered:

"I beg you to believe that this introduction is wholly unnecessary."Thus, the famous day having come, he told his usual Saturday guests,M. and Mme. Desciavettes, M. Chapelain, and old man Desormeaux:

"Eh, eh! I guess you are going to see a future son-in- law!"At nine o'clock, just as they had passed into the parlor, the soundof carriage-wheels startled the Rue St. Gilles.

"There he is!" exclaimed the cashier of the Mutual Credit.

And, throwing open a window:

"Come, Gilberte," he added, "come and see his carriage and horses."She never stirred; but M. Desclavettes and M. Chapelain ran. It wasnight, unfortunately; and of the whole equipage nothing was visiblebut the two lanterns that shone like stars. Almost at the same timethe parlor-door flew open; and the servant, who had been properlytrained in advance, announced:

"Monsieur Costeclar."Leaning toward Mme. Favoral, who was seated by her side on the sofa,"A nice-looking man, isn't he? a really nice-looking man," whisperedMme. Desciavettes.

And indeed he really thought so himself. Gesture, attitude, smile,every thing in M. Costeclar, betrayed the satisfaction of self, andthe assurance of a man accustomed to success. His head, which wasvery small, had but little hair left; but it was artistically drawntowards the temples, parted in the middle, and cut short aroundthe forehead. His leaden complexion, his pale lips, and his dulleye, did not certainly betray a very rich blood; he had a great longnose, sharp and curved like a sickle; and his beard, of undecidedcolor, trimmed in the Victor Emmanuel style, did the greatest honorto the barber who cultivated it. Even when seen for the first time,one might fancy that he recognized him, so exactly was he like threeor four hundred others who are seen daily in the neighborhood ofthe Caf Riche, who are met everywhere where people run who pretendto amuse themselves, - at the bourse or in the bois; at the firstrepresentations, where they are just enough hidden to be perfectlywell seen at the back of boxes filled with young ladies withastonishing chignons; at the races; in carriages, where they drinkchampagne to the health of the winner.

He had on this occasion hoisted his best looks, and the full dressde rigueur - dress-coat with wide sleeves, shirt cut low in the neck,and open vest, fastened below the waist by a single button.

"Quite the man of the world," again remarked Mme. Desclavettes.

M. Favoral rushed toward him; and the latter, hastening, met himhalf way, and, taking both his hands into his - "I cannot tell you,dear friend," he commenced, "how deeply I feel the honor you do mein receiving me in the midst of your charming family and yourrespectable friends."And he bowed all around during this speech, which he delivered inthe condescending tone of a lord visiting his inferiors.

"Let me introduce you to my wife," interrupted the cashier. And,leading him towards Mme. Favoral - "Monsieur Costeclar, my dear,"said he:" the friend of whom we have spoken so often."M. Costeclar bowed, rounding his shoulders, bending his lean formin a half-circle, and letting his arms hang forward.

"I am too much the friend of our dear Favoral, madame," he uttered,"not to have heard of you long since, nor to know your merits, andthe fact that he owes to you that peaceful happiness which he enjoys,and which we all envy him."Standing by the mantel-piece, the usual Saturday evening guestsfollowed with the liveliest interest the evolutions of the pretender.

Two of them, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, were perfectly ableto appreciate him at his just value; but, in affirming that he madehalf a million a year, M. Favoral had, as it were, thrown over hisshoulders that famous ducal cloak which concealed all deformities.

Without waiting for his wife's answer, M. Favoral brought hisprotege in front of Mlle. Gilberte.

"Dear daughter,"said he, "Monsieur Costeclar, the friend of whomI have spoken."M. Costeclar bowed still lower, and rounded off his shoulders again;but the young lady looked at him from head to foot with such afreezing glance, that his tongue remained as if paralyzed in hismouth, and he could only stammer out:

"Mademoiselle! the honor, the humblest of your admirers."Fortunately Maxence was standing three steps off - he fell hack ingood order upon him, and seizing his hand, which he shook vigorously:

"I hope, my dear sir, that we shall soon be quite intimate friends.

Your excellent father, whose special concern you are, has oftenspoken to me of you. Events, so he has confided to me, have nothitherto responded to your expectations. At your age, this is nota very grave natter. People, now-a-days, do not always find at thefirst attempt the road that leads to fortune. You will find yours.

From this time forth I place at your command my influence and myexperience; and, if you will consent to take me for your guide -"Maxence had withdrawn his hand.

"I am very much obliged to you, sir," he answered coldly; "but I amcontent with my lot, and I believe myself old enough to walk alone."Almost any one would have lost countenance. But M. Costeclar wasso little put out, that it seemed as though he had expected justsuch a reception. He turned upon his heels, and advanced towardsM. Favoral's friends with a smile so engaging as to make it evidentthat he was anxious to conquer their suff rages.

This was at the beginning of the month of June, 1870. No one asyet could foresee the frightful disasters which were to mark theend of that fatal year. And yet there was everywhere in Francethat indefinable anxiety which precedes great social convulsions.

The plebiscitum had not succeeded in restoring confidence. Everyday the most alarming rumors were put in circulation and it was witha sort of passion that people went in quest of news.

Now, M. Costeclar was a wonderfully well-posted man. He had,doubtless, on his way, stopped on the Boulevard des Italiens, thatblessed ground where nightly the street-brokers labor for thefinancial prosperity of the country. He had gone through the Passagede l'Opera, which is, as is well known, the best market for the mostcorrect and the most reliable news. Therefore he might safely bebelieved.

Placing his hack to the chimney, he had taken the lead in theconversation; and he was talking, talking, talking. Being a "bull,"he took a favorable view of every thing. He believed in theeternity of the second empire. He sang the praise of the newcabinet: he was ready to pour out his blood for Emile Ollivier.

True, some people complained that business was dull and slow; butthose people, he thought, were merely "bears." Business had neverbeen so brilliant. At no time had prosperity been greater. Capitalwas abundant. The institutions of credit were flourishing.

Securities were rising. Everybody's pockets were full to bursting.

And the others listened in astonishment to this inexhaustibleprattle, this "gab," more filled with gold spangles than Dantzigcordial, with which the commercial travelers of the bourse catchtheir customers.

Suddenly:

"But you must excuse me," he said, rushing towards the other end ofthe parlor.

Mme. Favoral had just left the room to order tea to be brought in;and, the seat by Mlle. Gilberte being vacant, M. Costeclar occupiedit promptly.

"He understands his business," growled M. Desormeaux.

Surely," said M. Desclavettes, "If I had some funds to dispose ofjust now.""I would be most happy to have him for my son-in-law," declared M.

Favoral.

He was doing his best. Somewhat intimidated by Mlle. Gilberte'sfirst look, he had now fully recovered his wits.

He commenced by sketching his own portrait.

He had just turned thirty, and had experienced the strong and theweak side of life. He had had "successes," but had tired of them.

Having gauged the emptiness of what is called pleasure, he onlywished now to find a partner for life, whose graces and virtueswould secure his domestic happiness.

He could not help noticing the absent look of the young girl; buthe had, thought he, other means of compelling her attention. Andhe went on, saying that he felt himself cast of the metal of whichmodel husbands are made. His plans were all made in advance. Hiswife would be free to do as she pleased. She would have her owncarriage and horses, her box at the Italiens and at the Opera, andan open account at Worth's and Van Klopen's. As to diamonds, hewould take care of that. He meant that his wife's display ofwealth should be noticed; and even spoken of in the newspapers.

Was this the terms of a bargain that he was offering?

If so, it was so coarsely, that Mlle. Gilberte, ignorant of life asshe was, wondered in what world it might be that he had met with somany "successes." And, somewhat indignantly:

"Unfortunately," she said, "the bourse is perfidious; and the manwho drives his own carriage to-day, to-morrow may have no shoes towear."M. Costeclar nodded with a smile.

"Exactly so," said he. "A marriage protects one against suchreverses.""Every man in active business, when he marries, settles upon hiswife reasonable fortune. I expect to settle six hundred thousandfrancs upon mine.""So that, if you were to meet with an - accident?""We should enjoy our thirty thousand a year under the very nose ofthe creditors."Blushing with shame, Mlle. Gilberte rose.

"But then," said she, "it isn't a wife that you are looking for: itis an accomplice."He was spared the embarrassment of an answer, by the servant, whocame in, bringing in tea. He accepted a cup; and after two orthree anecdotes, judging that he had done enough for a first visit,he withdrew, and a moment later they heard his carriage driving offat full gallop.
Chapter XVI
It was not without mature thought that M. Costeclar had determinedto withdraw, despite M. Favoral's pressing overtures. Howeverinfatuated he might be with his own merits, he had been compelledto surrender to evidence, and to acknowledge that he had not exactlysucceeded with Mlle. Gilberte. But he also knew that he had thehead of the house on his side; and he flattered himself that hehad produced an excellent impression upon the guests of the house.

"Therefore," had he said to himself, "if I leave first, they willsing my praise, lecture the young person, and make her listen toreason."He was not far from being right. Mme. Desciavettes had beencompletely subjugated by the grand manners of this pretender; andM. Desclavettes did not hesitate to affirm that he had rarely metany one who pleased him more.

The others, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, did not, doubtless,share this optimism; but M. Costeclar's annual half-millionobscured singularly their clear-sightedness.

They thought perhaps, they had discovered in him some alarmingfeatures; but they had full and entire confidence in their friendFavoral's prudent sagacity.

The particular and methodic cashier of the Mutual Credit was notapt to he enthusiastic; and, if he opened the doors of his house toa young man, if he was so anxious to have him for his son-in-law,he must evidently have taken ample information.

Finally there are certain family matters from which sensible peoplekeep away as they would from the plague; and, on the question ofmarriage especially, he is a bold man who would take side for oragainst.

Thus Mme. Desciavettes was the only one to raise her voice. TakingMlle. Gilberte's hands within hers:

"Let me scold you, my dear," said she, "for having received thus apoor young man who was only trying to please you."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.

The idea came to her mind to repeat there boldly what she had alreadytold her father that she was resolved not to marry, and that shewould not marry, not being one of those weak girls, without energy,whom they dress in white, and drag to church against their will.

Such a bold declaration would be in keeping with her character.

But she feared a terrible, and perhaps degrading scene. The mostintimate friends of the family were ignorant of its most painfulsores. In presence of his friends, M. Favoral dissembled, speakingin a mild voice, and assuming a kindly smile. Should she suddenlyreveal the truth?

"It is childish of you to run the risk of discouraging a cleverfellow who makes half a million a year," continued the wife of theold bronze-merchant, to whom such conduct seemed an abominable crimeof lese-money. Mlle. Gilberte had withdrawn her bands.

"You did not hear what he said, madame.""I beg your pardon: I was quite near, and involuntarily -""You have heard his - propositions?""Perfectly. He was promising you a carriage, a box at the opera,diamonds, freedom. Isn't that the dream of all young ladies?""It is not mine, madame!""Dear me! What better can you wish? You must not expect more froma husband than he can possibly give.""That is not what I shall expect of him."In a tone of paternal indulgence, which his looks belied:

"She is mad," suggested M. Favoral.

Tears of indignation filled Mlle. Gilberte's eyes.

"Mme. Desciavettes," she exclaimed, "forgets something. She forgetsthat this gentleman dared to tell me that he proposed to settle uponthe woman he marries a large fortune, of which his creditors wouldthus be cheated in case of his failure in business."She thought, in her simplicity, that a cry of indignation would riseat these words. Instead of which:

"Well, isn't it perfectly natural?" said M. Desclavettes.

"It seems to me more than natural," insisted Mme. Desclavettes,"that a man should be anxious to preserve from ruin his wife andchildren.""Of course," put in M. Favoral.

Stepping resolutely toward her father:

"Have you, then, taken such precautions yourself?" demanded Mlle.

Gilberte.

"No," answered the cashier of the Mutual Credit. And, after amoment of hesitation:

"But I am running no risks," he added. "In business, and when aman may be ruined by a mere rise or fall in stocks, he would beinsane indeed who did not secure bread for his family, and, aboveall, means for himself, wherewith to commence again. The Baron deThaller did not act otherwise; and, should he meet with a disaster,Mme. de Thaller would still have a handsome fortune."M. Desormeaux was, perhaps, the only one not to admit freely thattheory, and not to accept that ever-decisive reason, " Others do it."But he was a philosopher, and thought it silly not to be of his time.

He therefore contented himself with saying:

"Hum! M. de Thaller's creditors might not think that mode ofproceeding entirely regular.""Then they might sue," said M. Chapelain, laughing. "People canalways sue; only when the papers are well drawn -"Mlle. Gilberte stood dismayed. She thought of Marius de Tregarsgiving up his mother's fortune to pay his father's debts.

"What would he say," thought she, "should he hear such opinions!"The cashier of the Mutual Credit resumed:

"Surely I blame every species of fraud. But I pretend, and Imaintain, that a man who has worked twenty years to give a handsomedowry to his daughter has the right to demand of his son-in-lawcertain conservative measures to guarantee the money, which, afterall, is his own, and which is to benefit no one but his own family."This declaration closed the evening. It was getting late. TheSaturday guests put on their overcoats; and, as they were walkinghome,"Can you understand that little Gilberte?" said Mme. Desciavettes.

"I'd like to see a daughter of mine have such fancies! But herpoor mother is so weak!""Yes; but friend Favoral is firm enough for both," interrupted M.

Desormeaux; "and it is more than probable that at this very momenthe is correcting his daughter of the sin of sloth."Well, not at all. Extremely angry as M. Favoral must have been,neither that evening, nor the next day, did he make the remotestallusion to what had taken place.

The following Monday only, before leaving for his office, castingupon his wife and daughter one of his ugliest looks:

"M. Costeclar owes us a visit," said he; "and it is possible thathe may call in my absence. I wish him to be admitted; and I forbidyou to go out, so that you can have no pretext to refuse him thedoor. I presume there will not be found in my house any one boldenough to ill receive a man whom I like, and whom I have selectedfor my son-in law."But was it probable, was it even possible, that M. Costeclar couldventure upon such a step after Mlle. Gilberte's treatment of him onthe previous Saturday evening?

"No, a thousand times no!" affirmed Maxence to his mother and sister.

"So you may rest easy."Indeed they tried to be, until that very afternoon the sound ofrapidly-rolling wheels attracted Mme. Favoral to the window. Acoupe, drawn by two gray horses, had just stopped at the door.

"It must be he," she said to her daughter.

Mlle. Gilberte had turned slightly pale.

"There is no help for it, mother," she said: "You must receive him.""And you?"I shall remain in my room.""Do you suppose he won't ask for you?""You will answer that I am unwell. He will understand.""But your father, unhappy child, your father?""I do not acknowledge to my father the right of disposing of myperson against my wishes. I detest that man to whom he wishes tomarry me. Would you like to see me his wife, to know me given upto the most intolerable torture? No, there is no violence in theworld that will ever wring my consent from me. So, mother dear,do what I ask you. My father can say what he pleases: I take thewhole responsibility upon myself."There was no time to argue: the bell rang. Mlle. Gilberte hadbarely time to escape through one of the doors of the parlor,whilst M. Costeclar was entering at the other.

If he did have enough perspicacity to guess what had just takenplace, he did not in any way show it. He sat down; and it wasonly after conversing for a few moments upon indifferent subjects,that he asked how Mlle. Gilberte was.

"She is somewhat - unwell," stammered Mme. Favoral.

He did not appear surprised; only,"Our dear Favoral," he said, "will be still more pained than I amwhen he hears of this mishap."Better than any other mother, Mme. Favoral must have understood andapproved Mlle. Gilberte's invincible repugnance. To her also, whenshe was young, her father had come one day, and said, "I havediscovered a husband for you." She had accepted him blindly. Bruisedand wounded by daily outrages, she had sought refuge in marriage asin a haven of safety.

And since, hardly a day had elapsed that she had not thought itwould have been better for her to have died rather then to haveriveted to her neck those fetters that death alone can remove. Shethought, therefore, that her daughter was perfectly right. And yettwenty years of slavery had so weakened the springs of her energy,that under the glance of Costeclar, threatening her with herhusband's name, she felt embarrassed, and could scarcely stammersome timid excuses. And she allowed him to prolong his visit, andconsequently her torment, for over an half an hour; then, when hehad gone,"He and your father understand each other," said she to her daughter,"that is but too evident. What is the use of struggling?"A fugitive blush colored the pale cheeks of Mlle. Gilberte. Forthe past forty-eight hours she had been exhausting herself, seekingan issue to an impossible situation; and she had accustomed her mindto the worst eventualities.

"Do you wish me, then, to desert the paternal roof?" she exclaimed.

Mme. Favoral almost dropped on the floor.

"You would run away," she stammered, "you!""Rather than become that man's wife, yes!""And where would you go, unfortunate child? what would you do?""I can earn my living."Mme. Favoral shook her head sadly. The same suspicions were revivingwithin her that she had felt once before.

"Gilberte," she said in a beseeching tone, "am I, then, no longeryour best friend? and will you not tell me from what sources youdraw your courage and your resolution?"And, as her daughter said nothing:

"God alone knows what may happen!" sighed the poor woman.

Nothing happened, but what could have been easily foreseen. WhenM. Favoral came home to dinner, he was whistling a perfect stormon the stairs. He abstained at first from all recrimination; buttowards the end of the meal, with the most sarcastic look he couldassume:

"It seems," he said to his daughter, "that you were unwell thisafternoon?"Bravely, and without flinching, she sustained his look; and, in afirm voice:

"I shall always be indisposed," she replied, "when M. Costeclarcalls. You hear me, don't you, father - always!"But the cashier of the Credit Mutual was not one of those men whosewrath finds vent in mere sarcasms. Rising suddenly to his feet:

"By the holy heavens!" he screamed forth, "you are wrong to triflethus with my will; for, all of you here, I shall crush you as I dothis glass."And, with a frenzied gesture, he dashed the glass he held in hishand against the wall, where it broke in a thousand pieces.

Trembling like a leaf, Mme. Favoral staggered upon her chair.
Chapter XVII
　　"Better kill her at once," said Mlle. Gilberte coldly. "She wouldsuffer less."It was by a torrent of invective that M. Favoral replied. His rage,dammed up for the past four days, finding at last an outlet, flowedin gross insults and insane threats. He spoke of throwing out inthe street his wife and children, or starving them out, or shuttingup his daughter in a house of correction; until at last, languagefailing his fury, beside himself, he left, swearing that he wouldbring M. Costeclar home himself, and then they would see.

"Very well, we shall see," said Mlle. Gilberte.

Motionless in his place, and white as a plaster cast, Maxence hadwitnessed this lamentable scene. A gleam of common-sense hadenabled him to control his indignation, and to remain silent. Hehad understood, that, at the first word, his father's fury wouldhave turned against him; and then what might have happened? Themost frightful dramas of the criminal courts have often had noother origin.

"No, this is no longer bearable!" he exclaimed.

Even at the time of his greatest follies, Maxence had always hadfor his sister a fraternal affection. He admired her from the dayshe had stood up before him to reproach him for his misconduct. Heenvied her her quiet determination, her patient tenacity, and thatcalm energy that never failed her.

"Have patience, my poor Gilberte," he added: "the day is not far,I hope, when I may commence to repay you all you have done for me.

I have not lost my time since you restored me my reason. I havearranged with my creditors. I have found a situation, which, ifnot brilliant, is at least sufficiently lucrative to enable mebefore long to offer you, as well as to our mother, a peacefulretreat.""But it is to-morrow," interrupted Mme. Favoral, "to-morrow thatyour father is to bring M. Costeclar. He has said so, and he willdo it."And so he did. About two o'clock in the afternoon M. Favoral andhis protege arrived in the Rue St. Gilles, in that famous coupewith the two horses, which excited the wonder of the neighbors.

But Mlle. Gilberte bad her plan ready. 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.

When her father came for her, and saw her in bed, he remainedsurprised and puzzled on the threshold of the door.

"And yet I'll make you come into the parlor!" he said in a hoarsevoice.

"Then you must carry me there as I am," she said in a tone ofdefiance; "for I shall certainly not get up."For the first time since his marriage, M. Favoral met in his ownhouse a more inflexible will than his own, and a more unyieldingobstinacy. He was baffled. He threatened his daughter with hisclinched fists, but could discover no means of making her obey.

He was compelled to surrender, to yield.

"This will be settled with the rest," he growled, as he went out.

"I fear nothing in the world, father," said the girl.

It was almost true, so much did the thought of Marius de Tregarsinflame her courage. Twice already she had heard from him throughthe Signor Gismondo Pulei, who never tired talking of this new pupil,to whom he had already given two lessons.

"He is the most gallant man in the world," he said, his eye sparklingwith enthusiasm, " and the bravest, and the most generous, and thebest; and no quality that can adorn one of God's creatures shall bewanting in him when I have taught him the divine art. It is notwith a little contemptible gold that he means to reward my zeal.

To him I am as a second father; and it is with the confidence of ason that he explains to me his labors and his hopes."Thus Mlle. Gilberte learned through the old maestro, that thenewspaper article she had read was almost exactly true, and thatM. de Tregars and M. Marcolet had become associated for the purposeof working, in joint account, certain recent discoveries, which bidfair to yield large profits in a near future.

"And yet it is for my sake alone that he has thus thrown himselfinto the turmoil of business, and has become as eager for gain asthat M. Marcolet himself."And, at the height of her father's persecutions, she felt glad ofwhat she had done, and of her boldness in placing her destiny in thehands of a stranger. The memory of Marius had become her refuge,the element of all her dreams and of all her hopes; in a word, herlife.

It was of Marius she was thinking, when her mother, surprising hergazing into vacancy, would ask her, "What are you thinking of?" And,at every new vexation she had to endure, her imagination decked himwith a new quality, and she clung to him with a more desperate grasp.

"How much he would grieve," thought she, "if he knew of whatpersecution I am the object!"And very careful was she not to allow the Signor Gismondo Pulei tosuspect any thing of it, affecting, on the contrary, in his presence,the most cheerful serenity.

And yet she was a prey to the most cruel anxiety, since she observeda new and most incredible transformation in her father.

That man so violent and so harsh, who flattered himself never tohave been bent, who boasted never to have forgotten or forgiven anything, that domestic tyrant, had become quite a debonair personage.

He had referred to the expedient imagined by Mlle. Gilberte only tolaugh at it, saying that it was a good trick, and he deserved it;for he repented bitterly, he protested, his past brutalities.

He owned that he had at heart his daughter's marriage with M.

Costeclar; but he acknowledged that he had made use of the surestmeans for making it fail. He should, he humbly confessed, haveexpected every thing of time and circumstances, of M. Costeclar'sexcellent qualities, and of his beautiful, darling daughter'sgood sense.

More than of all his violence, Mme. Favoral was terrified at thisaffected good nature.

"Dear me!" she sighed, "what does it all mean?"But the cashier of the Mutual Credit was not preparing any newsurprise to his family. If the means were different, it was stillthe same object that he was pursuing with the tenacity of an insect.

When severity had failed, he hoped to succeed by gentleness, that'sall. Only this assumption of hypocritical meekness was too newto him to deceive any one. At every moment the mask fell off, theclaws showed, and his voice trembled with ill-suppressed rage inthe midst of his most honeyed phrases.

Moreover, he entertained the strangest illusions. Because forforty-eight hours he had acted the part of a good-natured man,because one Sunday he had taken his wife and daughter out riding inthe Bois de Vincennes, because he had given Maxence a hundred-francnote, he imagined that it was all over, that the past was obliterated,forgotten, and forgiven.

And, drawing Gilberte upon his knees,"Well, daughter," he said, "you see that I don't importune you anymore, and I leave you quite free. I am more reasonable than you are."But on the other hand, and according to an expression which escapedhim later, he tried to turn the enemy.

He did every thing in his power to spread in the neighborhood therumor of Mlle. Gilberte's marriage with a financier of colossalwealth, - that elegant young man who came in a coupe with two horses.

Mme. Favoral could not enter a shop without being covertlycomplimented upon having found such a magnificent establishment forher daughter.

Loud, indeed, must have been the gossip; for its echo reached eventhe inattentive ears of the Signor Gismondo Pulei.

One day, suddenly interrupting his lesson, - "You are going to bemarried, signora?" he inquired.

Mlle. Gilberte started.

What the old Italian had heard, he would surely ere long repeat toMarius. It was therefore urgent to undeceive him.

"It is true," she replied, "that something has been said about amarriage, dear maestro.""Ah, ah!""Only my father had not consulted me. That marriage will nevertake place: I swear it."She expressed herself in a tone of such ardent conviction, that theold gentleman was quite astonished, little dreaming that it was notto him that this energetic denial was addressed.

"My destiny is irrevocably fixed," added Mlle. Gilberte. "When Imarry, I will consult the inspirations of my heart only."In the mean time, it was a veritable conspiracy against her. M.

Favoral had succeeded in interesting in the success of his designshis habitual guests, not M. and Mme. Desciavettes, who had beenseduced from the first, but M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux himself.

So that they all vied with each other in their efforts to bring the"dear child" to reason, and to enlighten her with their counsels.

"Father must have a still more considerable interest in this alliancethan he has allowed us to think," she remarked to her brother.

Maxence was also absolutely of the same opinion.

"And then," he added, "our father must be terribly rich; for, do notdeceive yourself, it isn't solely for your pretty blue eyes thatthis Costeclar persists in coming here twice a week to pocket a newmortification. What enormous dowry can he be hoping for? I amgoing to speak to him myself, and try to find out what he is after."But Mlle. Gilberte had but slight confidence in her brother'sdiplomacy.

"I beg of you," she said, "don't meddle with that business!""Yes, yes, I will! Fear nothing, I'll be prudent."Having taken his resolution, Maxence placed himself on the lookout;and the very next day, as M. Costeclar was stepping out of hiscarriage at the door, he walked straight up to him.

"I wish to speak to you, sir," he said. Self-possessed as he was,the brilliant financier succeeded but poorly in concealing a surprisethat looked very much like fright.

"I am going in to call on your parents, sir," he replied; "and whilstwaiting for your father, with whom I have an appointment, I shall beat your command.""No, no!" interrupted Maxence. "What I have to say must be heard byyou alone. Come along this way, and we shall not be interrupted."And he led M. Costeclar away as far as the Place Royal. Once there,"You are very anxious to marry my sister, sir," he commenced.

During their short walk M. Costeclar had recovered himself. He hadresumed all his impertinent assurance. Looking at Maxence from headto foot with any thing but a friendly look,"It is my dearest and my most ardent wish, sir," he replied.

"Very well. But you must have noticed the very slight success, touse no harsher word, of your assiduities.""Alas!""And, perhaps, you will judge, like myself, that it would be the actof a gentleman to withdraw in presence of such positive-repugnance?"An ugly smile was wandering upon M. Costeclar's pale lips.

"Is it at the request of your sister, sir, that you make me thiscommunication?""No, sir.""Are you aware whether your sister has some inclination that may bean obstacle to the realization of my hopes?""Sir!""Excuse me! What I say has nothing to offend. It might very wellbe that your sister, before I had the honor of being introduced toher, had already fixed her choice."He spoke so loud, that Maxence looked sharply around to see whetherthere was not some one within hearing. He saw no one but a youngman, who seemed quite absorbed reading a newspaper.

"But, sir," he resumed, "what would you answer, if I, the brotherof the young lady whom you wish to marry against her wishes, - Icalled upon you to cease your assiduities?

M. Costeclar bowed ceremoniously,"I would answer you, sir," he uttered, "that your father's assentis sufficient for me. My suit has nothing but is honorable. Yoursister may not like me: that is a misfortune; but it is notirreparable. When she knows me better, I venture to hope that shewill overcome her unjust prejudices. Therefore I shall persist."Maxence insisted no more. He was irritated at M. Costeclar'scoolness; but it was not his intention to push things further.

"There will always be time," he thought, "to resort to violentmeasures."But when he reported this conversation to his sister,"It is clear," he said, "that, between our father and that man,there is a community of interests which I am unable to discover.

What business have they together? In what respect can your marriageeither help or injure them? I must see, try and find out exactlywho is this Costeclar: the deuse take him!"He started out the same day, and had not far to go.

M. Costeclar was one of those personalities which only bloom inParis, and are only met in Paris, - the same as cab-horses, andyoung ladies with yellow chignons.

He knew everybody, and everybody knew him.

He was well known at the bourse, in all the principal restaurants,where he called the waiters by their first names, at the box-officeof the theatres, at all the pool-rooms, and at the European Club,otherwise called the Nomadic Club, of which he was a member.

He operated at the bourse: that was sure. He was said to own athird interest in a stock-broker's office. He had a good deal ofbusiness with M. Jottras, of the house of Jottras and Brother, andM. Saint Pavin, the manager of a very popular journal, "The FinancialPilot."It was further known that he had on Rue Vivienne, a magnificentapartment, and that he had successively honored with his liberalprotection Mlle. Sidney of the Varieties, and Mme. Jenny Fancy, alady of a certain age already, but so situated as to return to herlovers in notoriety what they gave her in good money. So much didMaxence learn without difficulty. As to any more precise details,it was impossible to obtain them. To his pressing questions uponM. Costeclar's antecedents,"He is a perfectly honest man," answered some.

"He is simply a speculator," affirmed others.

But all agreed that he was a sharp one," who would surely make hisfortune, and without passing through the police-courts, either.

"How can our father and such a man be so intimately connected?"wondered Maxence and his sister.

And they were lost in conjectures, when suddenly, at an hour whenhe never set his foot in the house, M. Favoral appeared.

Throwing a letter upon his daughter's lap,"See what I have just received from Costeclar," he said in a hoarsevoice. "Read."She read, "Allow me, dear friend, to release you from your engagement.

Owing to circumstances absolutely beyond my control, I find myselfcompelled to give up the honor of becoming a member of your family."What could have happened?

Standing in the middle of the parlor, the cashier of the Mutual Creditheld, 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 theexplosion of her immense joy.

Every thing in M. Favoral betrayed, nevertheless, much more theexcitement of a disaster than the rage of a deception.

Never had his family seen him thus, - livid, his cravat undone, hishair wet with perspiration, and clinging to his temples.

"Will you please explain this letter? " he asked at last.

And, as no one answered him, he took up that letter again from thetable where Mlle. Gilberte bad laid it, and commenced reading itagain, scanning each syllable, as if in hopes of discovering in eachword some hidden meaning.

"What did you say to Costeclar?" he resumed, "what did you do tohim to make him take such a determination?""Nothing," answered Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte.

The hope of being at last rid of that man inspired Mme. Favoral withsomething like courage.

"He has doubtless understood," she meekly suggested, "that he couldnot triumph over our daughters repugnance."But her husband interrupted her,"No," he uttered, "Costeclar is not the man to trouble himself aboutthe ridiculous caprices of a little girl. There is something else.

But what is it? Come, if you know it, any of you, if you suspect iteven, speak, say it. You must see that I am in a state of fearfulanxiety."It was the first time that he thus allowed something to appear ofwhat was passing within him, the first time that he ever complained.

"M. Costeclar alone, father, can give you the explanation you ask ofus," said Mlle. Gilberte.

The cashier of the Mutual Credit shook his head. "Do you suppose,then, that I have not questioned him? I found his letter thismorning at the office. At once I ran to his apartments, RueVivienne. He had just gone out; and it is in vain that I calledfor him at Jottras', and at the office of 'The Financial Pilot.'

I found him at last at the bourse, after running three hours. ButI could only get from him evasive answers and vague explanations.

Of course he did not fail to say, that, if he does withdraw, it isbecause he despairs of ever succeeding in pleasing Gilberte. Butit isn't so: I know it; I am sure of it; I read it in his eyes.

Twice his lips moved as if he were about to confess all; and thenhe said nothing. And the more I insisted, the more he seemed illat ease, embarrassed, uneasy, troubled, the more he appeared to melike a man who has been threatened, and dares not brave the threat."He directed upon his children one of those obstinate looks whichsearch the inmost depths of the conscience.

"If you have done any thing to drive him off," he resumed, "confessit frankly, and I swear I will not reproach you.""We did not.""You did not threaten him?""No!"M. Favoral seemed appalled.

"Doubtless you deceive me," he said, "and I hope you do. Unhappychildren! you do not know what this rupture may cost you.

And, instead of returning to his office, he shut himself up in thatlittle room which he called his study, and only came out of it atabout five o'clock, holding under his arm an enormous bundle ofpapers, 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 homeat all, being compelled to make up for his lost day.

"What is the matter with your father, my poor children?" exclaimedMme. Favoral. "I have never seen him in such a state.""Doubtless," replied Maxence, "the rupture with Costeclar is goingto break up some combination."But that explanation did not satisfy him any more than it did hismother. He, too, felt a vague apprehension of some impendingmisfortune. But what? He had nothing upon which to base hisconjectures. He knew nothing, any more than his mother, of hisfather's affairs, of his relations, of his interests, or even ofhis life, outside the house.

And mother and son lost themselves in suppositions as vain as ifthey had tried to find the solution of a problem, without possessingits terms.

With a single word Mlle. Gilberte thought she might have enlightenedthem.

In the unerring certainty of the blow, in the crushing promptnessof the result, she thought she could recognize the hand of Mariusde Tregars.

She recognized the hand of the man who acts, and does not talk.

And the girl's pride felt flattered by this victory, by this proofof the powerful energy of the man whom, unknown to all, she hadselected. She liked to imagine Marius de Tregars and M. Costeclarin presence of each other, - the one as imperious and haughty asshe had seen him meek and trembling; the other more humble stillthan he was arrogant with her.

"One thing is certain," she repeated to herself; "and that is, Iam saved."And she wished the morrow to come, that she might announce herhappiness to the very involuntary and very unconscious accompliceof Marius, the worthy Maestro Gismondo Pulei.

The next day M. Favoral seemed to have resigned himself to thefailure of his projects; and, the following Saturday, he told as apleasant joke, how Mlle. Gilberte had carried the day, and hadmanaged to dismiss her lover.

But a close observer could discover in him symptoms of devouringcares. Deep wrinkles showed along his temples; his eyes were sunken;a continued tension of mind contracted his features. Often duringthe dinner he would remain motionless for several minutes, hisfork aloft; and then he would murmur, "How is it all going to end?"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 "The Financial Pilot," came to see him. Theycloseted themselves together, and remained for hours in conference,speaking so low, that not even a vague murmur could be heardoutside the door.

"Your father has grave subjects of anxiety, my children," said Mme.

Favoral: "you may believe me, - me, who for twenty years have beentrying to guess our fate upon his countenance."But the political events were sufficient to explain any amount ofanxiety. It was the second week of July, 1870; and the destiniesof France trembled, as upon a cast of the dice, in the hands of afew presumptuous incapables. Was it war with Prussia, or was itpeace, that was to issue from the complications of a childishlyastute policy?

The most contradictory rumors caused daily at the bourse the mostviolent oscillations, which endangered the safest fortunes. A fewwords uttered in a corridor by Emile Ollivier had made a dozen heavyoperators rich, but had ruined five hundred small ones. On allhands, credit was trembling.

Until one evening when he came home,"War is declared," said M. Favoral.

It was but too true; and no one then had any fears of the resultfor France. They had so much exalted the French army, they hadso often said that it was invincible, that every one among thepublic expected a series of crushing victories.

Alas! the first telegram announced a defeat. People refused tobelieve it at first. But there was the evidence. The soldiers haddied bravely; but the chiefs had been incapable of leading them.

From that time, and with a vertiginous rapidity, from day to day,from hour to hour, the fatal news came crowding on. Like a riverthat overflows its banks, Prussia was overrunning France. Bazainewas surrounded at Metz; and the capitulation of Sedan capped theclimax of so many disasters.

At last, on the 4th of September, the republic was proclaimed.

On the 5th, when the Signor Gismondo Pulei presented himself at RueSt. Gilles, his face bore such an expression of anguish, that Mlle.

Gilberte could not help asking what was the matter.

He rose on that question, and, threatening heaven with his clinchedfist,"Implacable fate does not tire to persecute me," he replied. "Ihad overcome all obstacles: I was happy: I was looking forward toa future of fortune and glory. No, the dreadful war must break out."For the worthy maestro, this terrible catastrophe was but a newcaprice of his own destiny.

"What has happened to you?" inquired the young girl, repressing asmile.

"It happens to me, signora, that I am about to lose my belovedpupil. He leaves me; he forsakes me. In vain have I thrown myselfat his feet. My tears have not been able to detain him. He is goingto fight; he leaves; he is a soldier!"Then it was given to Mlle. Gilberte to see clearly within her soul.

Then she understood how absolutely she had given herself up, and towhat extent she had ceased to belong to herself.

Her sensation was terrible, such as if her whole blood had suddenlyescaped through her open arteries. She turned pale, her teethchattered; and she seemed so near fainting, that the Signor Gismondosprang to the door, crying, "Help, help! she is dying."Mme. Favoral, frightened, came running in. But already, thanks toan all-powerful projection of will, Mlle. Gilberte had recovered,and, smiling a pale smile,"It's nothing, mamma," she said. "A sudden pain in the head; butit's gone already."The worthy maestro was in perfect agony. Taking Mme. Favoral aside,"It is my fault," he said. "It is the story of my unheard-ofmisfortunes that has upset her thus. Monstrous egotist that I am!

I should have been careful of her exquisite sensibility."She insisted, nevertheless, upon taking her lesson as usual, andrecovered enough presence of mind to extract from the Signor Gismondoeverything that his much-regretted pupil had confided to him.

That was not much. He knew that his pupil had gone, like anyoneelse, to Rue de Cherche Midi; that he had signed an engagement;and had been ordered to join a regiment in process of formationnear Tours. And, as he went out,"That is nothing," said the kind maestro to Mme. Favoral. "Thesignora has quite recovered, and is as gay as a lark."The signora, shut up in her room, was shedding bitter tears. Shetried to reason with herself, and could not succeed. Never hadthe strangeness of her situation so clearly appeared to her. Sherepeated to herself that she must be mad to have thus becomeattached to a stranger. She wondered how she could have allowedthat love, which was now her very life, to take possession of hersoul. But to what end? It no longer rested with her to undo whathad been done.

When she thought that Marius de Tregars was about to leave Paristo become a soldier, to fight, to die perhaps, she felt her headwhirl; she saw nothing around her but despair and chaos.

And, the more she thought, the more certain she felt that Mariuscould not have trusted solely to the chance gossip of the SignorPulei to communicate to her his determination.

"It is perfectly inadmissible," she thought. "It is impossible thathe will not make an effort to see me before going."Thoroughly imbued with the idea, she wiped her eyes, took a seatby an open window; and, whilst apparently busy with her work, sheconcentrated her whole attention upon the street.

There were more people out than usual. The recent events hadstirred Paris to its lowest depths, and, as from the crater of avolcano in labor, all the social scoriae rose to the surface. Menof sinister appearance left their haunts, and wandered through thecity. The workshops were all deserted; and people strolled atrandom, stupor or terror painted on their countenance. But in vaindid Mlle. Gilberte seek in all this crowd the one she hoped to see.

The hours went by, and she was getting discouraged, when suddenly,towards dusk, at the corner of the Rue Turenne,"'Tis he," cried a voice within her.

It was, in fact, M. de Tregars. He was walking towards theBoulevard, slowly, and his eyes raised.

Palpitating, the girl rose to her feet. She was in one of thosemoments of crisis when the blood, rushing to the brain, smothersall judgment. Unconscious, as it were, of her acts, she leanedover the window, and made a sign to Marius, which he understood verywell, and which meant, "Wait, I am coming down.""Where are you going, dear?" asked Mme. Favoral, seeing Gilberteputting on her bonnet.

"To the shop, mamma, to get a shade of worsted I need."Mlle. Gilberte was not in the habit of going out alone; but ithappened quite often that she would go down in the neighborhood onsome little errand.

"Do you wish the girl to go out with you?" asked Mme. Favoral.

"Oh, it isn't worth while!"She ran down the stairs; and once out, regardless of the looks thatmight be watching her, she walked straight to M. de Tregars, who waswaiting on the corner of the Rue des Minimes.

"You are going away?" she said, too much agitated to notice his ownemotion, which was, however, quite evident.

"I must," he answered.

"Oh!""When France is invaded, the place for a man who bears my name iswhere the fighting is.""But there will be fighting in Paris too.""Paris has four times as many defenders as it needs. It is outsidethat soldiers will be wanted."They walked slowly, as they spoke thus, along the Rue des Minimes,one of the least frequented in Paris; and there were only to beseen at this hour five or six soldiers talking in front of thebarracks gate.

"Suppose I were to beg you not to go," resumed Mlle. Gilberte.

"Suppose I beseeched you, Marius!""I should remain then," he answered in a troubled voice; "but Iwould be betraying my duty, and failing to my honor; and remorsewould weigh upon our whole life. Command now, and I will obey."They had stopped; and no one seeing them standing there side byside affectionate and familiar could have believed that they werespeaking to each other for the first time. They themselves did notnotice it, so much had they come, with the help of all-powerfulimagination, and in spite of separation, to the understanding ofintimacy. After a moment of painful reflection,"I do not ask you any longer to stay," uttered the young girl.

He took her hand, and raised it to his lips.

"I expected no less of your courage," he said, his voice vibratingwith love. But he controlled himself, and, in a more quiet tone,"Thanks to the indiscretion of Pulei," he added, "I was in hopes ofseeing you, but not to have the happiness of speaking to you. Ihad written "He drew from his pocket a large envelope, and, handing it to Mlle.

Gilberte,"Here is the letter," he continued, "which I intended for you. Itcontains another, which I beg you to preserve carefully, and not toopen unless I do not return. I leave you in Paris a devoted friend,the Count de Villegre. Whatever may happen to you, apply to himwith all confidence, as you would to myself."Mlle. Gilberte, staggering, leaned against the wall.

"When do you expect to leave?" she inquired.

"This very night. Communications may he cut off at any moment."Admirable in her sorrow, but also full of energy, the poor girllooked up, and held out her hand to him.

"Go then," she said, "0 my only friend! go, since honor commands.

But do not forget that it is not your life alone that you are goingto risk."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 questof news.

Those he brought home were of the most sinister kind.

Like the rising tide, the Prussians spread and advanced, slowly,but steadily. Their marches were numbered; and the day and hourcould be named when their flood would come and strike the wallsof Paris.

And so, at all the railroad stations, there was a prodigious rushof people who wished to leave at any, cost, in any way, in thebaggage-car if needs be, and who certainly were not, like Marius,rushing to meet the enemy.

One after another, M. Favoral had seen nearly every one he knewtake flight.

The Baron and Baroness de Thaller and their daughter had gone toSwitzerland; M. Costeclar was traveling in Belgium; the elderJottras was in England, buying guns and cartridge; and if theyounger Jottras, with M. Saint Pavin of "The Financial Pilot,"remained in Paris, it was because, through the gallant influenceof a lady whose name was not mentioned, they had obtained somevaluable contracts from the government.

The perplexities of the cashier of the Mutual Credit were great.

The day that the Baron and the Baroness de Thaller had left,"Pack up our trunks," he ordered his wife. "The bourse is goingto close; and the Mutual Credit can very well get along without me."But the next day he became undecided again. What Mlle. Gilbertethought she could guess, was, that he was dying to start alone, andleave his family, but dared not do it. He hesitated so long, thatat last, one evening,"You may unpack the trunks," he said to his wife. "Paris isinvested; and no one can now leave."
Chapter XVIII
　　In fact, the news had just come, that the Western Railroad, the lastone that had remained open, was now cut off.

Paris was invested; and so rapid had been the investment, that itcould hardly be believed.

People went in crowds on all the culminating points, the hills ofMontmartre, and the heights of the Trocadero. Telescopes had beenerected there; and every one was anxious to scan the horizon, andlook for the Prussians.

But nothing could be discovered. The distant fields retained theirquiet and smiling aspect under the mild rays of the autumn sun.

So that it really required quite an effort of imagination to realizethe sinister fact, to understand that Paris, with its two millionsof inhabitants, was indeed cut off from the world and separated fromthe rest of France, by an insurmountable circle of steel.

Doubt, and something like a vague hope, could be traced in the toneof the people who met on the streets, saying,"Well, it's all over: we can't leave any more. Letters, even,cannot pass. No more news, eh?"But the next day, which was the 19th of September, the mostincredulous were convinced.

For the first time Paris shuddered at the hoarse voice of the cannon,thundering on the heights of Chatillon. The siege of Paris, thatsiege without example in history, had commenced.

The life of the Favorals during these interminable days of anguishand suffering, was that of a hundred thousand other families.

Incorporated in the battalion of his ward, the cashier of the MutualCredit went off two or three times a week, as well as all hisneighbors, to mount guard on the ramparts, - a useless serviceperhaps, but which those that performed it did not look upon as such,- a very arduous service, at any rate, for poor merchants, accustomedto the comforts of their shops, or the quiet of their offices.

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 theground or on dirty straw, in remaining on guard with the thermometertwenty degrees below the freezing-point. But people die of pleurisyquite as certainly as of a Prussian bullet; and many died of it.

Maxence showed himself but rarely at Rue St. Gilles: enlisted in abattalion of sharpshooters, he did duty at the advanced posts. And,as to Mme. Favoral and Mlle. Gilberte, they spent the day trying toget something to live on. Rising before daylight, through rain orsnow, they took their stand before the butcher's stall, and, afterwaiting for hours, received a small slice of horse-meat.

Alone in the evening, by the side of the hearth where a few piecesof green wood smoked without burning, they started at each of thedistant reports of the cannon. At each detonation that shook thewindow-panes, Mme. Favoral thought that it was, perhaps, the onethat had killed her son.

And Mlle. Gilberte was thinking of Marius de Tregars. The accurseddays of November and December had come. There were constant rumorsof bloody battles around Orleans. She imagined Marius, mortallywounded, expiring on the snow, alone, without help, and without afriend to receive his supreme will and his last breath.

One evening the vision was so clear, and the impression so strong,that she started up with a loud cry.

"What is it?" asked Mme. Favoral, alarmed. "What is the matter?"With a little perspicacity, the worthy woman could easily haveobtained her daughter's secret; for Mlle. Gilberte was not incondition to deny anything. But she contented herself with anexplanation which meant nothing, and had not a suspicion, whenthe girl answered with a forced smile,"It's nothing, dear mother, nothing but an absurd idea that crossedmy mind."Strange to say, never had the cashier of the Mutual Credit been forhis family what he was during these months of trials.

During the first weeks of the siege he had been anxious, agitated,nervous; he wandered through the house like a soul in trouble; hehad moments of inconceivable prostration, during which tears couldbe seen rolling down upon his cheeks, and then fits of angerwithout motive.

But each day that elapsed had seemed to bring calm to his soul.

Little by little, he had become to his wife so indulgent and soaffectionate, that the poor helot felt her heart touched. He hadfor his daughter attentions which caused her to wonder.

Often, when the weather was fine, he took them out walking, leadingthem along the quays towards a part of the walls occupied by thebattalion of their ward. Twice he took them to St. Onen, where thesharp-shooters were encamped to which Maxence belonged.

Another day he wished to take them to visit M. de Thaller's house,of which he had charge. They refused, and instead of getting angry,as he certainly would have done formerly, he commenced describing tohem the splendors of the apartments, the magnificent furniture, thecarpets and the hangings, the paintings by the great masters, theobjects of arts, the bronzes, in a word, all that dazzling luxuryof which financiers make use, somewhat as hunters do of the mirrorwith which larks are caught.

Of business, nothing was ever said.

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. Once in a longwhile, M. Saint Pavin and the younger Jottras paid a visit to theRue St. Gilles. They had suspended, - the one the payments of hisbanking house; the other, the publication of "The Financial Pilot."But they were not idle for all that; and, in the midst of the publicdistress, they still managed to speculate upon something, no oneknew what, and to realize profits.

They rallied pleasantly the fools who had faith in the defence, andimitated in the most laughable manner the appearance, under theirsoldier's coat, of three or four of their friends who had joinedthe marching battalions. They boasted that they had no privationsto endure, and always knew where to find the fresh butter wherewithto dress the large slices of beef which they possessed the art offinding. Mme. Favoral heard them laugh; and M. Saint Pavin, themanager of " The Financial Pilot," exclaimed,"Come, come! we would be fools to complain. It is a generalliquidation, without risks and without costs." Their mirth hadsomething revolting in it; for it was now the last and most acuteperiod of the siege.

At the beginning. the greatest optimists hardly thought that Pariscould hold out longer than six weeks. And now the investment hadlasted over four months. The population was reduced to namelessarticles of food. The supply of bread had failed; the wounded, forlack of a little soup, died in the ambulances; old people andchildren perished by the hundred; on the left bank the shells camedown thick and fast, the weather was intensely cold, and there wasno more fuel.

And yet no one complained. From the midst of that population oftwo millions of inhabitants, not one voice rose to beg for theircomfort, their health, their life even, at the cost of acapitulation.

Clear-sighted men had never hoped that Paris alone could compelthe raising of the siege; but they thought, that by holding out,and keeping the Prussians under its walls, Paris would give toFrance time to rise, to organize armies, and to rush upon the enemy.

There was the duty of Paris; and Paris was toiling to fulfil it tothe utmost limits of possibility, reckoning as a victory each daythat it gained.

Unfortunately, all this suffering was to be in vain. The fatalhour struck, when, supplies being exhausted, it became necessaryto surrender. During three days the Prussians camped in the ChampsElysees, gazing with longing eyes upon that city, object of theirmost eager desires, - that Paris within which, victorious thoughthey were, they had not dared to venture. Then, soon after,communications were reopened; and one morning, as he received aletter from Switzerland,"It is from the Baron de Thaller!" exclaimed M. Favoral.

Exactly so. The manager of the Mutual Credit was a prudent man.

Pleasantly situated in Switzerland, he was in nowise anxious toreturn to Paris before being quite certain that he had no risksto run.

Upon receiving M. Favoral's assurances to that effect, he started;and, almost at the same time the elder Jottras and M. Costeclarmade their appearance.
Chapter XIX
　　It was a curious spectacle, the return of those braves for whomParisian slang had invented the new and significant expression offranc-fileur.

They were not so proud then as they have been since. Feeling ratherembarrassed in the midst of a population still quivering with theemotions of the siege, they had at least the good taste to try andfind pretexts for their absence.

"I was cut off," affirmed the Baron de Thaller. "I had gone toSwitzerland to place my wife and daughter in safety. When I cameback, good-by! the Prussians had closed the doors. For more thana week, I wandered around Paris, trying to find an opening. Ibecame suspected of being a spy. I was arrested. A little more,and I was shot dead!""As to myself," declared M. Costeclar, "I foresaw exactly what hashappened. I knew that it was outside, to organize armies of relief,that men would be wanted. I went to offer my services to thegovernment of defence; and everybody in Bordeaux saw me booted andspurred, and ready to leave."He was consequently soliciting the Cross of the Legion of Honor,and was not without hopes of obtaining it through the all-powerfulinfluence of his financial connections.

"Didn't So-and-so get it?" he replied to objections. And he namedthis or that individual whose feats of arms consisted principallyin having exhibited themselves in uniforms covered with gold laceto the very shoulders.

"But I am the man who deserves it most, that cross," insisted theyounger M. Jottras; "for I, at least, have rendered valuableservices."And he went on telling how, after searching for arms all overEngland, he had sailed for New York, where he had purchased anynumber of guns and cartridges, and even some batteries of artillery.

This last journey had been very wearisome to him, he added and yethe did not regret it; for it had furnished him an opportunity tostudy on the spot the financial morals of America; and he hadreturned with ideas enough to make the fortune of three or fourstock companies with twenty millions of capital.

"Ah, those Americans!" he exclaimed. "They are the men whounderstand business! We are but children by the side of them."It was through M. Chapelain, the Desciavettes, and old Desormeaux,that these news reached the Rue St. Gilles.

It was also through Maxence, whose battalion had been dissolved,and who, whilst waiting for something better, had accepted aclerkship in the office of the Orleans Railway, where he earnedtwo hundred francs a month. For M. Favoral saw and heard nothingthat was going on around him. He was wholly absorbed in hisbusiness: he left earlier, came home later, and hardly allowedhimself time to eat and drink.

He told all his friends that business was looking up again in themost unexpected manner; that there were fortunes to be made bythose who could command ready cash; and that it was necessary tomake up for lost time.

He pretended that the enormous indemnity to be paid to the Prussianswould necessitate an enormous movement of capital, financialcombinations, a loan, and that so many millions could not be handledwithout allowing a few little millions to fall into intelligentpockets.

Dazzled by the mere enumeration of those fabulous sums, "I shouldnot be a bit surprised," said the others, "to see Favoral doubleand treble his fortune. What a famous match his daughter will be!"Alas! never had Mlle. Gilberte felt in her heart so much hatredand disgust for that money, the only thought, the sole subject ofconversation, of those around her, - for that cursed money whichhad risen like an insurmountable obstacle between Marius andherself.

For two weeks past, the communications had been completely restored;and there was as yet no sign of M. de Tregars. It was with the mostviolent palpitations of her heart that she awaited each day the hourof the Signor Gismondo Pulei's lesson: and more painful each timebecame her anguish when she heard him exclaim,"Nothing, not a line, not a word. The pupil has forgotten his oldmaster!"But Mlle. Gilberte knew well that Marius did not forget. Her bloodfroze in her veins when she read in the papers the interminablelist of those poor soldiers who had succumbed during the invasion,- the more fortunate ones under Prussian bullets; the others alongthe roads, in the mud or in the snow, of cold, of fatigue, ofsuffering and of want.

She could not drive from her mind the memory of that lugubriousvision which had so much frightened her; and she was asking herselfwhether it was not one of those inexplicable presentiments, ofwhich there are examples, which announce the death of a belovedperson.

Alone at night in her little room, Mlle. Gilberte withdrew from thehiding-place, where she kept it preciously, that package whichMarius had confided to her, recommending her not to open it untilshe was sure that he would not return. It was very voluminous,enclosed in an envelope of thick paper, sealed with red wax, bearingthe arms of Tregars; and she had often wondered what it couldpossibly contain. And now she shuddered at the thought that shehad perhaps the right to open it.

And she had no one of whom she could ask for a word of hope. Shewas compelled to hide her tears, and to put on a smile. She wascompelled to invent pretexts for those who expressed their wonderat seeing her exquisite beauty withering in the bud,- for hermother, whose anxiety was without limit, when she saw her thus pale,her eyes inflamed, and undermined by a continuous fever.

True, Marius, on leaving, had left her a friend, the Count deVillegre; and, if any one knew any thing, he certainly did. Butshe could see no way of hearing from him without risking her secret.

Write to him? Nothing was easier, since she had his address, - RueTurenne. But where could she ask him to direct his answer? Rue St.

Gilles? Impossible! True, she might go to him, or make anappointment in the neighborhood. But how could she escape, evenfor an hour, without exciting Mme. Favoral's suspicions?

Sometimes it occurred to her to confide in Maxence, who was laboringwith admirable constancy to redeem his past.

But what! must she, then, confess the truth, - confess that she,Gilberte, had lent her ears to the words of a stranger, met bychance in the street, and that she looked forward to no happinessin life save through him? She dared not. She could not take uponherself to overcome the shame of such a situation.

She was on the verge of despair, the day when the Signor Puleiarrived radiant, exclaiming from the very threshold, "I have news!"And at once, without surprise at the awful emotion of the girl,which he attributed solely to the interest she felt for him, - himGismondo Pulei, he went on,- "I did not get them direct, but througha respectable signor with long mustaches, and a red ribbon at hisbuttonhole, who, having received a letter from my dear pupil, hasdeigned to come to my room, and read it to me."The worthy maestro had not forgotten a single word of that letter;and it was almost literally that he repeated it.

Six weeks after having enlisted, his pupil had been promotedcorporal, then sergeant, then lieutenant. He had fought in allthe battles of the army of the Loire without receiving a scratch.

But at the battle of the Maus, whilst leading back his men, whowere giving way, he had been shot twice, full in the breast.

Carried dying into an ambulance, he had lingered three weeksbetween life and death, having lost all consciousness of self.

Twenty-four hours after, he had recovered his senses; and he tookthe first opportunity to recall himself to the affection of hisfriends. All danger was over, he suffered scarcely any more; andthey promised him, that, within a month, he would be up, and ableto return to Paris.

For the first time in many weeks Mlle. Gilberte breathed freely.

But she would have been greatly surprised, had she been told thata day was drawing near when she would bless those wounds whichdetained Marius upon a hospital cot. And yet it was so.

Mme. Favoral and her daughter were alone, one evening, at the house,when loud clamors arose from the 'street, in the midst of whichcould be heard drunken voices yelling the refrains of revolutionarysongs, accompanied by continuous rumbling sounds. They ran to thewindow. The National Guards had just taken possession of the cannondeposited in the Place Royale. The reign of the Commune wascommencing.

In less than forty-eight hours, people came to regret the worst daysof the siege. Without leaders, without direction, the honest menhad lost their heads. All the braves who had returned at the timeof the armistice had again taken flight. Soon people had to hideor to fly to avoid being incorporated in the battalions of theCommune. Night and day, around the walls, the fusillade rattled,and the artillery thundered.

Again M. Favoral had given up going to his office. What's the use?

Sometimes, with a singular look, he would say to his wife andchildren,"This time it is indeed a liquidation. Paris is lost!"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 themidst of the night they saw their apartment as brilliantly lightedas at mid-day by the flames which were consuming the Hotel de Villeand the houses around the Place de la Bastille. And, in fact, therapid action of the troops alone saved Paris from destruction.

But towards the end of the following week, matters had commenced toquiet down; and Gilberte learned the return of Marius.
Chapter XX
　　"At last it has been given to my eyes to contemplate him, and to myarms to press him against my heart!"It was in these terms that the old Italian master, all vibratingwith enthusiasm, and with his most terrible accent, announced toMlle. Gilberte that he had just seen that famous pupil from whom heexpected both glory and fortune.

"But how weak he is still!" he added, "and suffering from his wounds.

I hardly recognized him, he has grown so pale and so thin."But the girl was listening to him no more. A flood of life filledher heart. This moment made her forget all her troubles and allher anguish.

"And I too," thought she, "shall see him again to-day."And, with the unerring instinct of the woman who loves, shecalculated the moment when Marius would appear in Rue St. Gilles.

It would probably be about nightfall, like the first time, beforeleaving; that is, about eight o'clock, for the days just then wereabout the longest in the year. Now it so happened, that, on thatvery day and hour, Mlle. Gilberte expected to be alone at home.

It was understood that her mother would, after dinner, call onMme. Desclavettes, who was in bed, half dead of the fright she hadhad during the last convulsions of the Commune. She would thereforebe free and would not need to invent a pretext to go out for a fewmoments. She could not help, however, but feel that this was abold and most venturesome step for her to take; and, when her motherwent out, she had not yet fully decided what to do. But her bonnetwas within reach, and Marius' letter was in her pocket. She wentto sit at the window. The street was solitary and silent as ofold. Night was coming; and heavy black clouds floated over Paris.

The heat was overpowering: there was not a breath of air.

One by one, as the hour was approaching when she expected to seeMarius, the hesitations of the young girl vanished like smoke. Shefeared but one thing, - that he would not come, or that he mayalready have come and left, without succeeding in seeing her.

Already did the objects become less distinct; and the gas was beinglit in the back-shops, when she recognized him on the other side ofthe street. He looked up as he went by; and, without stopping, headdressed her a rapid gesture, which she alone could understand, andwhich meant, "Come, I beseech you!"Her heart beating loud enough to be heard, Mlle. Gilberte ran downthe stairs. But it was only When she found herself in the streetthat she could appreciate the magnitude of the risk she was running.

Concierges and shopkeepers were all sitting in front of their doors,taking the fresh air. All knew her. Would they not be surprisedto see her out alone at such an hour? Twenty steps in front of hershe could see Marius. But he had understood the danger; for,instead of turning the corner of the Rue des Minimes, he followedthe Rue St. Gilles straight, and only stopped on the other side ofthe Boulevard.

Then only did Mlle. Gilberte join him; and she could not withholdan exclamation, when she saw that he was as pale as death, andscarcely able to stand and to walk.

"How imprudent of you to have returned so soon!" she said.

A little blood came to M. de Tregars' cheeks. His face brightenedup, and, in a voice quivering with suppressed passion,"It would have been more imprudent still to stay away," he uttered.

"Far from you, I felt myself dying."They were both leaning against the door of a closed shop; and theywere as alone in the midst of the throng that circulated on theBoulevards, busy looking at the fearful wrecks of the Commune.

"And besides," added Marius, "have I, then, a minute to lose? Iasked you for three years. Fifteen months have gone, and I am nobetter off than on the first day. When this accursed war broke out,all my arrangements were made. I was certain to rapidly accumulatea sufficient fortune to enable me to ask for your hand without beingrefused. Whereas now""Well?""Now every thing is changed. The future is so uncertain, that noone wishes to venture their capital. Marcolet himself, who certainlydoes not lack boldness, and who believes firmly in the success of ourenterprise, was telling me yesterday, 'There is nothing to be donejust now: we must wait.'"There was in his voice such an intensity of grief, that the girlfelt the tears coming to her eyes.

"We will wait then," she said, attempting to smile.

But M. de Tregars shook his head.

"Is it possible?" he said. "Do you, then, think that I do not knowwhat a life you lead?"Mlle. Gilberte looked up.

"Have I ever complained?" she asked proudly?

"No. Your mother and yourself, you have always religiously kept thesecret of your tortures; and it was only a providential accidentthat revealed them to me. But I learned every thing at last. I knowthat she whom I love exclusively and with all the power of my soul issubjected to the most odious despotism, insulted, and condemned tothe most humiliating privations. And I, who would give my life forher a thousand times over, - I can do nothing for her. Money raisesbetween us such an insuperable obstacle, that my love is actually anoffence. To hear from her, I am driven to accept accomplices. If Iobtain from her a few moments of conversation, I run the risk ofcompromising her maidenly reputation."Deeply affected by his emotion:

"At least," said Mlle. Gilberte, "you succeeded in delivering mefrom M. Costeclar.""Yes, I was fortunately able to find weapons against that scoundrel.

But can I find some against all others that may offer? Your fatheris very rich; and the men are numerous for whom marriage is but aspeculation like any other.""Would you doubt me?""Ah, rather would I doubt myself! But I know what cruel trials yourrefusal to marry M. Costeclar imposed upon you: I know what amerciless struggle you had to sustain. Another pretender may come,and then - No, no, you see that we cannot wait.""What would you do?""I know not. I have not yet decided upon my future course. And yetHeaven knows what have been the labors of my mind during that longmonth I have just spent upon an ambulance-bed, that month duringwhich you were my only thought. Ah! when I think of it, I cannotfind words to curse the recklessness with which I disposed of myfortune."As if she had heard a blasphemy, the young girl drew back a step.

"It is impossible," she exclaimed, "that you should regret havingpaid what your father owed."A bitter smile contracted M. de Tregars' lips.

"And suppose I were to tell you," he replied, "that my father inreality owed nothing?""Oh!""Suppose I told you they took from him his entire fortune, over twomillions, as audaciously as a pick-pocket robs a man of hishandkerchief? Suppose I told you, that, in his loyal simplicity,he was but a man of straw in the hands of skillful knaves? Have youforgotten what you once heard the Count de Villegre say?"Mlle. Gilberte had forgotten nothing.

"The Count de Villegre," she replied, "pretended that it was timeenough still to compel the men who had robbed your father todisgorge.""Exactly!" exclaimed Marius. "And now I am determined to make themdisgorge."In the mean time night had quite come. Lights appeared in theshop-windows; and along the line of the Boulevard the gas-lamps werebeing lit. Alarmed by this sudden illumination, M. de Tregars drewoff Mlle. Gilberte to a more obscure spot, by the stairs that leadto the Rue Amelot; and there, leaning against the iron railing, hewent on,"Already, at the time of my father's death, I suspected theabominable tricks of which he was the victim. I thought it unworthyof me to verify my suspicions. I was alone in the world: my wantswere few. I was fully convinced that my researches would give me,within a brief time, a much larger fortune than the one I gave up.

I found something noble and grand, and which flattered my vanity,in thus abandoning every thing, without discussion, withoutlitigation, and consummating my ruin with a single dash of my pen.

Among my friends the Count de Villegre alone had the courage to tellme that this was a guilty piece of folly; that the silence of thedupes is the strength of the knaves; that my indifference, whichmade the rascals rich, would make them laugh too. I replied that Idid not wish to see the name of Tregars dragged into court in ascandalous law-suit, and that to preserve a dignified silence wasto honor my father's memory. Treble fool that I was! The only wayto honor my father's memory was to avenge him, to wrest his spoilsfrom the scoundrels who had caused his death. I see it clearlyto-day. But, before undertaking any thing, I wished to consult you."Mlle. Gilberte was listening with the most intense attention. Shehad come to mingle so completely in her thoughts her future life andthat of M. de Tregars, that she saw nothing unusual in the fact ofhis consulting her upon matters affecting their prospects, and ofseeing herself standing there deliberating with him.

"You will require proofs," she suggested.

"I have none, unfortunately," replied M. de Tregars; "at least, nonesufficiently positive, and such as are required by courts of justice.

But I think I may find them. My former suspicions have become acertainty. The same good luck that enabled me to deliver you of M.

Costeclar's persecutions, also placed in my hands the most valuableinformation.""Then you must act," uttered Mlle. Gilberte resolutely.

Marius hesitated for a moment, as if seeking expression to conveywhat he had still to say. Then,"It is my duty," he proceeded, "to conceal nothing from you. Thetask is a heavy one. The obscure schemers of ten years ago havebecome big financiers, intrenched behind their money-bags as behindan impregnable fort. Formerly isolated, they have managed to gatheraround them powerful interests, accomplices high in office, andfriends whose commanding situation protects them. Having succeeded,they are absolved. They have in their favor what is called publicconsideration,-that idiotic thing which is made up of the admirationof the fools, the approbation of the knaves, and the concert of allinterested vanities. When they pass, their horses at full trot,their carriage raising a cloud of dust, insolent, impudent, swelledwith the vulgar fatuity of wealth, people bow to the ground, and say,'Those are smart fellows!' And in fact, yes, skill or luck, theyhave hitherto avoided the police-courts where so many others havecome to grief. Those who despise them fear them) and shake handswith them. Moreover, they are rich enough not to steal any morethemselves. They have employes to do that. I take Heaven to witnessthat never until lately had the idea come to me to disturb in theirpossession the men who robbed my father. Alone, what need had I ofmoney? Later, 0 my friend! I thought I could succeed in conqueringthe fortune I needed to obtain your hand. You had promised to wait;and I was happy to think that I should owe you to my sole exertions.

Events have crushed my hopes. I am to-day compelled to acknowledgethat all my efforts would be in vain. To wait would be to run therisk of losing you. Therefore I hesitate no longer. I want what'smine: I wish to recover that of which I have been robbed. WhateverI may do, - for, alas! I know not to what I may be driven, whatrole I may have to play, - remember that of all my acts, of all mythoughts, there will not be a single one that does not aim to bringnearer the blessed day when you shall become my wife."There was in his voice so much unspeakable affection, that the younggirl could hardly restrain her tears.

"Never, whatever may happen, shall I doubt you, Marius," she uttered.

He took her hands, and, pressing them passionately within his,"And I," he exclaimed, "I swear, that, sustained by the thought ofyou, there is no disgust that I will not overcome, no obstacle thatI will not overthrow."He spoke so loud, that two or three persons stopped. He noticed it,and was brought suddenly from sentiment to the reality,"Wretches that we are," he said in a low voice, and very fast, "weforget what this interview may cost us!

And he led Mlle. Gilberte across the Boulevard; and, whilst makingtheir way to the Rue St. Gilles, through the deserted streets,"It is a dreadful imprudence we have just committed," resumed M. deTregars. "But it was indispensable that we should see each other;and we had not the choice of means. Now, and for a long time, weshall be separated. Every thing you wish me to know, - say it tothat worthy Gismondo, who repeats faithfully to me every word youutter. Through him, also, you shall hear from me. 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 returnhome fired with fresh energy. Should any thing extraordinaryhappen, beckon to me, and I'll wait for you in the Rue des Minimes.

But this is an expedient to which we must only resort in the lastextremity. I should never forgive myself, were I to compromise yourfair name."They had reached the Rue St. Gilles. Marius stopped.

"We must part," he began.

But then only Mlle. Gilberte remembered M. de Tregars' letter, whichshe had in her pocket. Taking it out, and handing it to him,"Here," she said, "is the package you deposited with me.""No," he answered, repelling her gently, "keep that letter: it mustnever be opened now, except by the Marquise de Tregars."And raising her hand to his lips, and in a deeply agitated voice,"Farewell!" he murmured. "Have courage, and have hope."
Chapter XXI
        Mlle. Gilberte was soon far away; and Marius de Tregars remainedmotionless at the corner of the street, following her with his eyesthrough the darkness.

She was walking fast, staggering over the rough pavement. LeavingMarius, she fell back upon the earth from the height of her dreams.

The deceiving illusion had vanished, and, returned to the world ofsad reality, she was seized with anxiety.

How long had she been out? She knew not, and found it impossibleto reckon. But it was evidently getting late; for some of the shopswere already closing.

Meantime, she had reached the house. Stepping back, and looking up,she saw that there was light in the parlor.

"Mother has returned," she thought, trembling with apprehension.

She hurried up, nevertheless; and, just as she reached the landing,Mme. Favoral opened the door, preparing to go down.

"At last you are restored to me!" exclaimed the poor mother, whosesinister apprehensions were revealed by that single exclamation. "Iwas going out to look for you at random, - in the streets, anywhere."And, drawing her daughter within the parlor, she clasped her in herarms with convulsive tenderness, exclaiming,"Where were you? Where do you come from? Do you know that it isafter nine o'clock?"Such had been Mlle. Gilberte's state of mind during the whole ofthat evening, that she had not even thought of finding a pretextto justify her absence. Now it was too late. Besides, whatexplanation would have been plausible? Instead, therefore, ofanswering,"Why, dear mother," she said with a forced smile, "has it nothappened to me twenty times to go out in the neighborhood?"But Mme. Favoral's confiding credulity existed no longer.

"I have been blind, Gilberte," she interrupted; "but this time myeyes must open to evidence. There is in your life a mystery,something extraordinary, which I dare not try to guess."Mlle. Gilberte drew herself up, and, looking her mother straight inthe eyes, with her beautiful, clear glance,"Would you suspect me of something wrong, then?" she exclaimed.

Mme. Favoral stopped her with a gesture.

"A young girl who conceals something from her mother always doeswrong," she uttered. "It is a long while since I have had for thefirst time the presentiment that you were hiding something from me.

But, when I questioned you, you succeeded in quieting my suspicions.

You have abused my confidence and my weakness."This reproach was the most cruel that could be addressed to Mlle.

Gilberte. The blood rushed to her face, and, in a firm voice,"Well, yes," said she: "I have a secret.""Dear me!""And, if I did not confide it to you, it is because it is also thesecret of another. Yes, I confess it, I have been imprudent in theextreme; I have stepped beyond all the limits of propriety and socialcustom; I have exposed myself to the worst calumnies. But never, - Iswear it, - never have I done any thing of which my conscience canreproach me, nothing that I have to blush for, nothing that I regret,nothing that I am not ready to do again to-tomorrow.""I said nothing, 'tis true; but it was my duty. Alone I had tosuffer the responsibility of my acts. Having alone freely engagedmy future, I wished to bear alone the weight of my anxiety. I shouldnever have forgiven myself for having added this new care to all yourother sorrows."Mme. Favoral stood dismayed. Big tears rolled down her witheredcheeks.

"Don't you see, then," she stammered, "that all my past suffering isas nothing compared to what I endure to-day? Good heavens! what haveI ever done to deserve so many trials? Am I to be spared none of thetroubles of this world? And it is through my own daughter that I amthe most cruelly stricken!"This was more than Mlle. Gilberte could bear. Her heart was breakingat the sight of her mother's tears, that angel of meekness andresignation. Throwing her arms around her neck, and kissing her onthe eyes,"Mother," she murmured, "adored mother, I beg of you do not weepthus! Speak to me! What do you wish me to do?"Gently the poor woman drew back.

"Tell me the truth," she answered.

Was it not certain that this was the very, thing she would ask; infact, the only thing she could ask? Ah! how much would the younggirl have preferred one of her father's violent scenes, andbrutalities which would have exalted her energy, instead ofcrushing it!

Attempting to gain time,"Well, yes," she answered," I'll tell you every thing, mother, butnot now, to-morrow, later."She was about to yield, however, when her father's arrival cutshort their conversation.

The cashier of the Mutual Credit was quite lively that night. Hewas humming a tune, a thing which did not happen to him four timesa year, and which was indicative of the most extreme satisfaction.

But he stopped short at the sight of the disturbed countenance of hiswife and daughter.

"What is the matter?" he inquired.

"Nothing," hastily answered Mlle. Gilberte, - "nothing at all,father.""Then you are crying for your amusement," he said. "Come, be candidfor once, and confess that Maxence has been at his tricks again!

"You are mistaken, father: I swear it!

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 deprivedhim of all right to their confidence.

"Very well, then," he said in a gruff tone, "let us all go to bed.

I have worked so hard to-day, that I am quite exhausted. Peoplewho pretend that business is dull make me laugh. Never has M. deThaller been in the way of making so much money as now."When he spoke, they obeyed. So that Mlle. Gilberte was thus goingto have the whole night before her to resume possession of herself,to pass over in her mind the events of the evening, and deliberatecoolly upon the decision she must come to; for, she could not doubtit, Mme. Favoral would, the very next day, renew her questions.

What should she say? All? Mlle. Gilberte felt disposed to do soby all the aspirations of her heart, by the certainty of indulgentcomplicity, by the thought of finding in a sympathetic soul the echoof her joys, of her troubles, and of her hopes.

Yes. But Mme. Favoral was still the same woman, whose firmestresolutions vanished under the gaze of her husband. Let a pretendercome; let a struggle begin, as in the case of M. Costeclar, - wouldshe have strength enough to remain silent? No!

Then it would be a fearful scene with M. Favoral. He might,perhaps, even go to M. de Tregars. What scandal! For he was a manwho spared no one; and then a new obstacle would rise between them,more insurmountable still than the others.

Mlle. Gilberte was thinking, too, of Marius's projects; of thatterrible game he was about to play, the issue of which was to decidetheir fate. He had said enough to make her understand all itsperils, and that a single indiscretion might suffice to set atnought the result of many months' labor and patience. Besides, tospeak, was it not to abuse Marius's confidence. How could sheexpect another to keep a secret she had been unable to keep herself?

At last, after protracted and painful hesitation, she decided thatshe was bound to silence, and that she would only vouchsafe thevaguest explanations.

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's lips. To her passionateadjurations, to her tears, to her ruses even, Mlle. Gilberteinvariably opposed equivocal answers, a story through which nothingcould be guessed, save one of those childish romances which stopat the preface, - a schoolgirl love for a chimerical hero.

There was nothing in this very reassuring to a mother; but Mme.

Favoral knew her daughter too well to hope to conquer her invincibleobstinacy. She insisted no more, appeared convinced, but resolvedto exercise the utmost vigilance. In vain, however, did she displayall the penetration of which she was capable. The severestattention did not reveal to her a single suspicious fact, not acircumstance from which she could draw an induction, until, at last,she thought that she must have been mistaken.

The fact is, that Mlle. Gilberte had not been long in feelingherself watched; and she observed herself with a tenaciouscircumspection that could hardly have been expected of her resoluteand impatient nature. She had trained herself to a sort of cheerfulcarelessness, to which she strictly adhered, watching everyexpression of her countenance, and avoiding carefully those hoursof vague revery in which she formerly indulged.

For two successive weeks, fearing to be betrayed by her looks, shehad the courage not to show herself at the window at the hour whenshe knew Marius would pass. Moreover, she was very minutelyinformed of the alternatives of the campaign undertaken by M. deTregars.

More enthusiastic than ever about his pupil, the Signor GismondoPulei never tired of singing his praise, and with such pomp ofexpression, and so curious an exuberance of gesticulation, that Mme.

Favoral was much amused; and, on the days when she was present ather daughter's lesson, she was the first to inquire,"Well, how is that famous pupil?"And, according to what Marius had, told him,"He is swimming in the purest satisfaction," answered the candidmaestro. "Every thing succeeds miraculously well, and much beyondhis hopes."Or else, knitting his brows-"He was sad yesterday," he said, "owing to an unexpecteddisappointment; but he does not lose courage. We shall succeed."The young girl could not help smiling to see her mother assistingthus the unconscious complicity of the Signor Gismondo. Then shereproached herself for having smiled, and for having thus come,through a gradual and fatal descent, to laugh at a duplicity atwhich she would have blushed in former times. In spite of herself,however, she took a passionate interest in the game that was beingplayed between her mother and herself, and of which her secret wasthe stake. It was an ever-palpitating interest in her hithertomonotonous life, and a source of constantly-renewed emotions.

The days became weeks, and the weeks months; and Mme. Favoralrelaxed her useless surveillance, and, little by little, gave itup almost entirely. She still thought, that, at a certain moment,something unusual had occurred to her daughter; but she feltpersuaded, that, whatever that was, it had been forgotten.

So that, on the stated days, Mlle. Gilberte could go and lean uponthe window, without fear of being called to account for the emotionwhich she felt when M. de Tregars appeared. At the expected hour,invariably, and with a punctuality to shame M. Favoral himself, heturned the corner of the Rue Turenne, exchanged a rapid glance withthe young girl, and passed on.

His health was completely restored; and with it he had recoveredthat graceful virility which results from the perfect blending ofsuppleness and strength. But he no longer wore the plain garmentsof former days. He was dressed now with that elegant simplicitywhich reveals at first sight that rarest of objects, - a "perfectgentleman." And, whilst she accompanied him with her eyes as hewalked towards the Boulevard, she felt thoughts of joy and priderising from the bottom of her soul.

"Who would ever imagine," thought she, "that this young gentlemanwalking away yonder is my affianced husband, and that the day isperhaps not far, when, having become his wife, I shall lean uponhis arm? Who would think that all my thoughts belong to him, thatit is for my sake that he has given up the ambition of his life,and is now prosecuting another object? Who would suspect that itis for Gilberte Favoral's sake that the Marquis de Tregars iswalking in the Rue St. Gilles?"And, indeed, Marius did deserve some credit for these walks; forwinter had come, spreading a thick coat of mud over the pavementof all those little streets which are always forgotten by thestreet-cleaners.

The cashier's home had resumed its habits of before the war, itsdrowsy monotony scarcely disturbed by the Saturday dinner, by M.

Desclavette's naivetes or old Desormeaux's puns.

Maxence, in the mean time, had ceased to live with his parents. Hehad returned to Paris immediately after the Commune; and, feeling nolonger in the humor to submit to the paternal despotism, he hadtaken a small apartment on the Boulevard du Temple; but, at thepressing instance, of his mother, he had consented to come everynight to dine at the Rue St. Gilles.

Faithful to his oath, he was working hard, though without gettingon very fast. The moment was far from propitious; and the occasion,which he had so often allowed to escape, did not offer itself again.

For lack of any thing better, he had kept his clerkship at therailway; and, as two hundred francs a month were not quite sufficientfor his wants, he spent a portion of his nights copying documentsfor M. Chapelain's successor.

"What do you need so much money for?" his mother said to him whenshe noticed his eyes a little red.

"Every thing is so dear!" he answered with a smile, which wasequivalent to a confidence, and yet which Mme. Favoral did notunderstand.

He had, nevertheless, managed to pay all his debts, little bylittle. The day when, at last, he held in his hand the lastreceipted bill, he showed it proudly to his father, begging him tofind him a place at the Mutual Credit, where, with infinitely lesstrouble, he could earn so much more.

M. Favoral commenced to giggle.

"Do you take me for a fool, like your mother?" he exclaimed. "Anddo you think I don't know what life you lead?"My life is that of a poor devil who works as hard as he can.""Indeed! How is it, then, that women are constantly seen at yourhouse, whose dresses and manners are a scandal in the neighborhood?""You have been deceived, father.""I have seen.""It is impossible. Let me explain."No, you would have your trouble for nothing. You are, and you willever remain, the same; and it would be folly on my part to introduceinto an office where I enjoy the esteem of all, a fellow, who, someday or other, will be fatally dragged into the mud by some lostcreature."Such discussions were not calculated to make the relations betweenfather and son more cordial. Several times M. Favoral hadinsinuated, that, since Maxence lodged away from home, he might aswell dine away too. And he would evidently have notified him todo so, had he not been prevented by a remnant of human respect,and the fear of gossip.

On the other hand, the bitter regret of having, perhaps, spoiledhis life, the uncertainty of the future, the penury of the moment,all the unsatisfied desires of youth, kept Maxence in a state ofperpetual irritation.

The excellent Mme. Favoral exhausted all her arguments to quiet him.

"Your father is harsh for us," she said; "but is he less harsh forhimself? He forgives nothing; but he has never needed to beforgiven himself. He does not understand youth, but he has neverbeen young himself; and at twenty he was as grave and as cold asyou see him now. How could he know what pleasure is? - he to whomthe idea has never come to take an hour's enjoyment.""Have I, then, been guilty of any crimes, to be thus treated by myfather?" exclaimed Maxence, flushed with anger. "Our existence hereis an unheard-of thing. You, poor, dear mother! - you have neverhad the free disposition of a five-franc-piece. Gilberte spendsher days turning her dresses, after having had them dyed. I amdriven to a petty clerkship. And my father has fifty thousandfrancs a year!"Such, indeed, was the figure at which the most moderate estimatedM. Favoral's fortune. M. Chapelain, who was supposed to be wellinformed, insinuated freely that his friend Vincent, besides beingthe cashier of the Mutual Credit, must also be one of its principalstock-holders. Now, judging from the dividend which had just beenpaid, the Mutual Credit must, since the war, have realized enormousprofits. All its enterprises were successful; and it was on thepoint of negotiating a foreign loan which would infallibly fill itsexchequer to overflowing.

M. FAVORAL, moreover, defended himself feebly from these accusationsof concealed opulence. When M. Desormeaux told him, "Come, now,between us, candidly, how many millions have you?" he had such astrange way of affirming that people were very much mistaken, thathis friends' convictions became only the more settled. And, assoon as they had a few thousand francs of savings, they promptlybrought them to him, imitated in this by a goodly number of thesmall capitalists of the neighborhood, who were wont to remarkamong themselves,"That man is safer than the bank!"Millionaire or otherwise, the cashier of the Mutual Credit becamedaily more difficult to live with. If strangers, those who hadwith him but a superficial intercourse, if the Saturday gueststhemselves, discovered in him no appreciable change, his wife andhis children followed with anxious surprise the modifications ofhis humor.

If outwardly he still appeared the same impassible, precise, andgrave man, he showed himself at home more fretful than an old maid,- nervous, agitated, and subject to the oddest whims. Afterremaining three or four days without opening his lips, he wouldbegin to speak upon all sorts of subjects with amazing volubility.

Instead of watering his wine freely, as formerly, he had begun todrink it pure; and he often took two bottles at his meal, excusinghimself upon the necessity that he felt the need of stimulatinghimself a little after his excessive labors.

Then he would be taken with fits of coarse gayety; and he relatedsingular anecdotes, intermingled with slang expressions, whichMaxence alone could understand.

On the morning of the first day of January, 1872, as he sat downto breakfast, he threw upon the table a roll of fifty napoleons,saying to his children,"Here is your New Year's gift! Divide, and buy anything you like."And as they were looking at him, staring, stupid with astonishment,"Well, what of it?" he added with an oath. "Isn't it well, once ina while, to scatter the coins a little?"Those unexpected thousand francs Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte appliedto the purchase of a shawl, which their mother had wished forten years.

She laughed and she cried with pleasure and emotion, the poor woman;and, whilst draping it over her shoulders,"Well, well, my dear children," she said: "your father, after all,is not such a bad man."Of which they did not seem very well convinced. "One thing is sure,"remarked Mlle. Gilberte: "to permit himself such liberality, papamust be awfully rich."M. FAVORAL was not present at this scene. The yearly accounts kepthim so closely confined to his office, that he remained forty-eighthours without coming home. A journey which he was compelled toundertake for M. de Thaller consumed the balance of the week.

But on his return he seemed satisfied and quiet. Without giving uphis situation at the Mutual Credit, he was about, he stated, toassociate himself with the Messrs. Jottras, M. Saint Pavin of"The Financial Pilot," and M. Costeclar, to undertake theconstruction of a foreign railway.

M. Costeclar was at the head of this enterprise, the enormousprofits of which were so certain and so clear; that they could befigured in advance.

And whilst on this same subject,"You were very wrong," he said to Mlle. Gilberte, "not to make hasteand marry Costeclar when he was willing to have you. You will neverfind another such match, - a man who, before ten years, will be afinancial power."The very name of M. Costeclar had the effect of irritating the younggirl.

"I thought you had fallen out?" she said to her father.

"So we had," he replied with some embarrassment, "because he hasnever been willing to tell me why he had withdrawn; but peoplealways make up again when they have interests in common."Formerly, before the war, M. Favoral would certainly never havecondescended to enter into all these details. But he was becomingalmost communicative. Mile. Gilberte, who was observing him withinterested attention, fancied she could see that he was yieldingto that necessity of expansion, more powerful than the will itself,which besets the man who carries within him a weighty secret.

Whilst for twenty years he had, so to speak, never breathed a wordon the subject of the Thaller family, now he was continuallyspeaking of them. He told his Saturday friends all about theprincely style of the baron, the number of his servants and horses,the color of his liveries, the parties that he gave, what he spentfor pictures and objects of art, and even the very names of hismistresses; for the baron had too much respect for himself not tolay every year a few thousand napoleons at the feet of some younglady sufficiently conspicuous to be mentioned in the societynewspapers.

M. Favoral confessed that he did not approve the baron; but it waswith a sort of bitter hatred that he spoke of the baroness. It wasimpossible, he affirmed to his guests, to estimate even approximatelythe fabulous sums squandered by her, scattered, thrown to the fourwinds. For she was not prodigal, she was prodigality itself, - thatidiotic, absurd, unconscious prodigality which melts a fortune in aturn of the hand; which cannot even obtain from money thesatisfaction of a want, a wish, or a fancy.

He said incredible things of her, - things which made Mme.

Desclavettes jump upon her seat, explaining that he learned allthese details from M. de Thaller, who had often commissioned him topay his wife's debts, and also from the baroness herself, who didnot hesitate to call sometimes at the office for twenty francs; forsuch was her want of order, that, after borrowing all the savingsof her servants, she frequently had not two cents to throw to abeggar.

Neither did the cashier of the Mutual Credit seem to have a verygood opinion of Mademoiselle de Thaller.

Brought up at hap-hazard, in the kitchen much more than in theparlor, until she was twelve, and, later, dragged by her motheranywhere, - to the races, to the first representations, to thewatering-places, always escorted by a squadron of the young menof the bourse, Mlle. de Thaller had adopted a style which wouldhave been deemed detestable in a man. As soon as some questionablefashion appeared, she appropriated it at once, never finding anything eccentric enough to make herself conspicuous. She rode onhorseback, fenced, frequented pigeon-shooting matches, spoke slang,sang Theresa's songs, emptied neatly her glass of champagne, andsmoked her cigarette.

The guests were struck dumb with astonishment.

"But those people must spend millions!" interrupted M. Chapelain.

M. Favoral started as if he had been slapped on the back.

"Bash!" he answered. "They are so rich, so awfully rich!"He changed the conversation that evening; but on the followingSaturday, from the very beginning of the dinner,I believe," he said, "that M. de Thaller has just discovered ahusband for his daughter.""My compliments!" exclaimed M. Desormeaux. "And who may this boldfellow be?""A nobleman, of course," he replied. "Isn't that the tradition?

As soon as a financier has made his little million, he starts inquest of a nobleman to give him his daughter."One of those painful presentiments, such as arise in the inmostrecesses of the soul, made Mlle. Gilberte turn pale. Thispresentiment suggested to her an absurd, ridiculous, unlikely thing;and yet she was sure that it would not deceive her, - so sure,indeed, that she rose under the pretext of looking for something inthe side-board, but in reality to conceal the terrible emotion whichshe anticipated.

"And this gentleman?" inquired M. Chapelain.

"Is a marquis, if you please, - the Marquis de Tregars."Well, yes, it was this very name that Mlle. Gilberte was expecting,and well that she did; for she was thus able to command enoughcontrol over herself to check the cry that rose to her throat.

"But this marriage is not made yet," pursued M. Favoral. "Thismarquis is not yet so completely ruined, that he can be made to doany thing they please. Sure, the baroness has set her heart uponit, oh! but with all her might!"A discussion which now arose prevented Gilberte from learning anymore; and as soon as the dinner, which seemed eternal to her, wasover, she complained of a violent headache, and withdrew to her room.

She shook with fever; her teeth chattered. And yet she could notbelieve that Marius was betraying her, nor that he could have thethought of marrying such a girl as M. Favoral had described, andfor money too! Poor, ah! No, that was not admissible. Althoughshe remembered well that Marius had made her swear to believenothing that might be said of him, she spent a horrible Sunday,and she felt like throwing herself in the Signor Gismondo's arms,when, in giving her his lesson the following Monday,My poor pupil," he said, "feels miserable. A marriage has beenspoken of for him, for which he has a perfect horror; and he trembleslest the rumor may reach his intended, whom he loves exclusively."Mlle. Gilberte felt re-assured after that. And yet there remainedin her heart an invincible sadness. She could hardly doubt thatthis matrimonial scheme was a part of the plan planned by Mariusto recover his fortune. But why, then, had he applied to M. deThaller? Who could be the man who had despoiled the Marquis deTregars?

Such were the thoughts which occupied her mind on that Saturdayevening when the commissary of police presented himself in the RueSt. Gilles to arrest M. Favoral, charged with embezzling ten ortwelve millions.
Chapter XXII
　　The hour had now come for the denouement of that home tragedy whichwas being enacted in the Rue St. Gilles.

The reader will remember the incidents narrated at the beginning ofthis story, - M. de Thaller's visit and angry words with M. Favoral,his departure after leaving a package of bank-notes in Mlle.

Gilberte's hands, the advent of the commissary of police, M.

Favoral's escape, and finally the departure of the Saturday eveningguests.

The disaster which struck Mme. Favoral and her children had been sosudden and so crushing, that they had been, on the moment, toostupefied to realize it. What had happened went so far beyond thelimits of the probable, of the possible even, that they could notbelieve it. The too cruel scenes which had just taken place wereto them like the absurd incidents of a horrible nightmare.

But when their guests had retired after a few commonplaceprotestations, when they found themselves alone, all three, in thathouse whose master had just fled, tracked by the police, - thenonly, as the disturbed equilibrium of their minds became somewhatrestored, did they fully realize the extent of the disaster, andthe horror of the situation.

Whilst Mme. Favoral lay apparently lifeless on an arm-chair,Gilberte kneeling at her feet, Maxence was walking up and down theparlor with furious steps. He was whiter than the plaster on thehalls; and a cold perspiration glued his tangled hair to his temples.

His eyes glistening, and his fists clinched,"Our father a thief!" he kept repeating in a hoarse voice, "a forger!"And in fact never had the slightest suspicion arisen in his mind.

In these days of doubtful reputations, he had been proud indeed ofM. Favoral's reputation of austere integrity. And he had enduredmany a cruel reproach, saying to himself that his father had, by hisown spotless conduct, acquired the right to be harsh and exacting.

"And he has stolen twelve millions!" he exclaimed.

And he went on, trying to calculate all the luxury and splendorwhich such a sum represents, all the cravings gratified, all thedreams realized, all it can procure of things that may be bought.

And what things are not for sale for twelve millions!

Then he examined the gloomy home in the Rue St. Gilles, - thecontracted dwelling, the faded furniture the prodigies of aparsimonious industry, his mother's privations, his sister's penury,and his own distress. And he exclaimed again,"It is a monstrous infamy!"The words of the commissary of police had opened his eyes; and henow fancied the most wonderful things. M. Favoral, in his mind,assumed fabulous proportions. By what miracles of hypocrisy anddissimulation had he succeeded in making himself ubiquitous as itwere, and, without awaking a suspicion, living two lives so distinctand so different, - 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.

For Maxence considered the bills found in the secretary as aflagrant, irrefutable and material proof.

Upon the brink of that abyss of shame into which his father had justtumbled, he thought he could see, not the inevitable woman, thatincentive of all human actions, but the entire legion of thosebewitching courtesans who possess unknown crucibles wherein to swellfortunes, and who have secret filters to stupefy their dupes, andstrip them of their honor, after robbing them of their last cent.

"And I," said Maxence, - " I, because at twenty I was fond ofpleasure, I was called a bad son! Because I had made some threehundred francs of debts, I was deemed a swindler! Because I lovea poor girl who has for me the most disinterested affection, I amone of those rascals whom their family disown, and from whom nothingcan be expected but shame and disgrace!"He filled the parlor with the sound of his voice, which rose likehis wrath.

And at the thought of all the bitter reproaches which had beenaddressed to him by his father, and of all the humiliations thathad been heaped upon him,"Ah, the wretch!" he fairly shrieked, " - the coward!"As pale as her brother, her face bathed in tears, and her beautifulhair hanging undone, Mlle. Gilberte drew herself up.

"He is our father, Maxence," she said gently.

But he interrupted her with a wild burst of laughter. "True," heanswered; "and, by virtue of the law which is written in the code,we owe him affection and respect.""Maxence! "murmured the girl in a beseeching tone. But he went on,nevertheless,"Yes, he is our father, unfortunately. But I should like to knowhis titles to our respect and our affection. After making ourmother the most miserable of creatures, he has embittered ourexistence, withered our youth, ruined my future, and done his bestto spoil yours by compelling you to marry Costeclar. And, to crownall these deeds of kindness, he runs away now, after stealing twelvemillions, leaving us nothing but misery and a disgraced name.

"And yet," he added, "is it possible that a cashier should taketwelve millions, and his employer know nothing of it? And is ourfather really the only man who benefitted by these millions?"Then came back to the mind of Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte the lastwords of their father at the moment of his flight," I have been betrayed; and I must suffer for all!"And his sincerity could hardly be called in question; for he wasthen in one of those moments of decisive crisis in which the truthforces itself out in spite of all calculation.

"He must have accomplices then," murmured Maxence.

Although he had spoken very low, Mme. Favoral overheard him. Todefend her husband, she found a remnant of energy, and, straighteningherself on her seat,"Ah! do not doubt it," she stammered out. "Of his own inspiration,Vincent could never have committed an evil act. He has beencircumvented, led away, duped!""Very well; but by whom?""By Costeclar," affirmed Mlle. Gilberte.

"By the Messrs. Jottras, the bankers," said Mme. Favoral, "and alsoby M. Saint Pavin, the editor of 'the Financial Pilot.'""By all of them, evidently," interrupted Maxence, "even by hismanager, M. de Thaller."When a man is at the bottom of a precipice, what is the use offinding out how he has got there, - whether by stumbling over astone, or slipping on a tuft of grass! And yet it is always ourforemost thought. It was with an eager obstinacy that Mme. Favoraland her children ascended the course of their existence, seeking inthe past the incidents and the merest words which might throw somelight upon their disaster; for it was quite manifest that it wasnot in one day and at the same time that twelve millions had beensubtracted from the Mutual Credit. This enormous deficit must havebeen, 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 hadbecome inevitable.

"Alas!" murmured Mme. Favoral, "why did not Vincent listen to mypresentiments on that ever fatal day when he brought M. de Thaller,M. Jottras, and M. Saint Pavin to dine here? They promised him afortune."Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte were too young at the time of that dinnerto have preserved any remembrance of it; but they remembered manyother circumstances, which, at the time they had taken place, hadnot struck them. They understood now the temper of their father,his perpetual irritation, and the spasms of his humor. When hisfriends were heaping insults upon him, he had exclaimed,"Be it so! let them arrest me; and to-night, for the first time inmany years, I shall sleep in peace."There were years, then, that he lived, as it were upon burning coals,trembling at the fear of discovery, and wondering, as he went tosleep each night, whether he would not be awakened by the rude handof the police tapping him on the shoulder. No one better than Mme.

Favoral could affirm it.

"Your father, my children," she said, "had long since lost his sleep.

There was hardly ever a night that he did not get up and walk theroom for hours."They understood, now, his efforts to compel Mlle. Gilberte to marryM. Costeclar.

"He thought that Costeclar would help him out of the scrape,"suggested Maxence to his sister.

The poor girl shuddered at the thought, and she could not helpfeeling 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?.

"I have stolen! I am lost! Costeclar alone can save me; and hewill save me if you become his wife."M. Favoral's pleasant behavior during the siege was quite natural.

Then he had no fears; and one could understand how in the mostcritical hours of the Commune, when Paris was in flames, he couldhave exclaimed almost cheerfully,"Ah! this time it is indeed the final liquidation."Doubtless, in the bottom of his heart, he wished that Paris mightbe destroyed, and, with it, the evidences of his crime. Andperhaps he was not the only one to form that impious wish.

"That's why, then," exclaimed Maxence, - "that's why my fathertreated me so rudely: that's why he so obstinately persisted inclosing the offices of the Mutual Credit against me."He was interrupted by a violent ringing of the door-bell. He lookedat the clock: ten o'clock was about to strike.

"Who can call so late?" said Mme. Favoral.

Something like a discussion was heard in the hall, - a voice hoarsewith anger, and the servant's voice.

"Go and see who's there," said Gilberte to her brother.

It was useless; the servant appeared.

"It's M. Bertan," she commenced, "the baker - He had followed her,and, pushing her aside with his robust arm, he appeared himself.

He was a man about forty years of age, tall, thin, already bald,and wearing his beard trimmed close.

"M. Favoral?" he inquired.

"My father is not at home," replied Maxence.

"It's true, then, what I have just been told?""What?""That the police came to arrest him, and he escaped through awindow.""It's true," replied Maxence gently.

The baker seemed prostrated.

"And my money?" he asked.

"What money?""Why, my ten thousand francs! Ten thousand francs which I broughtto M. Favoral, in gold, you hear? in ten rolls, which I placedthere, on that very table, and for which he gave me a receipt. Hereit is, - his receipt."He held out a paper; but Maxence did not take it.

"I do not doubt your word, sir," he replied; "but my father'sbusiness is not ours.""You refuse to give me back my money?""Neither my mother, my sister, nor myself, have any thing."The blood rushed to the man's face, and, with a tongue made thickby anger,"And you think you are going to pay me off in that way?" heexclaimed. "You have nothing! Poor little fellow! And will youtell me, then, what has become of the twenty millions your fatherhas stolen? for he has stolen twenty millions. I know it: I havebeen told so. Where are they?""The police, sir, has placed the seals over my fathers papers.""The police?" interrupted the baker, "the seals? What do I carefor that? It's my money I want: do you hear? Justice is going totake a hand in it, is it? Arrest your father, try him? What goodwill that do me? He will be condemned to two or three years'

imprisonment. Will that give me a cent? He will serve out his timequietly; and, when he gets out of prison, he'll get hold of the pilethat he's got hidden somewhere; and while I starve, he'll spend mymoney under my very nose. No, no! Things won't 'suit me that way.

It's at once that I want to be paid."And throwing himself upon a chair his head back, and his legsstretched forward-"And what's more," he declared, "I am not going out of here untilI am paid."It was not without the greatest efforts that Maxence managed tokeep his temper.

"Your insults are useless, sir," he commenced.

The man jumped up from his seat.

"Insults!" he cried in a voice that could have been heard allthrough the house. "Do you call it an insult when a man claims hisown? If you think you can make me hush, you are mistaken in yourman, M. Favoral, Jun. I am not rich myself: my father has notstolen to leave me an income. It is not in gambling at the boursethat I made these ten thousand francs. It is by the sweat of mybody, by working hard night and day for years, by depriving myselfof a glass of wine when I was thirsty. And I am to lose them? Bythe holy name of heaven, we'll have to see about that! If everybodywas like me, there would not be so many scoundrels going about,their pockets filled with other people's money, and from the top oftheir carriage laughing at the poor fools they have ruined. Come,my ten thousand francs, canaille, or I take my pay on your back."Maxence, enraged, was about to throw himself upon the man, and adisgusting struggle was about to begin, when Mlle. Gilberte steppedbetween them.

"Your threats are as cowardly as your insults, Monsieur Bertan,"she uttered in a quivering voice. "You have known us long enoughto be aware that we know nothing of our father's business, and thatwe have nothing ourselves. All we can do is to give up to ourcreditors our very last crumb. Thus it shall be done. And now,sir, please retire."There was so much dignity in her sorrow, and so imposing was herattitude, that the baker stood abashed.

"Ah! if that's the way," he stammered awkwardly; "and since youmeddle with it, mademoiselle" - And he retreated precipitately,growling at the same time threats and excuses, and slamming thedoors after him hard enough to break the partitions.

"What a disgrace!" murmured Mme. Favoral. Crushed by this lastscene, she was choking; and her children had to carry her to theopen window. She recovered almost at once; but thus, through thedarkness, bleak and cold, she had like a vision of her husband; and,throwing herself back,"0 great heavens!" she uttered, "where did he go when he left us?

Where is he now? What is he doing? What has become of him?"Her married life had been for Mme. Favoral but a slow torture. Itwas in vain that she would have looked back through her past lifefor some of those happy days which leave their luminous track inlife, and towards which the mind turns in the hours of grief.

Vincent Favoral had never been aught but a brutal despot, abusingthe resignation of his victim. And yet, had he died, she would havewept bitterly over him in all the sincerity of her honest and simplesoul. Habit! Prisoners have been known to shed tears over thegrave of their jailer. Then he was her husband, after all, thefather of her children, the only man who existed for her. Fortwenty-six years they had never been separated: they had sat at thesame table: they had slept side by side.

Yes, she would have wept over him. But how much less poignant wouldher grief have been than at this moment, when it was complicated byall the torments of uncertainty, and by the most frightfulapprehensions!

Fearing lest she might take cold, her children had removed her tothe sofa, and there, all shivering,"Isn't it horrible," she said, "not to know any thing of your father?

- to think that at this very moment, perhaps, pursued by the police,he is wandering in despair through the streets, without daring toask anywhere for shelter."Her children had no time to answer and comfort her; for at thismoment the door-be11 rang again.

"Who can it be now?" said Mme. Favoral with a start.

This time there was no discussion in the hall. Steps sounded on thefloor of the dining-room; the door opened; and M. Desclavettes, theold bronze-merchant, walked, or rather slipped into the parlor.

Hope, fear, anger, all the sentiments which agitated his soul, couldbe read on his pale and cat-like face.

"It is I," he commenced.

Maxence stepped forward.

"Have you heard any thing from my father, sir?""No," answered the old merchant, "I confess I have not; and I wasjust coming to see if you had yourselves. Oh, I know very well thatthis 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 bedyet. I could not sleep myself. You understand a friendship oftwenty years' standing! So I took Mme. Desclavettes home, and hereI am.""We feel very thankful for your kindness," murmured Mme. Favoral.

"I am glad you do. The fact is, you see, I take a good deal ofinterest in the misfortune that strikes you, - a greater interestthan any one else. For, after all, I, too, am a victim. I hadintrusted one hundred and twenty thousand francs to our dear Vincent.""Alas, sir!" said Mlle. Gilberte.

But the worthy man did not allow her to proceed. "I have no faultto find with him," he went on- "absolutely none. Why, dear me!

haven't I been in business myself? and don't I know what it is?

First, we borrow a thousand francs or so from the cash account,then ten thousand, then a hundred thousand. Oh! without any badintention, to be sure, and with the firm resolution to return them.

But we don't always do what we wish to do. Circumstances sometimeswork against us, if we operate at the bourse to make up the deficitwe lose. Then we must borrow again, draw from Peter to pay Paul.

We are afraid of being caught: we are compelled, reluctantly ofcourse, to alter the books. At last a day comes when we find thatmillions are gone, and the bomb-shell bursts. Does it follow fromthis that a man is dishonest? Not the least in the world: he issimply unlucky."He stopped, as if awaiting an answer; but, as none came, he resumed,"I repeat, I have no fault to find with Favoral. Only then, now,between us, to lose these hundred and twenty thousand francs wouldsimply be a disaster for me. I know very well that both Chapelainand Desormeaux had also deposited funds with Favoral. But they arerich: one of them owns three houses in Paris, and the other has agood situation; whereas I, these hundred and twenty thousand francsgone, I'd have nothing left but my eyes to weep with. My wife isdying about it. I assure you our position is a terrible one."To M. Desciavettes, - as to the baker a few moments before,"We have nothing," said Maxence.

"I know it," exclaimed the old merchant. "I know it as well as youdo yourself. And so I have come to beg a little favor of you, whichwill cost you nothing. When you see Favoral, remember me to him,explain my situation to him, and try to make him give me back mymoney. He is a hard one to fetch, that's a fact. But if you goright about it, above all, if our dear Gilberte will take the matterin hand ""Sir!""Oh! I swear I sha'n't say a word about it, either to Desormeauxor Chapelain, nor to any one else. Although reimbursed, I'll makeas much noise as the rest, - more noise, even. Come, now, my dearfriends, what do you say?"He was almost crying.

"And where the deuse," exclaimed Maxence, "do you expect my fatherto take a hundred and twenty thousand francs? Didn't you see him gowithout even taking the money that M. de Thaller had brought?"A smile appeared upon M. Desclavettes' pale lips.

"That will do very well to say, my dear Maxence;" he said, "andsome people may believe it. But don't say it to your old friend,who knows too much about business for that. When a man, puts off,after borrowing twelve millions from his employers, he would be agreat fool if he had not put away two or three in safety. Now,Favoral is not a fool."Tears of shame and anger started from Mlle. Gilberte's eyes.

"What you are saying is abominable, sir!" she exclaimed.

He seemed much surprised at this outburst of violence.

"Why so?" he answered. "In Vincent's place, I should not havehesitated to do what he has certainly done. And I am an honest mantoo. I was in business for twenty years; and I dare any one toprove that a note signed Desclavettes ever went to protest. Andso, my dear friends, I beseech you, consent to serve your oldfriend, and, when you see your father "The old man's tone of voice exasperated even Mme. Favoral herself.

"We never expect to see my husband again," she uttered.

He shrugged his shoulders, and, in a tone of paternal reproach,"You just give up all such ugly ideas," he said. "You will see himagain, that dear Vincent; for he is much too sharp to allow himselfto be caught. Of course, he'll stay away as long as it may benecessary; but, as soon as he can return without danger, he willdo so. The Statute of Limitations has not been invented for theGrand Turk. Why, the Boulevard is crowded with people who have allhad their little difficulty, and who have spent five or ten yearsabroad for their health. Does any one think any thing of it? Notin the least; and no one hesitates to shake hands with them.

Besides, those things are so soon forgotten."He kept on as if he never intended to stop; and it was not withouttrouble that Maxence and Gilberte succeeded in sending him off, verymuch dissatisfied to see his request so ill received. It was aftertwelve o'clock. 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.

"What will the morrow bring forth?" he thought.
Chapter XXIII
　　After a few hours of that leaden sleep which follows greatcatastrophes, Mme. Favoral and her children were awakened on themorning of the next day, which was Sunday, by the furious clamorsof an exasperated crowd. Each one, from his own room, understoodthat the apartment had just been invaded. Loud blows upon the doorwere mingled with the noise of feet, the oaths of men, and thescreams of women. And, above this confused and continuous tumult,such vociferations as these could be heard:

"I tell you they must be at home!""Canailles, swindlers, thieves!""We want to go in: we will go in!""Let the woman come, then: we want to see her, to speak to her!"Occasionally there were moments of silence, during which theplaintive voice of the servant could be heard; but almost at oncethe cries and the threats commenced again, louder than ever.

Maxence, being ready first, ran to the parlor, where his mother andsister joined him directly, their eyes swollen by sleep and by tears.

Mme. Favoral was trembling so much that she could not succeed infastening her dress.

"Do you hear?" she said in a choking voice.

From the parlor, which was divided from the dining-room byfolding-doors, they did not miss a single insult.

"Well," said Mlle. Gilberte coldly, "what else could we expect? IfBertan came alone last night, it is because he alone had beennotified. Here are the others now."And, turning to her brother,"You must see them," she added, "speak to them."But Maxence did not stir. The idea of facing the insults and thecurses of these enraged creditors was too repugnant to him.

"Would you rather let them break in the door?" said Mlle. Gilberte.

"That won't take long."He hesitated no more. Gathering all his courage, he stepped intothe dining-room. The disorder was beyond limits. The table hadbeen pushed towards one of the corners, the chairs were upset.

They were there some thirty men and women, - concierges,shop-keepers, and retired bourgeois of the neighborhood, theircheeks flushed, their eyes staring, gesticulating as if they had afit, shaking their clinched fists at the ceiling.

"Gentlemen," commenced Maxence.

But his voice was drowned by the most frightful shouts. He hadhardly got in, when he was so closely surrounded, that he had beenunable to close the parlor-door after him, and had been driven andbacked against the embrasure of a window.

"My father, gentlemen," he resumed.

Again he was interrupted. There were three or four before him, whowere endeavoring before all to establish their own claims clearly.

They were speaking all at once, each one raising his own voice soas to drown that of the others. And yet, through their confusedexplanations, it was easy to understand the way in which the cashierof the Mutual Credit had managed things.

Formerly it was only with great reluctance that he consented to takecharge of the funds which were offered to him; and then he neveraccepted sums less than ten thousand francs, being always careful tosay, that, not being a prophet, he could not answer for any thing,and might be mistaken, like any one else. Since the Commune, on thecontrary, and with a duplicity, that could never have been suspected,he had used all his ingenuity to attract deposits. Under somepretext or other, he would call among the neighbors, theshop-keepers; and, after lamenting with them about the hard timesand the difficulty of making money, he always ended by holding up tothem the dazzling profits which are yielded by certain investmentsunknown to the public.

If these very proceedings had not betrayed him, it is because herecommended to each the most inviolable secrecy, saying, that, atthe slightest indiscretion, he would be assailed with demands, andthat it would be impossible for him to do for all what he did for one.

At any rate, he took every thing that was offered, even the mostinsignificant sums, affirming, with the most imperturbable assurance,that he could double or treble them without the slightest risk.

The catastrophe having come, the smaller creditors showed themselves,as usual, the most angry and the most intractable. The less moneyone has, the more anxious one is to keep it. There was there an oldnewspaper-vender, who had placed in M. Favoral's hands all she hadin the world, the savings of her entire life, - five hundred francs.

Clinging desperately to Maxence's garments, she begged him to givethem back to her, swearing, that, if he did not, there was nothingleft for her to do, except to throw herself in the river. Her groansand her cries of distress exasperated the other creditors.

That the cashier of the Mutual Credit should have embezzled millions,they could well understand, they said. But that he could haverobbed this poor woman of her five hundred francs, - nothing morelow, more cowardly, and more vile could be imagined; and the lawhad no chastisement severe enough for such a crime.

"Give her back her five hundred francs;" they cried. For there wasnot one of them but would have wagered his head that M. Favoral hadlots of money put away; and some went even so far as to say that hemust have hid it in the house, and, if they looked well, they wouldfind it.

Maxence, bewildered, was at a loss what to do, when, in the midstof this hostile crowd, he perceived M. Chapelain's friendly face.

Driven from his bed at daylight by the bitter regrets at the heavyloss he had just sustained, the old lawyer had arrived in the RueSt. Gilles at the very moment when the creditors invaded M. Favoral'sapartment. Standing behind the crowd, he had seen and heard everything without breathing a word; and, if he interfered now, it wasbecause he thought things were about to take an ugly turn. He waswell known; and, as soon as he showed himself,"He is a friend of the rascal!" they shouted on all sides.

But he was not the man to be so easily frightened. He had seen manya worse case during twenty years that he had practised law,, and hadwitnessed all the sinister comedies and all the grotesque dramas ofmoney. He knew how to speak to infuriated creditors, how to handlethem, and what strings can be made to vibrate within them. In themost quiet tone,"Certainly," he answered, "I was Favoral's intimate friend; and theproof of it is, that he has treated me more friendly than the rest.

I am in for a hundred and sixty thousand francs."By this mere declaration he conquered the sympathies of the crowd.

He was a brother in misfortune; they respected him: he was a skilfulbusiness-man; they stopped to listen to him.

At once, and in a short and trenchant tone, he asked these invaderswhat they were doing there, and what they wanted. Did they not knowto what they exposed themselves in violating a domicile? What wouldhave happened, if, instead of stopping to parley, Maxence had sentfor the commissary of police? Was it to Mme. Favoral and herchildren that they had intrusted their funds? No! What did theywant with them then? Was there by chance among them some of thoseshrewd fellows who always try to get themselves paid in full, to thedetriment of the others?

This last insinuation proved sufficient to break up the perfectaccord that had hitherto existed among all the creditors. Distrustarose; suspicious glances were exchanged; and, as the old newspaperwoman was keeping up her groans,"I should like to know why you should be paid before us," two womentold her roughly. "Our rights are just as good as yours!"Prompt to avail himself of the dispositions of the crowd,"And, moreover," resumed the old lawyer, "in whom did we place ourconfidence? Was it in Favoral the private individual? To a certainextent, yes; but it was much more to the cashier of the MutualCredit. Therefore that establishment owes us, at least, someexplanations. And this is .not all. Are we really so badly burned,that we should scream so loud? What do we know about it? ThatFavoral is charged with embezzlement, that they came to arrest him,and that he has run away. Is that any reason why our money shouldbe lost? I hope not. And so what should we do? Act prudently,and wait patiently for the work of justice."Already, by this time, the creditors had slipped out one by one;and soon the servant closed the door on the last of them.

Then Mme. Favoral, Maxence, and Mlle. Gilberte surrounded M.

Chapelain, and, pressing his hands,"How thankful we feel, sir, for the service you have justrendered us!

But the old lawyer seemed in no wise proud of his victory.

"Do not thank me," he said. "I have only done my duty, - what anyhonest man would have done in my place."And yet, under the appearance of impassible coldness, which he owedto the long practice of a profession which leaves no illusions, heevidently felt a real emotion.

"It is you whom I pity," he added, "and with all my soul, - you,madame, you, my dear Gilberte, and you, too, Maxence. Never had Iso well understood to what degree is guilty the head of a familywho leaves his wife and children exposed to the consequences of hiscrimes.

He stopped. The servant was trying her best to put the dining-roomin some sort of order wheeling the table to the centre of the room,and lifting up the chairs from the floor.

"What pillage!" she grumbled. "Neighbors too, - people from whomwe bought our things! But they were worse than savages; impossibleto do any thing with them.""Don't trouble yourself, my good girl," said M. Chapelain: "theywon't come back any more!"Mme. Favoral looked as if she wished to drop on her knees beforethe old lawyer.

"How, very kind you are!" she murmured: "you are not too angry withmy poor Vincent!"With the look of a man who has made up his mind to make the best ofa disaster that he cannot help, M. Chapelain shrugged his shoulders.

"I am angry with no one but myself," he uttered in a bluff tone.

"An old bird like me should not have allowed himself to be caughtin a pigeon-trap. I am inexcusable. But we want to get rich. It'sslow work getting rich by working, and it's so much easier to getthe money already made out of our neighbor's pockets! I have beenunable to resist the temptation myself. It's my own fault; and Ishould say it was a good lesson, if it did not cost so dear."'
Chapter XXIV
　　So much philosophy could hardly have been expected of him.

"All my father's friends are not as indulgent as you are," saidMaxence, - "M. Desclavettes, for instance.""Have you seen him?""Yes, last night, about twelve o'clock. He came to ask us to getfather to pay him back, if we should ever see him again.""That might be an idea!"Mlle. Gilberte started.

"What!" said she, "you, too, sir, can imagine that my father hasrun away with millions?"The old lawyer shook his head.

"I believe nothing," he answered. "Favoral has taken me in socompletely, - me, who had the pretension of being a judge of men,- that nothing from him, either for good or for evil, could surpriseme hereafter."Mme. Favoral was about to offer some objection; but he stopped herwith a gesture.

"And yet," he went on, "I'd bet that he has gone off with emptypockets. His recent operations reveal a frightful distress. Hadhe had a few thousand francs at his command, would he have extortedfive hundred francs from a poor old woman, a newspaper-vender?

What did he want with the money? Try his luck once more, no doubt."He was seated, his elbow upon the arm of the chair, his head restingupon his hands, thinking; and the contraction of his featuresindicated an extraordinary tension of mind.

Suddenly he drew himself up.

"But why," he exclaimed, "why wander in idle conjectures? What dowe know about Favoral? Nothing. One entire side of his existenceescapes us, - that fantastic side, of which the insane prodigalitiesand inconceivable disorders have been revealed to us by the billsfound in his desk. He is certainly guilty; but is he as guilty aswe think? and, above all, is he alone guilty? Was it for himselfalone that he drew all this money? Are the missing millions reallylost? and wouldn't it be possible to find the biggest share of themin the pockets of some accomplice? Skilful men do not exposethemselves. They have at their command poor wretches, sacrificedin advance, and who, in exchange for a few crumbs that are thrownto them, risk the criminal court, are condemned, and go to prison.""That's just what I was telling my mother and sister, sir,"interrupted Maxence.

"And that's what I am telling myself," continued the old lawyer.

"I have been thinking over and over again of last evening's scene;and strange doubts have occurred to my mind. For a man who hasbeen robbed of a dozen millions, M. de Thaller was remarkably quietand self-possessed. Favoral appeared to me singularly calm for aman charged with embezzlement and forgery. M. de Thaller, asmanager of the Mutual Credit, is really responsible for the stolenfunds, and, as such, should have been anxious to secure the guiltyparty, and to produce him. Instead of that, he wished him to go,and actually brought him the money to enable him to leave. Was hein hopes of hushing up the affair? Evidently not, since the policehad been notified. On the other hand, Favoral seemed much moreangry than surprised by the occurrence. It was only on theappearance of the commissary of police that he seems to have losthis head; and then some very strange things escaped him, which Icannot understand."He was walking at random through the parlor, apparently ratheranswering the objections of his own mind than addressing himself tohis interlocutors, who were listening, nevertheless, with all theattention of which they were capable.

"I don't know," he went on. "An old traveler like me to be takenin thus! Evidently there is under all this one of those diabolicalcombinations which time even fails to unravel. We ought to see,to inquire "And then, suddenly stopping in front of Maxence,"How much did M. de Thaller bring to your father last evening?" heasked.

"Fifteen thousand francs.""Where are they?""Put away in mother's room.""When do you expect to take them back to M. de Thaller?""To-morrow.""Why not to-day?""This is Sunday. The offices of the Mutual Credit must be closed.""After the occurrences of yesterday, M. de Thaller must be at hisoffice. Besides, haven't you his private address?""I beg your pardon, I have."The old lawyer's small eyes were shining with unusual brilliancy.

He certainly felt deeply the loss of his money; but the idea thathe had been swindled for the benefit of some clever rascal wasabsolutely insupportable to him.

"If we were wise," he said again, "we'd do this. Mme. Favoralwould take these fifteen thousand francs, and we would go together,she and I, to see M. de Thaller."It was an unexpected good-fortune for Mme. Favoral, that M.

Chapelain should consent to assist her. So, without hesitating,"The time to dress, sir," she said, "and I am ready." She left theparlor; but as she reached her room, her son joined her.

"I am obliged to go out, dear mother," he said; "and I shallprobably not be home to breakfast."She looked at him with an air of painful surprise. "What," she said,"at such a moment!""I am expected home.""By whom? A woman?" she murmured.

"Well, yes.""And it is for that woman's sake that you want to leave your sisteralone at home?""I must, mother, I assure you; and, if you only knew -""I do not wish to know, any thing."But his resolution had been taken. He went off; and a few momentslater Mme. Favoral and M. Chapelain entered a cab which had beensent for, and drove to M. de Thaller's.

Left alone, Mlle. Gilberte had but one thought, - to notify M. deTregars, and obtain word from him. Any thing seemed preferable tothe horrible anxiety which oppressed her. She had just commenceda letter, which she intended to have taken to the Count de Villegre,when a violent ring of the bell made her start; and almostimmediately the servant came in, saying,"It is a gentleman who wishes to see you, a friend of monsieur's,- M. Costeclar, you know."Mlle. Gilberte started to her feet, trembling with excitement.

"That's too much impudence!" she exclaimed. She was hesitatingwhether to refuse him the door, or to see him, and dismiss himshamefully herself, when she had a sudden inspiration. "What doeshe want?" she thought. "Why not see him, and try and find out whathe knows? For he certainly must know the truth."But it was no longer time to deliberate. Above the servant'sshoulder M. Costeclar,s pale and impudent face showed itself.

The girl having stepped to one side, he appeared, hat in hand.

Although it was not yet nine o'clock, his morning toilet wasirreproachably correct. He had already passed through thehair-dresser's hands; and his scanty hair was brought forward overhis low fore-head with the usual elaborate care.

He wore a pair of those ridiculous trousers which grow wide fromthe knee down, and which were invented by Prussian tailors to hidetheir customers' ugly feet. Under his light-colored overcoat couldbe seen a velvet-faced jacket, with a rose in its buttonhole.

Meantime, he remained motionless on the threshold of the door,trying to smile, and muttering one of those sentences which arenever intended to be finished.

"I beg you to believe, mademoiselle your mother's absence - my mostrespectful admiration -"In fact, he was taken aback by the disorder of the girl's toilet,- disorder which she had had no time to repair since the clamorsof the creditors had started her from her bed.

She wore a long brown cashmere wrapper, fitting quite close overthe hips setting off the vigorous elegance of her figure, themaidenly perfections of her waist, and the exquisite contour ofher neck. Gathered up in haste, her thick blonde hair escapedfrom beneath the pins, and spread over her shoulders in luminouscascades. Never had she appeared to M. Costeclar as lovely as atthis moment, when her whole frame was vibrating with suppressedindignation her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing.

"Please come in, sir," she uttered.

He stepped forward, no longer bowing humbly as formerly, but withlegs outstretched, chest thrown out, with an ill-concealed look ofgratified vanity. "I did not expect the honor of your visit, sir,"said the young girl.

Passing rapidly his hat and his cane from the right hand into theleft, and then the right hand upon his heart, his eyes raised tothe ceiling, and with all the depth of expression of which he wascapable,"It is in times of adversity that we know our real friends,mademoiselle," he uttered. "Those upon whom we thought we couldrely the most, often, at the first reverse, take flight forever!"She felt a shiver pass over her. Was this an allusion to Marius?

The other, changing his tone, went on,"It's only last night that I heard of poor Favoral's discomfiture,at the bourse where I had gone for news. It was the general topicof conversation. Twelve millions! That's pretty hard. The MutualCredit Society might not be able to stand it. From 580 at whichit was selling before the news, it dropped at once to 300. At nineo'clock, there were no takers at 180 And yet, if there is nothingbeyond what they say, at 180, I am in."Was he forgetting himself, or pretending to?

"But please excuse me, mademoiselle," he resumed: "that's not whatI came to tell you."I came to ask if you had any news of our poor Favoral.""We have none, sir.""Then it is true: he succeeded in getting away through this window?""Yes.""And he did not tell you where he meant to take refuge?"Observing M. Costeclar with all her power of penetration, Mlle.

Gilberte fancied she discovered in him something like a certainsurprise mingled with joy.

"Then Favoral must have left without a sou!""They accuse him of having carried away millions, sir; but I wouldswear that it is not so."M. Costeclar approved with a nod.

"I am of the same opinion he declared, "unless - but no, he was notthe man to try such a game. And yet - but again no, he was tooclosely watched. Besides, he was carrying a very heavy load, a loadthat exhausted all his resources."Mlle. Gilberte, hoping that she was going to learn something, madean effort to preserve her indifference.

"What do you mean?" she inquired.

He looked at her, smiled, and, in a light tone,"Nothing," he answered, "only some conjectures of my own."And throwing himself upon a chair, his head leaning upon its back,"That is not the object of my visit either," he uttered. "Favoralis overboard: don't let us say any thing more about him. Whetherhe has got 'the bag' or not, you'll never see him again: he is asgood as dead. Let us, therefore, talk of the living, of yourself.

What's going to become of you?""I do not understand your question, sir.""It is perfectly limpid, nevertheless. I am asking myself how youare going to live, your mother and yourself?

"Providence will not abandon us, sir?"M. Costeclar had crossed his legs, and with the end of his cane hewas negligently tapping his immaculate boot.

"Providence!" he giggled; "that's very good on the stage, in a play,with low music in the orchestra. I can just see it. In real life,unfortunately, the life which we both live, you and I, it is notwith words, were they a yard long, that the baker, the grocer, andthose rascally landlords, can be paid, or that dresses and shoescan be bought."She made no answer.

"Now, then," he went on, "here you are without a penny. Is itMaxence who will supply you with money? Poor fellow! Where wouldhe get it? He has hardly enough for himself. Therefore, what areyou going to do?"I shall work, sir."He got up, bowed low, and, resuming his seat,"My sincere compliments," he said. "There is but one obstacle tothat fine resolution: it is impossible for a woman to live by herlabor alone. Servants are about the only ones who ever get theirfull to eat.""I'll be a servant, if necessary.".

For two or three seconds he remained taken aback, but, recoveringhimself,"How different things would be," he resumed in an insinuating tone,"if you had not rejected me when I wanted to become your husband!

But you couldn't bear the sight of me. And yet, 'pon my word, I wasin love with you, oh, but for good and earnest! You see, I am ajudge of women; and I saw very well how you would look, handsomelydressed and got up, leaning back in a fine carriage in the Bois -"Stronger than her will, disgust rose to her lips.

"Ah, sir!" she said.

He mistook her meaning.

"You are regretting all that," he continued. "I see it. Formerly,eh, you would never have consented to receive me thus, alone withyou, which proves that girls should not be headstrong, my dear child."He, Costeclar, he dared to call her, "My dear child." Indignant andinsulted, "Oh!" she exclaimed. But he had started, and kept on,"Well, such as I was, I am still. To be sure, there probably wouldbe nothing further said about marriage between us; but, frankly,what would you care if the conditions were the same, - a fine house,carriages, horses, servants -"Up to this moment, she, had not fully understood him. Drawingherself up to her fullest height, and pointing to the door,"Leave this moment," she ordered.

But he seemed in no wise disposed to do so: on the contrary, palerthan usual, his eyes bloodshot, his lips trembling, and smiling astrange smile, he advanced towards Mlle. Gilberte.

"What!" said he. "You are in trouble, I kindly come to offer myservices, and this is the way you receive me! You prefer to work,do you? Go ahead then, my lovely one, prick your pretty fingers,and redden your eyes. My time will come. Fatigue and want, coldin the winter, hunger in all seasons, will speak to your littleheart of that kind Costeclar who adores you, like a big fool thathe is, who is a serious man and who has money, - much money."Beside herself,"Wretch!" cried the girl, "leave, leave at once.""One moment," said a strong voice.

M. Costeclar looked around.

Marius de Tregars stood within the frame of the open door.

"Marius!" murmured Mlle. Gilberte, rooted to the spot by a surprisehardly less immense than her joy.

To behold him thus suddenly, when she was wondering whether shewould ever see him again; to see him appear at the very momentwhen she found herself alone, and exposed to the basest outrages,- it was one of those fortunate occurrences which one can scarcelyrealize; and from the depth of her soul rose something like a hymnof thanks.

Nevertheless, she was confounded at M. Costeclar's attitude.

According to her, and from what she thought she knew, he should havebeen petrified at the sight of M. de Tregars.

And he did not even seem to know him. He seemed shocked, annoyedat being interrupted, slightly surprised, but in no wise moved orfrightened. Knitting his brows,"What do you wish?" he inquired in his most impertinent tone.

M. de Tregars stepped forward. He was somewhat pale, but unnaturallycalm, cool, and collected. Bowing to Mlle. Gilberte,"If I have thus ventured to enter your apartment, mademoiselle," heuttered gently, " it is because, as I was going by the door, Ithought I recognized this gentleman's carriage."And, with his finger over his shoulder, he was pointing to M.

Costeclar.

"Now," he went on, "I had reason to be somewhat astonished at this,after the positive orders I had given him never to set his feet, notonly in this house, but in this part of the city. I wished to findout exactly. I came up: I heard -"All this was said in a tone of such crushing contempt, that a slapon the face would have been less cruel. All the blood in M.

Costeclar's veins rushed to his face.

"You!" he interrupted insolently: "I do not know you."Imperturbable, M. de Tregars was drawing off his gloves.

"Are you quite certain of that?" he replied. "Come, you certainlyknow my old friend, M. de Villegre?"An evident feeling of anxiety appeared on M. Costeclar's countenance.

"I do," he stammered.

"Did not M. Villegre call upon you before the war?""He did.""Well, 'twas I who sent him to you; and the commands which hedelivered to you were mine."Yours?"Mine. I am Marius de Tregars."A nervous shudder shook M. Costeclar's lean frame. Instinctivelyhis eye turned towards the door.

"You see," Marius went on with the same gentleness, "we are, youand I, old acquaintances. For you quite remember me now, don'tyou? I am the son of that poor Marquis de Tregars who came toParis, all the way from his old Brittany with his whole fortune,- two millions.""I remember," said the stock-broker: "I remember perfectly well.""On the advice of certain clever people, the Marquis de Tregarsventured into business. Poor old man! He was not very sharp. Hewas firmly persuaded that he had already more than doubled hiscapital, when his honorable partners demonstrated to him that he wasruined, and, besides, compromised by certain signatures imprudentlygiven."Mlle. Gilberte was listening, her mouth open, and wondering whatMarius was aiming at, and how he could remain so calm.

"That disaster," he went on, "was at the time the subject of anenormous number of very witty jokes. The people of the boursecould hardly admire enough these bold financiers who had, so deftlyrelieved that candid marquis of his money. That was well done forhim; what was he meddling with? As to myself, to stop theprosecutions with which my father was threatened, I gave up all Ihad. I was quite young, and, as you see, quite what you call, Ibelieve, 'green.' I am no longer so now. Were such a thing tohappen to me to-day, I should want to know at once what had becomeof the millions: I would feel all the pockets around me. I wouldsay, 'Stop thief!'"At every word, as it were, M. Costeclar's uneasiness became moremanifest.

"It was not I," he said, "who received the benefit of M. de Tregars'

fortune."Marius nodded approvingly.

"I know now," he replied, "among whom the spoils were divided. You,M. Costeclar, you took what you could get, timidly, and according toyour means. Sharks are always accompanied by small fishes, to whichthey abandon the crumbs they disdain. You were but a small fishthen: you accommodated yourself with what your patrons, the sharks,did not care about. But, when you tried to operate alone, you werenot shrewd enough: you left proofs of your excessive appetite forother people's money. Those proofs I have in my possession."M. COSTECLAR was now undergoing perfect torture.

"I am caught," he said, "I know it: I told M. de Villegre so.""Why are you here, then?""How did I know that the count had been sent by you?""That's a poor reason, sir.""Besides, after what has occurred, after Favoral's flight, I thoughtmyself relieved of my engagement.""Indeed!""Well, if you insist upon it, I am wrong, I suppose.""Not only you are wrong," uttered Marius still perfectly cool, "butyou have committed a great imprudence. By failing to keep yourengagements, you have relieved me of mine. The pact is broken.

According to the agreement, I have the right, as I leave here, to gostraight to the police."M. COSTECLAR's dull eye was vacillating.

"I did not think I was doing wrong," he muttered. "Favoral was myfriend.""And that's the reason why you were coming to propose to Mlle.

Favoral to become your mistress? There she is, you thought, withoutresources, literally without bread, without relatives, withoutfriends to protect her: this is the time to come forward. Andthinking you could be cowardly, vile, and infamous with impunity,you came."To be thus treated, he, the successful man, in presence of thisyoung girl, whom, a moment before, he was crushing with his impudentopulence, no M. Costeclar could not stand it. Losing completelyhis head,"You should have let me know, then," he exclaimed, "that she wasyour mistress."Something like a flame passed over M. de Tregars' face. His eyesflashed. Rising in all the height of his wrath, which broke outterrible at last,"Ah, you scoundrel!" he exclaimed.

M. Costeclar threw himself suddenly to one side.

"Sir!"But at one bound M. de Tregars had caught him.

"On your knees!" he cried.

And, seizing him by the collar with an iron grip, he lifted himclear off the floor, and then threw him down violently upon bothknees.

"Speak!" he commanded. "Repeat, - 'Mademoiselle'

M. Costeclar had expected worse from M. de Tregars' look. A horriblefear had instantly crushed within him all idea of resistance.

"Mademoiselle," he stuttered in a choking voice. "I am the vilestof wretches," continued Marius. M. Costeclar's livid face wasoscillating like an inert object.

"I am," he repeated, "the vilest of wretches.""And I beg of you -"But Mlle. Gilberte was sick of the sight.

"Enough," she interrupted, "enough!"Feeling no longer upon his shoulders the heavy hand of M. de Tregars,the stock-broker rose with difficulty to his feet. So livid was hisface, that one might have thought that his whole blood had turnedto gall.

Dusting with the end of his glove the knees of his trousers, andrestoring as best he could the harmony of his toilet, which had beenseriously disturbed,"Is it showing any courage," he grumbled, "to abuse one's physicalstrength?"M. de Tregars had already recovered his self-possession; and Mlle.

Gilberte thought she could read upon his face regret for his violence.

"Would it be better to make use of what you know?" M. Costeclarjoined his hands.

"You would not do that,", he said. "What good would it do you toruin me?""None," answered M. de Tregars: "you are right. But yourself?"And, looking straight into M. Costeclar's eyes, - "If you could beof service to me," he inquired, "would you be willing?""Perhaps. That I might recover possession of the papers you have."M. de Tregars was thinking.

"After what has just taken place," he said at last, "an explanationis necessary between us. I will be at your house in an hour. Waitfor me."M. Costeclar had become more pliable than his own lavender kidgloves: in fact, alarmingly pliable.

"I am at your command, sir," he replied to M. de Tregars.

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.

"Ah, what a wretch!" exclaimed the, girl, dreadfully agitated.

"Marius, did you see what a look he gave us as he went out?""I saw it," replied M. de Tregars.

"That man hates us: he will not hesitate to commit a crime to avengethe atrocious humiliation you have just inflicted upon him.""I believe it too."Mlle. Gilberte made a gesture of distress.

"Why did you treat him so harshly?" she murmured.

"I had intended to remain calm, and it would have been politic tohave done so. But there are some insults which a man of heartcannot endure. I do not regret what I have done."A long pause followed; and they remained standing, facing each other,somewhat embarrassed. Mlle. Gilberte felt ashamed of the disorderof her dress. M. de Tregars wondered how he could have been boldenough to enter this house.

"You have heard of our misfortune," said the young girl at last.

I read about it this morning, in the papers.""What! the papers know already?""Every thing.""And our name is printed in them?"Yes."She covered her face with her two hands.

"What disgrace!" she said.

"At first," went on M. de Tregars, "I could hardly believe what Iread. I hastened to come; and the first shopkeeper I questionedconfirmed only too well what I had seen in the papers. From thatmoment, I had but one wish, - to see and speak to you. When Ireached the door, I recognized M. Costeclar's equipage, and I hada presentiment of the truth. I inquired from the concierge foryour mother or your brother, and heard that Maxence had gone outa few moments before, and that Mme. Favoral had just left in acarriage with M. Chapelain, the old lawyer. At the idea that youwere alone with Costeclar, I hesitated no longer. I ran up stairs,and, finding the door open, had no occasion to ring."Mlle. Gilberte could hardly repress the sobs that rose to her throat.

"I never hoped to see you again," she stammered; "and you'll findthere on the table the letter I had just commenced for you when M.

Costeclar interrupted me."M. de Tregars took it up quickly. Two lines only were written. Heread: "I release you from your engagement, Marius. Henceforth youare free."He became whiter than his shirt.

"You wish to release me from my engagement!" he exclaimed. "You -""Is it not my duty? Ah! if it had only been our fortune, I shouldperhaps have rejoiced to lose it. I know your heart. Poverty wouldhave brought us nearer together. But it's honor, Marius, honor thatis lost too! The name I bear is forever stained. Whether my fatheris caught, or whether he escapes, he will be tried all the same,condemned, and sentenced to a degrading penalty for embezzlement andforgery."If M. de Tregars was allowing her to proceed thus, it was because hefelt all his thoughts whirling in his brain; because she looked sobeautiful thus, all in tears, and her hair loose; because therearose from her person so subtle a charm, that words failed him toexpress the sensations that agitated him.

"Can you," she went on, "take for your wife the daughter of adishonored man? No, you cannot. Forgive me, then, for having fora moment turned away your life from its object; forgive the sorrowwhich I have caused you; leave me to the misery of my fate;forget me!"She was suffocating.

"Ah, you have never loved me!" exclaimed Marius.

Raising her hands to heaven,"Thou hearest him, great God!" she uttered, as if shocked by ablasphemy.

"Would it be easy for you to forget me then? Were I to be struckby misfortune, would you break our engagement, cease to love me?"She ventured to take his hands, and, pressing them between hers,"To cease loving you no longer depends on my will," she murmuredwith quivering lips. "Poor, abandoned of all, disgraced, criminaleven, I should love you still and always."With a passionate gesture, Marius threw his arm around her waist,and, drawing her to his breast, covered her blonde hair withburning kisses.

"Well, 'tis thus that I love you too!" he exclaimed, "and with allmy soul, exclusively, and for life! What do I care for yourparents? Do I know them? Your father - does he exist? Your name- it is mine, the spotless name of the Tregars. You are my wife!

mine, mine!"She was struggling feebly: an almost invincible stupor was creepingover her. She felt her reason disturbed, her energy giving way, afilm before her eyes, the air failing to her heaving chest.

A great effort o er will restored her to consciousness. Shewithdrew gently, and sank upon a chair, less strong against joythan s had been against sorrow.

"Pardon me," she stammered, "pardon me for having doubted you!"M. de Tregars was not much less agitated than Mlle. Gilberte: but hewas a man; and the springs of his energy were of a superior temper.

In less than a minute he had fully recovered his self-possessionand imposed upon his features their accustomed expression. Drawinga chair by the side of Mlle. Gilberte,"Permit me, my friend," he said, "to remind you that our moments arenumbered, and that there are many details which it is urgent that Ishould know.""What details?" she asked, raising her head.

"About your father."She looked at him with an air of profound surprise.

"Do you not know more about it than I do?" she replied, "more thanmy mother, more than any of us? Did you not, whilst following upthe people who robbed your father, strike mine unwittingly? And'tis I, wretch that I am, who inspired you to that fatal resolution;and I have not the heart to regret it."M. de Tregars had blushed imperceptibly. "How did you know?" hebegan.

"Was it not said that you were about to marry Mlle. de Thaller?"He drew up suddenly.

"Never," he exclaimed, "has this marriage existed, except in thebrain of M. de Thaller, and, more still, of the Baroness de Thaller.

That ridiculous idea occurred to her because she likes my name, andwould be delighted to see her daughter Marquise de Tregars. Shehas never breathed a word of it to me; but she has spoken of iteverywhere, with just enough secrecy to give rise to a good pieceof parlor gossip. She went so far as to confide to several personsof my acquaintance the amount of the dowry, thinking thus toencourage me. As far as I could, I warned you against this falsenews through the Signor Gismondo.""The Signor Gismondo relieved me of cruel anxieties," she replied;"but I had suspected the truth from the first. Was I not theconfidante of your hopes? Did I not know your projects? I hadtaken for granted that all this talk about a marriage was but ameans to advance yourself in M. de Thaller's intimacy withoutawaking his suspicions."M. de Tregars was not the man to deny a true fact.

"Perhaps, indeed, I have not been wholly foreign to M. Favoral'sdisaster. At least I may have hastened it a few months, a fewdays only, perhaps; for it was inevitable, fatal. Nevertheless,had I suspected the real facts, I would have given up my designs- Gilberte, I swear it - rather than risk injuring your father.

There is no undoing what is done; but the evil may, perhaps, besomewhat lessened."Mlle. Gilberte started.

"Great heavens!" she exclaimed, "do you, then, believe my fatherinnocent?"Better than any one else, Mlle. Gilberte must have been convincedof her father's guilt. Had she not seen him humiliated andtrembling before M. de Thaller? Had she not heard him, as it were,acknowledge the truth of the charge that was brought against him?

But at twenty hope never forsakes us, even in presence of facts.

And when she understood by M. de Tregars' silence that she wasmistaken,"It's madness," she murmured, dropping her head:

"I feel it but too well. But the heart speaks louder than reason.

It is so cruel to be driven to despise one's father!"She wiped the tears which filled her eyes, and, in a firmer voice,"What happens is so incomprehensible!" she went on. How can I helpimagining some one of those mysteries which time alone unravels.

For twenty-four hours we have been losing ourselves in idleconjectures, and, always and fatally, we come to this conclusion,that my father must be the victim of some mysterious intrigue.

"M. Chapelain, whom a loss of a hundred and sixty thousand francshas not made particularly indulgent, is of that opinion.""And so am I," exclaimed Marius.

"You see, then -"But without allowing her to proceed and taking gently her hand,"Let me tell you all," he interrupted, "and try with you to findan issue to this horrible situation. Strange rumors are afloatabout M. Favoral. It is said that his austerity was but a mask,his sordid economy a means of gaining confidence. It is affirmedthat in fact he abandoned himself to all sorts of disorders; thathe had, somewhere in Paris, an establishment, where he lavished themoney of which he was so sparing here. Is it so? The same thingis said of all those in whose hands large fortunes have melted."The young girl had become quite red.

"I believe that is true," she replied. "The commissary of policestated so to us. He found among my father's papers receipted billsfor a number of costly articles, which could only have been intendedfor a woman.

M. de Tregars looked perplexed.

"And does any one know who this woman is?" he asked.

"Whoever she may be, I admit that she may have cost M. Favoralconsiderable sums. But can she have cost him twelve millions?""Precisely the remark which M. Chapelain made.""And which every sensible man must also make. I know very wellthat to conceal for years a considerable deficit is a costlyoperation, requiring purchases and sales, the handling and shiftingof funds, all of which is ruinous in the extreme. But, on the otherhand, M. Favoral was making money, a great deal of money. He wasrich: he was supposed to be worth millions. Otherwise, Costeclarwould never have asked your hand.""M. Chapelain pretends that at a certain time my father had at leastfifty thousand francs a year.""It's bewildering."For two or three minutes M. de Tregars remained silent, reviewingin his mind every imaginable eventuality, and then,"But no matter," he resumed. "As soon as I heard this morning theamount of the deficit, doubts came to my mind. And it is for thatreason, dear friend, that I was so anxious to see you and speak toyou. It would be necessary for me to know exactly what occurredhere last night."Rapidly, but without omitting a single useful detail, Mlle. Gilbertenarrated the scenes of the previous night - the sudden appearance ofM. de Thaller, the arrival of the commissary of police, M. Favoral'sescape, thanks to Maxence's presence of mind. Every one of herfather's words had remained present to her mind; and it was almostliterally that she repeated his strange speeches to his indignantfriends, and his incoherent remarks at the moment of flight, when,whilst acknowledging his fault, he said that he was not as guiltyas they thought; that, at any rate, he was not alone guilty; andthat he had been shamefully sacrificed. When she had finished,"That's exactly what I thought," said M. de Tregars.

"What?""M. Favoral accepted a role in one of those terrible financialdramas which ruin a thousand poor dupes to the benefit of two orthree clever rascals. Your father wanted to be rich: he neededmoney to carry on his intrigues. He allowed himself to be tempted.

But whilst he believed himself one of the managers, called upon todivide the receipts, he was but a scene-shifter with a statedsalary. The moment of this denouement having come, his so-calledpartners disappeared through a trap-door with the cash, leavinghim alone, as they say, to face the music.""If that's the case," replied the young girl, "why didn't my fatherspeak?""What was he to say?""Name his accomplices.""And suppose he had no proofs of their complicity to offer? He wasthe cashier of the Mutual Credit; and it is from his cash that themillions are gone."Mlle. Gilberte's conjectures had run far ahead of that sentence.

Looking straight at Marius,"Then," she said, "you believe, as M. Capelan does, that M. deThaller -""Ah! M. Capelan thinks "-"That the manager of the Mutual Credit must have known the fact ofthe frauds.""And that he had his share of them?""A larger share than his cashier, yes."A singular smile curled M. de Tregars' lips. "Quite possible," hereplied: "that's quite possible."For the past few moments Mlle. Gilberte's embarrassment was quiteevident in her look. At last, overcoming her hesitation,"Pardon me," said she, "I had imagined that M. de Thaller was oneof those men whom you wished to strike; and I had indulged in thehope, that, whilst having justice done to your father, you werethinking, perhaps, of avenging mine."M. de Tregars stood up, as if moved by a spring. "Well, yes!" heexclaimed. "Yes, you have correctly guessed. But how can weobtain this double result? A single misstep at this moment mightlose all. Ah, if I only knew your father's real situation; if Icould only see him and speak to him! In one word he might, perhaps,place in my hands a sure weapon, - the weapon that I have as yetbeen unable to find.""Unfortunately," replied Mlle. Gilberte with a gesture of despair,"we are without news of my father; and he even refused to tell uswhere he expected to take refuge.""But he will write, perhaps. Besides, we might look for him,quietly, so as not to excite the suspicions of the police; and ifyour brother Maxence was only willing to help me -""Alas! I fear that Maxence may have other cares. He insisted upongoing out this morning, in spite of mother's request to the contrary."But Marius stopped her, and, in the tone of a man who knows muchmore than he is willing to say, - "Do not calumniate Maxence," hesaid: "it is through him, perhaps, that we will receive the helpthat we need."Eleven o'clock struck. Mlle. Gilberte started.

"Dear me!" she exclaimed, "mother will be home directly."M. de Tregars might as well have waited for her. Henceforth he hadnothing to conceal. Yet, after duly deliberating with the younggirl, they decided that he should withdraw, and that he would sendM. de Villegre to declare his intentions. He then left, and, fiveminutes later, Mine: Favoral and M. Capelan appeared.

The ex-attorney was furious; and he threw the package of bank-notesupon the table with a movement of rage.

"In order to return them to M. de Thaller," he exclaimed, "it was atleast necessary to see him. But the gentleman is invisible; keepshimself under lock and key, guarded by a perfect cloud of servantsin livery."Meantime, Mme. Favoral had approached her daughter.

"Your brother?" she asked in a whisper.

"He has not yet come home.""Dear me!" sighed the poor mother: "at such a time he forsakes us,and for whose sake?"
Chapter XXV
       Mme. Favoral, usually so indulgent, was too severe this time; andit was very unjustly that she accused her son. She forgot, andwhat 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 andhis duties. Because he happened to leave the house for a few hours,Maxence was surely not forsaking either his mother or his sister.

It was not without a severe internal struggle that he had made uphis mind to go out, and, as he was going down the steps,"Poor mother," he thought. "I am sure I am making her very unhappy;but how can I help it?"This was the first time that he had been in the street since hisfarther's disaster had been known; and the impression produced uponhim was painful in the extreme. Formerly, when he walked throughthe Rue St. Gilles, that street where he was born, and where he usedto play as a boy, every one met him with a friendly nod or a familiarsmile. 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, onhis passage. People whispered among themselves, and pointed himout with looks of hatred and irony. That was because he was nowthe son of the dishonest cashier tracked by the police, of the manwhose crime brought disaster upon so many innocent parties.

Mortified and ashamed, Maxence was hurrying on, his head down, hischeek burning, his throat parched, when, in front of a wine-shop,"Halloo!" said a man; "that's the son. What cheek!"And farther on, in front of the grocer's.

"I tell you what," said a woman in the midst of a group, "they stillhave more than we have."Then, for the first time, he understood with what crushing weighthis father's crime would weigh upon his whole life; and, whilstgoing up the Rue Terrain,"It's all over," he thought: "I can never get over it." And hewas thinking of changing his name, of emigrating to America, andhiding himself in the deserts of the Far West, when, a littlefarther on, he noticed a group of some thirty persons in frontof a newspaper-stand. The vender, a fat little man with a redface and an impudent look, was crying in a hoarse voice,"Here are the morning papers! The last editions! All about therobbery of twelve millions by a poor cashier. Buy the morningpapers!"And, to stimulate the sale of his wares, he added all sorts ofjokes of his own invention, saying that the thief belonged to theneighborhood; that it was quite flattering, etc.

The crowd laughed; and he went on,"The cashier Favoral's robbery! twelve millions! Buy the paper,and see how it's done."And so the scandal was public, irreparable. Maxence was listeninga few steps off. He felt like going; but an imperative feeling,stronger than his will, made him anxious to see what the papers said.

Suddenly he made up his mind, and, stepping up briskly, he threwdown three sous, seized a paper, and ran as if they had all knownhim.

"Not very polite, the gentleman," remarked two idlers whom he hadpushed a little roughly.

Quick as he had been, a shopkeeper of the Rue Terrain had had timeto recognize him.

"Why, that's the cashier's son!" he exclaimed. Is it possible?""Why don't they arrest him?"Half a dozen curious fellows, more eager than the rest, ran afterhim to try and see his face. But he was already far off.

Leaning against a gas-lamp on the Boulevard, he unfolded the paperhe had just bought. He had no trouble looking for the article. Inthe middle of the first page, in the most prominent position, heread in large letters,"At the moment of going to press, the greatest agitation prevailsamong the stock-brokers and operators at the bourse generally,owing to the news that one of our great banking establishmentshas just been the victim of a theft of unusual magnitude.

"At about five o'clock in the afternoon, the manager of theMutual Credit Society, having need of some documents, went tolook for them in the office of the head cashier, who was thenabsent. A memorandum forgotten on the table excited hissuspicions. Sending at once for a locksmith, he had all thedrawers broken open, and soon acquired the irrefutable evidencethat the Mutual Credit had been defrauded of sums, which, as faras now, known, amount to upwards of twelve millions.

"At once the police was notified; and M. Brosse, commissary ofpolice, duly provided with a warrant, called at the guiltycashier's house.

"That cashier, named Favoral, - we do not hesitate to name him,since his name has already been made public, - had just sat downto dinner with some friends. Warned, no one knows how, hesucceeded in escaping through a window into the yard of theadjoining house, and up to this hour has succeeded in eludingall search.

"It seems that these embezzlements had been going on for years,but had been skillfully concealed by false entries.

"M. Favoral had managed to secure the esteem of all who knew him.

He led at home a more than modest existence. But that was only,as it were, his official life. Elsewhere, and under another name,he indulged in the most reckless expenses for the benefit of awoman with whom he was madly in love.

"Who this woman is, is not yet exactly known.

"Some mention a very fascinating young actress, who performs ata theatre not a hundred miles from the Rue Vivienne; others, alady of the financial high life, whose equipages, diamonds, anddresses are justly famed.

"We might easily, in this respect, give particulars which wouldastonish many people; for we know all; but, at the risk ofseeming less well informed than some others of our morningcontemporaries, we will observe a silence which our readers willsurely appreciate. We do not wish to add, by a prematureindiscretion, any thing to the grief of a family already socruelly stricken; for M. Favoral leaves behind him in the deepestsorrow a wife and two children, - a son of twenty-five, employedin a railroad office, and a daughter of twenty, remarkablyhandsome, who, a few months ago, came very near marrying M.

C. -.

Next -"Tears of rage obscured Maxence's sight whilst reading the last fewlines of this terrible article. To find himself thus held up topublic curiosity, though innocent, was more than he could bear.

And yet he was, perhaps, still more surprised than indignant. Hehad just learned in that paper more than his father's most intimatefriends knew, more than he knew himself. Where had it got itsinformation? And what could be these other details which the writerpretended to know, but did not wish to publish as yet? Maxence feltlike running to the office of the paper, fancying that they couldtell him there exactly where and under what name M. Favoral led thatexistence of pleasure and luxury, and who the woman was to whom thearticle alluded.

But in the mean time he had reached his hotel, - the Hotel desFolies. After a moment of hesitation,"Bash!" he thought, "I have the whole day to call at the office ofthe paper.

And he started in the corridor of the hotel, a corridor that was solong, so dark, and so narrow, that it gave an idea of the shaft ofa mine, and that it was prudent, before entering it, to make surethat no one was coming in the opposite direction. It was from theneighboring theatre, des Folies-Nouvelles (now the Theatre Dejazet),that the hotel had taken its name.

It consists of the rear building of a large old house, and has nofrontage on the Boulevard, where nothing betrays its existence,except a lantern hung over a low and narrow door, between a cafand a confectionery-shop. It is one of those hotels, as there area good many in Paris, somewhat mysterious and suspicious, ill-kept,and whose profits remain a mystery for simple-minded folks. Whooccupy the apartments of the first and second story? No one knows.

Never have the most curious of the neighbors discovered the faceof a tenant. And yet they are occupied; for often, in theafternoon, a curtain is drawn aside, and a shadow is seen to move.

In the evening, lights are noticed within; and sometimes the soundof a cracked old piano is heard.

Above the second story, the mystery ceases. All the upper rooms,the price of which is relatively modest, are occupied by tenantswho may be seen and heard, - clerks like Maxence, shop-girls fromthe neighborhood, a few restaurant-waiters, and sometimes some poordevil of an actor or chorus-singer from the Theatre Dejazet, theCircus, or the Chateau d'Eau. One of the great advantages of theHotel des Folies - and Mme. Fortin, the landlady, never failed topoint it out to the new tenants, an inestimable advantage, shedeclared - was a back entrance on the Rue Beranger.

"And everybody knows," she concluded, "that there is no chance ofbeing caught, when one has the good luck of living in a house thathas two outlets."When Maxence entered the office, a small, dark, and dirty room,the proprietors, M. and Mme. Fortin were just finishing theirbreakfast with an immense bowl of coffee of doubtful color, ofwhich an enormous red cat was taking a share.

"Ah, here is M. Favoral!" they exclaimed.

There was no mistaking their tone. They knew the catastrophe;and the newspaper lying on the table showed how they had heard it.

"Some one called to see you last night," said Mme. Fortin, a largefat woman, whose nose was always besmeared with snuff, and whosehoneyed voice made a marked contrast with her bird-of-prey look.

"Who?""A gentleman of about fifty, tall and thin, with a long overcoat,coming down to his heels."Maxence imagined, from this description, that he recognized his ownfather. And yet it seemed impossible, after what had happened, thathe should dare to show himself on the Boulevard du Temple, whereeverybody knew him, within a step of the Caf Turc, of which hewas one of the oldest customers.

"At what o'clock was he here?" he inquired.

"I really can't tell," answered the landlady. "I was half asleepat the time; but Fortin can tell us."M. Fortin, who looked about twenty years younger than his wife, wasone of those small men, blonde, with scanty beard, a suspiciousglance, and uneasy smile, such as the Madame Fortins know how, tofind, Heaven knows where.

"The confectioner had just put up his shutters," he replied:

"consequently, it must have been between eleven and a quarter-pasteleven.""And didn't he leave any word?" said Maxence.

"Nothing, except that he was very sorry not to find you in. And,in fact, he did look quite annoyed. We asked him to leave his name;but he said it wasn't worth while, and that he would call again."At the glance which the landlady was throwing toward him from thecorner of her eyes, Maxence understood that she had on the subjectof that late visitor the same suspicion as himself.

And, as if she had intended to make it more apparent still,"I ought, perhaps, to have given him your key," she said.

"And why so, pray?""Oh! I don't know, an idea of mine, that's all. Besides, Mlle.

Lucienne can probably tell you more about it; for she was therewhen the gentleman came, and I even think that they exchanged afew words in the yard."Maxence, seeing that they were only seeking a pretext to questionhim, took his key, and inquired,"Is - Mlle. Lucienne at home?""Can't tell. She has been going and coming all the morning, andI don't know whether she finally staid in or out. One thing issure, she waited for you last night until after twelve; and shedidn't like it much, I can tell you."Maxence started up the steep stairs; and, as he reached the upperstories, a woman's voice, fresh and beautifully toned, reached hisears more and more distinctly.

She was singing a popular tune, - one of those songs which aremonthly put in circulation by the singing cafes"To hope! 0 charming word,Which, during all life,Husband and children and wifeRepeat in common accord!

When the moment of successFrom us ever further slips,'Tis Hope from its rosy lipsWhispers, To-morrow you will bless.

'Tis very nice to run,But to have is better fun.""She is in," murmured Maxence, breathing more freely.

Reaching the fourth story, he stopped before the door which facedthe stairs, and knocked lightly.

At once, the voice, which had just commenced another verse stoppedshort, and inquired, "Who's there?""I, Maxence!""At this hour!" replied the voice with an ironical laugh. "That'slucky. You have probably forgotten that we were to go to thetheatre last night, and start for St. Germain at seven o'clockthis morning.""Don't you know then?" Maxence began, as soon as he could put in aword.

"I know that you did not come home last night.""Quite true. But when I have told you -""What? the lie you have imagined? Save yourself the trouble.""Lucienne, I beg of you, open the door.""Impossible, I am dressing. Go to your own room: as soon as I amdressed, I'll join you."And, to cut short all these explanations, she took up her song again:

"Hope, I've waited but too longFor thy manna divine!

I've drunk enough of thy wine,And I know thy siren song:

Waiting for a lucky turn,I have wasted my best days:

Take up thy magic-lanternAnd elsewhere display its rays.

Tis very nice to run,But to have is better fun!"
Chapter XXVI
       It was on the opposite side of the landing that what Mme. Fortinpompously called" Maxence's apartment" was situated.

It consisted of a sort of antechamber, almost as large as ahandkerchief (decorated by the Fortins with the name of dining-room),a bedroom, and a closet called a dressing-room in the lease.

Nothing could be more gloomy than this lodging, in which the raggedpaper and soiled paint retained the traces of all the wanderers whohad occupied it since the opening of the Hotel des Folies. Thedislocated ceiling was scaling off in large pieces; the floorseemed affected with the dry-rot; and the doors and windows wereso much warped and sprung, that it required an effort to close them.

The furniture was on a par with the rest.

"How everything does wear out!" sighed Mme. Fortin. "It isn't tenyears since I bought that furniture."In point of fact it was over fifteen, and even then she had boughtit secondhanded, and almost unfit for use. The curtains retainedbut a vague shade of their original color. The veneer was almostentirely off the bedstead. Not a single lock was in order, whetherin the bureau or the secretary. The rug had become a nameless rag;and the broken springs of the sofa, cutting through the threadbarestuff, stood up threateningly like knife-blades.

The most sumptuous object was an enormous China stove, whichoccupied almost one-half of the hall-dining-room. It could not beused to make a fire; for it had no pipe. Nevertheless, Mme. Fortinrefused obstinately to take it out, under the pretext that it gavesuch a comfortable appearance to the apartment. All this elegancecost Maxence forty-five francs a month, and five francs for theservice; the whole payable in advance from the 1st to the 3d ofthe month. If, on the 4th, a tenant came in without money, Mme.

Fortin squarely refused him his key, and invited him to seekshelter elsewhere.

"I have been caught too often," she replied to those who tried toobtain twenty-four hours' grace from her. "I wouldn't trust myown father till the 5th, he who was a superior officer in Napoleon'sarmies, and the very soul of honor."It was chance alone which had brought Maxence, after the Commune,to the Hotel des Folies; and he had not been there a week, beforehe had fully made up his mind not to wear out Mme. Fortin'sfurniture very long. He had even already found another and moresuitable lodging, when, about a year ago, a certain meeting onthe stairs had modified all his views, and lent a charm to hisapartment which he did not suspect.

As he was going out one morning to his office, he met on the verylanding a rather tall and very dark girl, who had just comerunning up stairs. She passed before him like a flash, openedthe opposite door, and disappeared. But, rapid as the apparitionhad been, it had left in Maxence's mind one of those impressionswhich are never obliterated. He could not think of any thingelse the whole day; and after business-hours, instead of going todine in Rue St. Gilles, as usual, he sent a despatch to his motherto tell her not to wait for him, and bravely went home.

But it was in vain, that, during the whole evening, he kept watchbehind his door, left slyly ajar: he did not get a glimpse of theneighbor. Neither did she show herself on the next or the threefollowing days; and Maxence was beginning to despair, when at last,on Sunday, as he was going down stairs, he met her again face toface. He had thought her quite pretty at the first glance: thistime he was dazzled to that extent, that he remained for over aminute, standing like a statue against the wall.

And certainly it was not her dress that helped setting off herbeauty. She wore a poor dress of black merino, a narrow collar,and plain cuffs, and a bonnet of the utmost simplicity. She hadnevertheless an air of incomparable dignity, a grace that charmed,and yet inspired respect, and the carriage of a queen. This wason the 30th of July. As he was handing in his key, before leaving,"My apartment suits me well enough," said Maxence to Mme. Fortin:

"I shall keep it. And here are fifty francs for the month of August."And, while the landlady was making out a receipt,"You never told me," he began with his most indifferent look, "thatI had a neighbor."Mme. Fortin straightened herself up like an old warhorse that hearsthe sound of the bugle.

"Yes, yes!" she said, -" Mademoiselle Lucienne.""Lucienne," repeated Maxence: "that's a pretty name.""Have you seen her?""I have just seen her. She's rather good looking."The worthy landlady jumped on her chair. "Rather good looking!"she interrupted. "You must be hard to please, my dear sir; for I,who am a judge, I affirm that you might hunt Paris over for fourwhole days without finding such a handsome girl. Rather goodlooking! A girl who has hair that comes down to her knees, adazzling complexion, eyes as big as this, and teeth whiter thanthat cat's. All right, my friend. You'll wear out more than onepair of boots running after women before you catch one like her."That was exactly Maxence's opinion; and yet with his coldest look,"Has she been long your tenant, dear Mme. Fortin?" he asked.

"A little over a year. She was here during the siege; and justthen, as she could not pay her rent, I was, of course, going tosend her off; but she went straight to the commissary of police,who came here, and forbade me to turn out either her or anybodyelse. As if people were not masters in their own house!""That was perfectly absurd!" objected Maxence, who was determinedto gain the good graces of the landlady.

"Never heard of such a thing!" she went on. "Compel you to lodgepeople free! Why not feed them too? In short, she remained solong, that, after the Commune, she owed me a hundred and eightyfrancs. Then she said, that, if I would let her stay, she wouldpay me each month in advance, besides the rent, ten francs on theold account. I agreed, and she has already paid up twenty francs.""Poor girl!" said Maxence.

But Mme. Fortin shrugged her shoulders.

"Really," she replied, "I don't pity her much; for, if she onlywanted, in forty-eight hours I should be paid, and she would havesomething else on her back besides that old black rag. I tell herevery day, 'In these days, my child, there is but one reliablefriend, which is better than all others, and which must be taken asit comes, without making any faces if it is a little dirty: that'smoney.' But all my preaching goes for nothing. I might as wellsing."Maxence was listening with intense delight.

"In short, what does she do?" he asked.

"That's more than I know," replied Mme. Fortin. "The young ladyhas not much to say. All I know is, that she leaves every morningbright and early, and rarely gets home before eleven. On Sundayshe stays home, reading; and sometimes, in the evening, she goesout, always alone, to some theatre or ball. Ah! she is an oddone, I tell you!"A lodger who came in interrupted the landlady; and Maxence walkedoff dreaming how he could manage to make the acquaintance of hispretty and eccentric neighbor.

Because he had once spent some hundreds of napoleons in the companyof young ladies with yellow chignons, Maxence fancied himself a manof experience, and had but little faith in the virtue of a girl oftwenty, living alone in a hotel, and left sole mistress of her ownfancy. 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.

But, the first time he ventured to make love to her, she looked athim head to foot, and turned her back upon him with so much contempt,that he remained, his mouth wide open, perfectly stupefied.

"I am losing my time like a fool," he thought.

Great, then, was his surprise, when the following week, on a fineafternoon, he saw Mlle. Lucienne leave her room, no longer clad inher eternal black dress, but wearing a brilliant and extremely richtoilet. With a beating heart he followed her.

In front of the Hotel des Folies stood a handsome carriage andhorses.

As soon as Mlle. Lucienne appeared, a footman opened respectfullythe carriage-door. She went in; and the horses started at a fulltrot.

Maxence watched the carriage disappear in the distance, like achild who sees the bird fly upon which he hoped to lay hands.

"Gone," he muttered, "gone!"But, when he turned around, he found himself face to face with theFortins, man and wife; who were laughing a sinister laugh.

"What did I tell you?" exclaimed Mine Fortin. "There she is,started at last. Get up, horse! She'll do well, the child."The magnificent equipage and elegant dress had already producedquite an effect among the neighbors. The customers sitting in frontof the caf were laughing among themselves. The confectioner andhis wife were casting indignant glances at the proprietors of theHotel des Folies.

"You see, M. Favoral," replied Mme. Fortin, "such a girl as thatwas not made for our neighborhood. You must make up your mind toit; you won't see much more of her on the Boulevard du Temple."Without saying a word, Maxence ran to his room, the hot tearsstreaming from his eyes. He felt ashamed of himself; for, afterall, what was this girl to him?.

She is gone!" he repeated to himself. "Well, good-by, let her go!"But, despite all his efforts at philosophy, he felt an immensesadness invading his heart: ill-defined regrets and spasms of angeragitated him. He was thinking what a fool he had been to believein the grand airs of the young lady, and that, if he had had dressesand horses to give her, she might not have received him so harshly.

At last he made up his mind to think no more of her, - one of thosefine resolutions which are always taken, and never kept; and in theevening he left his room to go and dine in the Rue St. Gilles.

But, as was often his custom, he stopped at the caf next door, andcalled for a drink. He was mixing his absinthe when he saw thecarriage that had carried off Mlle. Lucienne in the morning returningat a rapid gait, and stopping short in front of the hotel. Mlle.

Lucienne got out slowly, crossed the sidewalk, and entered thenarrow corridor. Almost immediately, the carriage turned around,and drove off.

"What does it mean?" thought Maxence, who was actually forgettingto swallow his absinthe.

He was losing himself in absurd conjectures, when, some fifteenminutes later, he saw the girl coming out again. Already she hadtaken off her elegant clothes, and resumed her cheap black dress.

She had a basket on her arm, and was going towards the Rue Chariot.

Without further reflections, Maxence rose suddenly, and started tofollow her, being very careful that she should not see him. Afterwalking for five or six minutes, she entered a shop, half-eatinghouse, and half wine-shop, in the window of which a large signcould be read: "Ordinary at all hours for forty centimes. Hardboiled eggs, and salad of the season."Maxence, having crept up as close as he could, saw Mlle. Luciennetake a tin box out of her basket, and have what is called an"ordinaire" poured into it; that is, half a pint of soup, a pieceof beef as large as the fist, and a few vegetables. She then hada small bottle half-filled with wine, paid, and walked out withthat same look of grave dignity which she always wore.

"Funny dinner," murmured Maxence, "for a woman who was spreadingherself just now in a ten-thousand-franc carriage."From that moment she became the sole and only object of his thoughts.

A passion, which he no longer attempted to resist, was penetratinglike a subtle poison to the innermost depths of his being. Hethought himself happy, when, after watching for hours, he caught aglimpse of this singular creature, who, after that extraordinaryexpedition, seemed to have resumed her usual mode of life. Mme.

Fortin was dumfounded.

"She has been too exacting," she said to Maxence, "and the thinghas fallen through."He made no answer. He felt a perfect horror for the honorablelandlady's insinuations; and yet he never ceased to repeat tohimself that he must be a great simpleton to have faith for amoment in that young lady's virtue. What would he not have givento be able to question her? But he dared not. Often he wouldgather up his courage, and wait for her on the stairs; but, assoon as she fixed upon him her great black eye, all the phraseshe had prepared took flight from his brain, his tongue clove tohis mouth, and he could barely succeed in stammering out a timid,"Good-morning, mademoiselle."He felt so angry with himself, that he was almost on the point ofleaving the Hotel des Folies, when one evening:

"Well," said Mme. Fortin to him, "all is made up again, it seems.

The beautiful carriage called again to-day."Maxence could have beaten her.

"What good would it do you," he replied, "if Lucienne were to turnout badly?""It's always a pleasure," she grumbled, "to have one more woman totorment the men. Those are the girls, you see, who avenge us poorhonest women!"The sequel seemed at first to justify her worst previsions. Threetimes during that week, Mlle. Lucienne rode out in grand style; butas she always returned, and always resumed her eternal black woolendress,"I can't make head or tail of it," thought Maxence. But never mind,I'll clear the matter up yet."He applied, and obtained leave of absence; and from the very nextday he took up a position behind the window of the adjoining caf .

On the first day he lost his time; but on the second day, at aboutthree o'clock, the famous equipage made its appearance; and, a fewmoments later, Mlle. Lucienne took a seat in it. Her toilet wasricher, and more showy still, than the first time. Maxence jumpedinto a cab.

"You see that carriage," he said to the coachman, "Wherever itgoes, you must follow it. I give ten francs extra pay.""All right!" replied the driver, whipping up his horses.

And much need he had, too, of whipping them; for the carriage thatcarried off Mlle. Lucienne started at full trot down the Boulevards,to the Madeleine, then along the Rue Royale, and through the Placede la Concorde, to the Avenue des Champs-E1ysees, where the horseswere brought down to a walk. It was the end of September, and oneof those lovely autumnal days which are a last smile of the bluesky and the last caress of the sun.

There were races in the Bois de Boulogne; and the equipages werefive and six abreast on the avenue. The side-alleys were crowdedwith idlers. Maxence, from the inside of his cab, never lost sightof Mlle. Lucienne.

She was evidently creating a sensation. The men stopped to lookat her with gaping admiration: the women leaned out of theircarriages to see her better.

"Where can she be going?" Maxence wondered.

She was going to the Bois; and soon her carriage joined theinterminable line of equipages which were following the grand driveat a walk. It became easier now to follow on foot. Maxence sentoff his cab to wait for him at a particular spot, and took thepedestrians' road, that follows the edge of the lakes. He hadnot gone fifty steps, however, before he heard some one call him.

He turned around, and, within two lengths of his cane, saw M. SaintPavin and M. Costeclar. Maxence hardly knew M. Saint Pavin, whomhe had only seen two or three times in the Rue St. Gilles, andexecrated M. Costeclar. Still he advanced towards them.

Mlle. Lucienne's carriage was now caught in the file; and he wassure of joining it whenever he thought proper.

"It is a miracle to see you here, my dear Maxence!" exclaimed M.

Costeclar, loud enough to attract the attention of several persons.

To occupy the attention of others, anyhow and at any cost, was M.

Costeclar's leading object in life.. That was evident from thestyle of his dress, the shape of his hat, the bright stripes of hisshirt, his ridiculous shirt-collar, his cuffs, his boots, his gloves,his cane, every thing, in fact.

"If you see us on foot," he added, "it is because we wanted to walka little. The doctor's prescription, my dear. My carriage isyonder, behind those trees. Do you recognize my dapple-grays?"And he extended his cane in that direction, as if he were addressinghimself, not to Maxence alone, but to all those who were passing by.

"Very well, very well! everybody knows you have a carriage,"interrupted M. Saint Pavin.

The editor of "The Financial Pilot" was the living contrast of hiscompanion. More slovenly still than M. Costeclar was careful ofhis dress, he exhibited cynically a loose cravat rolled over a shirtworn two or three days, a coat white with lint and plush, muddyboots, though it had not rained for a week, and large red hands,surprisingly filthy.

He was but the more proud ; and he wore, cocked up to one side, ahat that had not known a brush since the day it had left the hatter's.

"That fellow Costeclar," he went on, "he won't believe that thereare in France a number of people who live and die without everhaving owned a horse or a coupe; which is a fact, nevertheless.

Those fellows who were born with fifty or sixty thousand francs'

income in their baby-clothes are all alike."The unpleasant intention was evident; but M. Costeclar was not theman to get angry for such a trifle.

"You are in bad humor to-day, old fellow," he said. The editor of"The Financial Pilot" made a threatening gesture.

"Well, yes," he answered, "I am in bad humor, like a man who forten years past has been beating the drum in front of your d--dfinancial shops, and who does not pay expenses. Yes, for ten yearsI have shouted myself hoarse for your benefit: 'Walk in, ladies andgentlemen, and, for every twenty-cent-piece you deposit with us,we will return you a five-franc-piece. Walk in, follow the crowd,step up to the office: this is the time.' They go in. You receivemountains of twenty-cent-pieces: you never return anything, neithera five-franc-piece, nor even a centime. The trick is done, thepublic is sold. You drive your own carriage; you suspend diamondsto your mistress' ears; and I, the organizer of success, whose puffsopen the tightest closed pockets, and start up the old louis fromthe bottom of the old woolen stocking, - I am driven to have my bootshalf-soled. You stint me my existence; you kick as soon as I askyou to pay for the big drums bursted in your beha1f"He spoke so loud, that three or four idlers had stopped. Withoutbeing very shrewd, Maxence understood readily that he had happenedin the midst of an acrimonious discussion. Closely pressed, anddesirous of gaining time, M. Costeclar had called him in the hopesof effecting a diversion.

Bowing, therefore, politely,"Excuse me, gentlemen," he-said: "I fear I have interrupted you."But M. Costeclar detained him.

"Don't go," he declared; "you must come down and take a glass ofMadeira with us, down at the Cascade."And, turning to the editor of "The Pilot":

"Come, now, shut up," he said: "you shall have what you want.""Really?""Upon my word.""I'd rather have two or three lines in black and white.""I'll give them to you to-night.""All right, then! Forward the big guns! Look out for next Sunday'snumber!"Peace being made, the gentlemen continued their walk in the mostfriendly manner, M. Costeclar pointing out to Maxence all thecelebrities who were passing by them in their carriages.

He had just designated to his attention Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller,accompanied by two gigantic footmen, when, suddenly interruptinghimself, and rising on tiptoe,"Sacre bleu!" he exclaimed: "what a handsome woman!"Without too much affectation, Maxence fell back a step or two. Hefelt himself blushing to his very ears, and trembled lest his suddenemotion were noticed, and he were questioned; for it was Mlle.

Lucienne who thus excited M. Costeclar's noisy enthusiasm. Oncealready she had been around the lake; and she was continuingher circular drive.

"Positively," approved the editor of "The Financial Pilot," "she issomewhat better than the rest of those ladies we have just seengoing by."M. Costeclar was on the point of pulling out what little hair hehad left.

"And I don't know her!" he went on. "A lovely woman rides in theBois, and I don't know who she is! That is ridiculous andprodigious! Who can post us?"A little ways off stood a group of gentlemen, who had also just lefttheir carriages, and were looking on this interminable procession ofequipages and this amazing display of toilets.

"They are friends of mine," said M. Costeclar: "let us join them."They did so; and, after the usual greetings,"Who is that?" inquired M. Costeclar, - "that dark person, whosecarriage follows Mme. de Thaller's?"An old young man, with scanty hair, dyed beard, and a most impudentsmile, answered him,"That's just what we are trying to find out. None of us have everseen her.""I must and shall find out," interrupted M. Costeclar. "I have avery intelligent servant"Already he was starting in the direction of the spot where hiscarriage was waiting for him. The old beau stopped him.

Don't bother yourself, my dear friend," he said. " I have also aservant who is no fool; and he has had orders for over fifteenminutes."The others burst out laughing.

"Distanced, Costeclar!" exclaimed M. Saint Pavin, who,notwithstanding his slovenly dress and cynic manners, seemedperfectly well received.

No one was now paying any attention to Maxence; and he slipped offwithout the slightest care as to what M. Costeclar might think.

Reaching the spot where his cab awaited him,"Which way, boss?" inquired the driver. Maxence hesitated. Whatbetter had he to do than to go home? And yet...

"We'll wait for that same carriage," he answered; and we'll followit on the return."But he learned nothing further. Mlle. Lucienne drove straight tothe Boulevard du Temple, and, as before, immediately resumed hereternal black dress; and Maxence saw, her go to the little restaurantfor her modest dinner.

But he saw something else too.

Almost on the heels of the girl, a servant in livery entered the hotelcorridor, and only went off after remaining a full quarter of an hourin busy conference with Mme. Fortin.

"It's all over," thought the poor fellow. "Lucienne will not bemuch longer my neighbor."He was mistaken. A month went by without bringing about any change.

As in the past, she went out early, came home late, and on Sundaysremained alone all day in her room. Once or twice a week, when theweather was fine, the carriage came for her at about three o'clock,and brought her home at nightfall. Maxence had exhausted allconjectures, when one evening, it was the 31st of October, as hewas coming in to go to bed, he heard a loud sound of voices in theoffice of the hotel. Led by an instinctive curiosity, he approachedon tiptoe, so as to see and hear every thing. The Fortins and Mlle.

Lucienne were having a great discussion.

"That's all nonsense," shrieked the worthy, landlady; "and I meanto be paid."Mlle. Lucienne was quite calm.

"Well," she replied: "don't I pay you? Here are forty francs,- thirty in advance for my room, and ten on the old account.""I don't want your ten francs!""What do you want, then?""Ah, - the hundred and fifty francs which you owe me still."The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"You forget our agreement," she uttered.

"Our agreement?""Yes. After the Commune, it was understood that I would give youten francs a month on the old account; as long as I give them toyou, you have nothing to ask."Crimson with rage, Mme. Fortin had risen from her seat.

"Formerly," she interrupted, "I presumed I had to deal with a poorworking-girl, an honest girl."Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the insult.

"I have not the amount you ask," she said coldly.

"Well, then," vociferated the other, "you must go and ask it ofthose who pay for your carriages and your dresses."Still impassible, the girl, instead of answering, stretched herhand towards her key; but M. Fortin stopped her arm.

"No, no!" he said with a giggle. "People who don't pay theirhotel-bill sleep out, my darling."Maxence, that very morning, had received his month's pay, and hefelt, as it were, his two hundred francs trembling in his pockets.

Yielding to a sudden inspiration, he threw open the office-door,and, throwing down one hundred and fifty francs upon the table,"Here is your money, wretch!" he exclaimed. And he withdrew atonce.
Chapter XXVII
　　Maxence had not spoken to Mlle. Lucienne for nearly a month. Hetried to persuade himself that she despised him because he was poor.

He kept watching for her, for he could not help it; but as much aspossible he avoided her.

"I shall be miserable," he thought, "the day when she does not comehome; and yet it would be the very best thing that could happenfor me."Nevertheless, he spent all his time trying to find some explanationsfor the conduct of this strange girl, who, beneath her woolen dress,had the haughty manners of a great lady. Then he delighted toimagine between her and himself some of those subjects of confidence,some of those facilities which chance never fails to supply toattentive passion, or some event which would enable him to emergefrom his obscurity, and to acquire some rights by virtue of somegreat service rendered.

But never had he dared to hope for an occasion as propitious as theone he had just seized. And yet, after he had returned to his room,he hardly dared to congratulate himself upon the promptitude of hisdecision. He knew too well Mlle. Lucienne's excessive pride andsensitive nature.

"I should not be surprised if she were angry with me for what I'vedone," he thought.

The evening being quite chilly, he had lighted a few sticks; and,sitting by the fireside, he was waiting, his mind filled with vaguehopes. It seemed to him that his neighbor could not absolve herselffrom coming to thank him; and he was listening intently to all thenoises of the house, starting at the sound of footsteps on thestairs, and at the slamming of doors. Ten times, at least, he wentout on tiptoe to lean out of the window on the landing, to make surethat there was no light in Mlle. Lucienne's room. At eleven o'clockshe had not yet come home; and he was deliberating whether he wouldnot start out in quest of information, when there was a knock at thedoor.

"Come in! "he cried, in a voice choked with emotion. Mlle. Luciennecame in. She was somewhat paler than usual, but calm and perfectlyself-possessed. Having bowed without the slightest shade ofembarrassment, she laid upon the mantel-piece the thirtyfive-franc-notes which Maxence had thrown down to the Fortins; and,in her most natural tone,"Here are your hundred and fifty francs, sir," she uttered. "I ammore grateful than I can express for your prompt kindness in lendingthem to me; but I did not need them."Maxence had risen from his seat, and was making every effort tocontrol his own feelings.

"Still," he began, "after what I heard""Yes," she interrupted, "Mme. Fortin and her husband were trying tofrighten me. But they were losing their time. When, after theCommune, I settled with them the manner in which I would dischargemy debt towards them, having a just estimate of their worth, Imade them write out and sign our agreement. Being in the right, Icould resist them, and was resisting them when you threw them thosehundred and fifty francs. Having laid hands upon them, they had thepretension to keep them. That's what I could not suffer. Not beingable to recover them by main force, I went at once to the commissaryof police. He was luckily at his office. He is an honest man, whoalready, once before, helped me out of a scrape. He listened to mekindly, and was moved by my explanations. Notwithstanding thelateness of the hour, he put on his overcoat, and came with me tosee our landlord. After compelling them to return me your money, hesignified to them to observe strictly our agreement, under penaltyof incurring his utmost severity."Maxence was wonderstruck.

"How could you dare?" he said.

"Wasn't I in the right?

"Oh, a thousand times yes! Still""What? Should my right be less respected because I am but a woman?

And, because I have no one to protect me, am I outside the law, andcondemned in advance to suffer the iniquitous fancies of everyscoundrel? No, thank Heaven! Henceforth I shall feel easy. Peoplelike the Fortins, who live of I know not what shameful traffic, havetoo much to fear from the police to dare to molest me further."The resentment of the insult could be read in her great black eyes;and a bitter disgust contracted her lips.

"Besides," she added, "the commissary had no need of my explanationsto understand what abject inspirations the Fortins were following.

The wretches had in their pocket the wages of their infamy. Inrefusing me my key, in throwing me out in the street at ten o'clockat night, they hoped to drive me to seek the assistance of the basecoward who paid their odious treason. And we know the price whichmen demand for the slightest service they render to a woman."Maxence turned pale. The idea flashed upon his mind that it was tohim, perhaps, that these last words were addressed.

"Ah, I swear it! "he exclaimed, "it is without after-thought thatI tried to help you. You do not owe me any thanks even.""I do not thank you any the less, though," she said gently, "andfrom the bottom of my heart""It was so little!

"Intention alone makes the value of a service, neighbor. And,besides, do not say that a hundred and fifty francs are nothing toyou: perhaps you do not earn much more each month.""I confess it," he said, blushing a little.

"You see, then? No, it was not to you that my words were addressed,but to the man who has paid the Fortins. He was waiting on theBoulevard, the result of the manoeuvre, which, they thought, wasabout to place me at his mercy. He ran quickly to me when I wentout, and followed me all the way to the office of the commissaryof police, as he follows me everywhere for the past month, with hissickening gallantries and his degrading propositions."The eye flashing with anger,"Ab, if I had known! " exclaimed Maxence. "If you had told me buta word!"She smiled at his vehemence.

"What would you have done? " she said. "You cannot impartintelligence to a fool, heart to a coward, or delicacy of feelingto a boor.""I could have chastised the miserable insulter."She had a superb gesture of indifference.

"Bash!" she interrupted. "What are insults to me? I am soaccustomed to them, that they no longer have any effect upon me.

I am eighteen: I have neither family, relatives, friends, nor anyone in the world who even knows my existence; and I live by mylabor. Can't you see what must be the humiliations of each day?

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. Can youunderstand what I have endured, to what ignominies I have beenexposed, what traps have been set for me, and how it has happenedto me sometimes to owe my safety to mere physical force? And yetI do not complain, since through it all I have been able to retainthe respect of myself, and to remain virtuous in spite of all."She was laughing a laugh that had something wild in it.

And, as Maxence was looking at her with immense surprise,"That seems strange to you, doesn't it?" she resumed. "A girl ofeighteen, without a sou, free as air, very pretty, and yet virtuousin the midst of Paris. Probably you don't believe it, or, if youdo, you just think, 'What on earth does she make by it?'

"And really you are right; for, after all, who cares, and who thinksany the more of me, if I work sixteen hours a day to remain virtuous?

But it's a fancy of my own; and don't imagine for a moment that I amdeterred by any scruples, or by timidity, or ignorance. No, no!

I believe in nothing. I fear nothing; and I know as much as theoldest libertines, the most vicious, and the most depraved. And Idon't say that I have not been tempted sometimes, when, coming homefrom work, I'd see some of them coming out of the restaurants,splendidly dressed, on their lover's arm, and getting into carriagesto go to the theatre. There were moments when I was cold and hungry,and when, not knowing where to sleep, I wandered all night throughthe streets like a lost dog. There were hours when I felt sick ofall this misery, and when I said to myself, that, since it was myfate to end in the hospital, I might as well make the trip gayly.

But what! I should have had to traffic my person, to sell myself!"She shuddered, and in a hoarse voice,"I would rather die," she said.

It was difficult to reconcile words such as these with certaincircumstances of Mlle. Lucienne's existence, - her rides around thelake, for instance, in that carriage that came for her two or threetimes a week; her ever renewed costumes, each time more eccentricand more showy. But Maxence was not thinking of that. What shetold him he accepted as absolutely true and indisputable. And hefelt penetrated with an almost religious admiration for this youngand beautiful girl, possessed of so much vivid energy, who alone,through the hazards, the perils, and the temptations of Paris, hadsucceeded in protecting and defending herself.

"And yet," he said, "without suspecting it, you had a friend nearyou."She shuddered; and a pale smile flitted upon her lips. She knewwell enough what friendship means between a youth of twenty-fiveand a girl of eighteen.

"A friend!" she murmured.

Maxence guessed her thought; and, in all the sincerity of his soul,"Yes, a friend," he repeated, "a comrade, a brother." And thinkingto touch her, and gain her confidence,"I could understand you," he added; "for I, too, have been veryunhappy."But he was singularly mistaken. She looked at him with an astonishedair, and slowly,"You unhappy!" she uttered, - "you who have a family, relations, amother who adores you, a sister." Less excited, Maxence might havewondered how she had found this out, and would have concluded thatshe must feel some interest in him, since she had doubtless takenthe trouble of getting information.

"Besides, you are a man," she went on; "and I do not understand howa man can complain. Have you not the freedom, the strength, and theright to undertake and to dare any thing? Isn't the world open toyour activity and to your ambition? Woman submits to her fate: manmakes his."This was hurting the dearest pretensions of Maxence, who seriouslythought that he had exhausted the rigors of adversity.

" There are circumstances," he began.

But she shrugged her shoulders gently, and, interrupting him,"Do not insist," she said, "or else I might think that you lackenergy. What are you talking of circumstances? There are noneso adverse but that can be overcome. What would you like, then?

To be born with a hundred thousand francs a year, and have nothingto do but to live according to your whim of each day, idle, satiated,a burden upon yourself, useless, or offensive to others? Ah! If Iwere a man, I would dream of another fate. I should like to startfrom the Foundling Asylum, without a name, and by my will, myintelligence, my daring, and my labor, make something and somebodyof myself. I would start from nothing, and become every thing!"With flashing eyes and quivering nostrils, she drew herself upproudly. But almost at once, dropping her head,"The misfortune is," she added, "that I am but a woman; and you whocomplain, if you only knew "She sat down, and with her elbow on the little table, her headresting upon her hand, she remained lost in her meditations, hereyes fixed, as if following through space all the phases of theeighteen years of her life.

There is no energy but unbends at some given moment, no will buthas its hour of weakness; and, strong and energetic as was Mlle.

Lucienne, she had been deeply touched by Maxence's act. Had she,then, found at last upon her path the companion of whom she hadoften dreamed in the despairing hours of solitude and wretchedness?

After a few moments, she raised her head, and, looking intoMaxence's eyes with a gaze that made him quiver like the shock ofan electric battery,"Doubtless," she said, in a tone of indifference somewhat forced,"you think you have in me a strange neighbor. Well, as betweenneighbors; it is well to know each other. Before you judge me,listen."The recommendation was useless. Maxence was listening with allthe powers of his attention.

"I was brought up," she began, "in a village of the neighborhood ofParis, - in Louveciennes. My mother had put me out to nurse withsome honest gardeners, poor, and burdened with a large family.

After two months, hearing nothing of my mother, they wrote toher: she made no answer. They then went to Paris, and called atthe address she had given them. She had just moved out; and no oneknew what had become of her. They could no longer, therefore,expect a single sou for the cares they would bestow upon me. Theykept me, nevertheless, thinking that one child the more would notmake much difference. I know nothing of my parents, therefore,except what I heard through these kind gardeners; and, as I wasstill quite young when I had the misfortune to lose them, I havebut a very vague remembrance of what they told me. I remember verywell, however, that according to their statements, my mother was ayoung working-woman of rare beauty, and that, very likely, she wasnot my father's wife. If I was ever told the name of my mother ormy father, if I ever knew it, I have quite forgotten it. I hadmyself no name. My adopted parents called me the Parisian. I washappy, nevertheless, with these kind people, and treated exactlylike their own children. In winter, they sent me to school; insummer, I helped weeding the garden. I drove a sheep or two alongthe road, or else I went to gather violets and strawberriesthrough the woods.

"This was the happiest, indeed, the only happy time of my life,towards which my thoughts may turn when I feel despair anddiscouragement getting the better of me. Alas! I was but eight,when, within the same week, the gardener and his wife were bothcarried off by the same disease, - inflammation of the lungs.

"On a freezing December morning, in that house upon which the handof death had just fallen, we found ourselves, six children, theoldest of whom was not eleven, crying with grief, fright, cold,and hunger.

"Neither the gardener nor his wife had any relatives; and theyleft nothing but a few wretched pieces of furniture, the sale ofwhich barely sufficed to pay the expenses of their funeral. Thetwo younger children were taken to an asylum: the others were takencharge of by the neighbors.

"It was a laundress of Marly who took me. I was quite tall andstrong for my age. She made an apprentice of me. She was notunkind by nature; but she was violent and brutal in the extreme.

She compelled me to do an excessive amount of work, and often of akind above my strength.

"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 soiledclothes from the customers. I did not complain (I was already tooproud to complain); but, if I was ordered to do something that seemedto me too unjust, I refused obstinately to obey, and then I wasunmercifully beaten. In spite of all, I might, perhaps, have becomeattached to the woman, had she not had the disgusting habit ofdrinking. Every week regularly, on the day when she took the clothesto Paris (it was on Wednesdays), she came home drunk. And then,according as, with the fumes of the wine, anger or gayety rose toher brain, there were atrocious scenes or obscene jests.

"When she was in that condition, she inspired me with horror. Andone Wednesday, as I showed my feelings too plainly, she struck meso hard, that she broke my arm. I had been with, her for twentymonths. The injury she had done me sobered her at once. Shebecame frightened, overpowered me with caresses, begging me to saynothing to any one. I promised, and kept faithfully my word.

But a physician had to be called in. There had been witnesses whospoke. The story spread along the river, as far as Bougival andRueil. And one morning an officer of gendarmes called at the house;and I don't exactly know what would have happened, if I had notobstinately maintained that I had broken my arm in falling downstairs."What surprised Maxence most was Mlle. Lucienne's simple and naturaltone. No emphasis, scarcely an appearance of emotion. One mighthave thought it was somebody's else life that she was narrating.

Meantime she was going on,"Thanks to my obstinate denials the woman was not disturbed. Butthe truth was known; and her reputation, which was not good before,became altogether bad. I became an object of interest. The verysame people who had seen me twenty times staggering painfully undera load of wet clothes, which was terrible, began to pity meprodigiously because I had had an arm broken, which was nothing.

"At last a number of our customers arranged to take me out of ahouse, in which, they said, I must end by perishing under badtreatment.

"And, after many fruitless efforts, they discovered, at last, atLa Jonchere, an old Jewess lady, very rich, and a widow withoutchildren, who consented to take charge of me.

"I hesitated at first to accept these offers; but noticing that thelaundress, since she had hurt me, had conceived a still greateraversion for me, I made up my mind to leave her.

"It was on the day when I was introduced to my new mistress that Ifirst discovered I had no name. After examining me at length,turning me around and around, making me walk, and sit down, 'Now,'

she inquired, 'what is your name?'

"I stared at her in surprise; for indeed I was then like a savage,not having the slightest notions of the things of life.

"'My name is the Parisian,' I replied.

"She burst out laughing, as also another old lady, a friend of hers,who assisted at my presentation; and I remember that my little pridewas quite offended at their hilarity. I thought they were laughingat me.

"'That's not a name,' they said at last. 'That's a nickname.'

"'I have no other.'

"They seemed dumfounded, repeating over and over that such a thingwas unheard of; and on the spot they began to look for a name for me.

"Where were you born!" inquired my new mistress.

"'At Louveciennes.'

Very well,' said the other: 'let us call her Louvecienne.'

"A long discussion followed, which irritated me so much that I feltlike running away; and it was agreed at last, that I should becalled, not Louvecienne, but Lucienne; and Lucienne I have remained.

"There was nothing said about baptism, since my new mistress was aJewess.

"She was an excellent woman, although the grief she had felt at theloss of her husband had somewhat deranged her faculties.

"As soon as it was decided that I was to remain, she desired toinspect my trousseau. I had none to show her, possessing nothingin the world but the rags on my back. As long as I had remainedwith the laundress, I had finished wearing out her old dresses; andI had never worn any other under-clothing save that which I borrowed,'by authority,' from the clients, - an economical system adopted bymany laundresses.

"Dismayed at my state of destitution, my new mistress sent for aseamstress, and at once ordered wherewith to dress and change me.

"Since the death of the poor gardeners, this was the first time thatany one paid any attention to me, except to exact some service of me.

I was moved to tears; and, in the excess of my gratitude, I wouldgladly have died for that kind old lady.

"This feeling gave me the courage and the constancy required to bearwith her whimsical nature. She had singular manias, disconcertingfancies, ridiculous and often exorbitant exactions. I lent myselfto it all as best I could.

"As she already had two servants, a cook and a chambermaid, I hadmyself no special duties in the house. I accompanied her when shewent out riding. I helped to wait on her at table, and to dress her.

I picked up her handkerchief when she dropped it; and, above all, Ilooked for her snuff-box, which she was continually mislaying.

"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 hardlyknew my letters. 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.

"The chambermaid, on the other hand, had been commissioned to teachme to sew, to embroider, and to execute all sorts of fancy-work;and she took the more interest in her lessons, that little by littleshe shifted upon me the most tedious part of her work.

"I would have been happy in that pretty house at La Jonchere, if Ihad only had some society better suited to my age than the old womenwith whom I was compelled to live, and who scolded me for a loudword or a somewhat abrupt gesture. What would I not have given tohave been allowed to play with the young girls whom I saw on Sundayspassing in crowds along the road!

"As time went on, my old mistress became more and more attached tome, and endeavored in every way to give me proofs of her affection.

I sat at table with her, instead of waiting on her, as at first.

She had given me clothes, so that she could take me and introduceme anywhere.

"She went about repeating everywhere that she was as fond of me asof a daughter; that she intended to set me up in life; and thatcertainly she would leave a part of her fortune to me.

"Alas! She said it too loud, for my misfortune, - so loud, thatthe news reached at last the ears of some nephews of hers in Paris,who came once in a while to La Jonchere.

"They had never paid much attention to me up to this time. Thosespeeches opened their eyes: they noticed what progress I had madein the heart of their relative; and their cupidity became alarmed.

"Trembling lest they should lose an inheritance which theyconsidered as theirs, they united against me, determined to put astop to their aunt's generous intentions by having me sent off.

"But it was in vain, that, for nearly a year, their hatred exhausteditself in skillful manceuvres.

"The instinct of preservation stimulating my perspicacity I hadpenetrated their intentions, and I was struggling with all my might.

Every day, to make myself more indispensable, I invented some novelattention.

"They only came once a week to La Jonchere: I was there all the time.

I had the advantage. I struggled successfully, and was probablyapproaching the end of my troubles, when my poor old mistress wastaken sick. After forty-eight hours, she was very low. She wasfully conscious, but for that very reason she could appreciate thedanger; and the fear of death made her crazy.

"Her nieces had come to sit by her bedside; and I was expresslyforbidden to enter the room. They had understood that this was anexcellent opportunity to get rid of me forever.

"Evidently gained in advance, the physicians declared to my poorbenefactress that the air of La Jonchere was fatal to her, andthat her only chance of recovery was to establish herself in Paris.

One of her nephews offered to have her taken to his house in alitter. She would soon get well, they said; and she could then goto finish her convalescence in some southern city.

"Her first word was for me. She did not wish to be separated fromme, she protested, and insisted absolutely upon taking me with her.

Her nephews represented gravely to her that this was animpossibility; that she must not think of burdening herself withme; that the simplest thing was to leave me at La Jonchere; andthat, moreover, they would see that I should get a good situation.

"The sick woman struggled for a long time, and with an energy ofwhich I would not have thought her capable.

"But the others were pressing. The physicians kept repeating thatthey could not answer for any thing, if she did not follow theiradvice. She was afraid of death. She yielded, weeping.

"The very next morning, a sort of litter, carried by eight men,stopped in front of the door. My poor mistress was laid into it;and they carried her off, without even permitting me to kiss herfor the last time.

"Two hours later, the cook and the chambermaid were dismissed. Asto myself, the nephew who had promised to look after me put atwenty-franc-piece in my hand saying, 'Here are your eight days inadvance. Pack up your things immediately, and clear out!

It was impossible that Mlle. Lucienne should not be deeply movedwhilst thus stirring the ashes of her past. She showed no evidenceof it, however, except, now and then, a slight alteration in hervoice.

As to Maxence, he would vainly have tried to conceal the passionateinterest with which he was listening to these unexpected confidences.

"Have you, then, never seen your benefactress again?" he asked.

"Never," replied Mlle. Lucienne. "All my efforts to reach her haveproved fruitless. She does not live in Paris now. I have writtento her: my letters have remained without answer. Did she ever getthem? I think not. Something tells me that she has not forgottenme."She remained silent for a few moments, as if collecting herselfbefore resuming the thread of her narrative. And then,"It was thus brutally," she resumed, "that I was sent off. Itwould have been useless to beg, I knew; and, moreover, I have neverknown how to beg. I piled up hurriedly in two trunks and in somebandboxes all I had in the world, - all I had received from thegenerosity of my poor mistress; and, before the stated hour, I wasready. The cook and the chambermaid had already gone. The man whowas treating me so cruelly was waiting for me. He helped me carryout my boxes and trunks, after which he locked the door, put thekey in his pocket; and, as the American omnibus was passing, hebeckoned to it to stop. And then, before entering it,Good luck, my pretty girl !' he said with a laugh.

"This was in the month of January, 1866. I was just thirteen. Ihave had since more terrible trials, and I have found myself in muchmore desperate situations: but I do not remember ever feeling suchintense discouragement as I did that day, when I found myself aloneupon that road, not knowing which way to go. I sat down on one ofmy trunks. The weather was cold and gloomy: there were few personson the road. They looked at me, doubtless wondering what I was doingthere. I wept. I had a vague feeling that the well-meant kindnessof my poor benefactress, in bestowing upon me the blessings ofeducation, would in reality prove a serious impediment in thelife-struggle which I was about to begin again. I thought of whatI suffered with the laundress; and, at the idea of the tortureswhich the future still held in store for me, I desired death. TheSeine was near: why not put an end at once to the miserableexistence which I foresaw?

"Such were my reflections, when a woman from Rueil, avegetable-vender, whom I knew by sight, happened to pass, pushingher hand-cart before her over the muddy pavement. She stopped whenshe saw me; and, in the softest voice she could command.

"'What are you doing there, my darling?' she asked.

"In a few words I explained to her my situation. She seemed moresurprised than moved.

"'Such is life,' she remarked, -' sometimes up, sometimes down.'

"And, stepping up nearer,"'What do you expect to do now?' she interrogated in a tone of voiceso different from that in which she had spoken at first, that I feltmore keenly the horror of my altered situation.

"'I have no idea,' I replied.

"After thinking for a moment,"'You can't stay there,' she resumed: 'the gendarmes would arrestyou. Come with me. We will talk things over at the house; andI'll give you my advice.'

"I was so completely crushed, that I had neither strength nor will.

Besides, what was the use of thinking? Had I any choice ofresolutions? Finally, the woman's offer seemed to me a last favorof destiny.

"'I shall do as you say, madame,' I replied:

"She proceeded at once to load up my little baggage on her cart.

We started; and soon we arrived 'home.'

"What she called thus was a sort of cellar, at least twelve incheslower than the street, receiving its only light through the glassdoor, in which several broken panes had been replaced by sheets ofpaper. It was revoltingly filthy, and filled with a sickening odor.

On all sides were heaps of vegetables, - cabbages, potatoes, onions.

In one corner a nameless heap of decaying rags, which she calledher bed; in the centre, a small cast-iron stove, the worn-out pipeof which allowed the smoke to escape in the room.

"Anyway,' she said to me, 'you have a home now!'

"I helped her to unload the cart. She filled the stove with coal,and at once declared that she wanted to inspect my things.

"My trunks were opened; and it was with exclamations of surprisethat the woman handled my dresses, my skirts, my stockings.

"'The mischief!' she exclaimed, 'you dressed well, didn't you?'

"Her eyes sparkled so, that a strong feeling of mistrust arose inmy mind. She seemed to consider all my property as an unexpectedgodsend to herself. Her hands trembled as she handled some pieceof jewelry; and she took me to the light that she might betterestimate the value of my ear-rings.

"And so, when she asked me if I had any money, determined to hideat least my twenty-franc-piece, which was my sole fortune, I repliedboldly, 'No.'

That's a pity,' she grumbled.

"But she wished to know my history, and I was compelled to tell itto her. One thing only surprised her, - my age; and in fact, thoughonly thirteen, I looked fully sixteen.

"When I had done,"'Never mind!' she said. 'It was lucky for you that you met me.

You are at least certain now of eating every day; for I am goingto take charge of you. I am getting old: you'll help me to dragmy cart. If you are as smart as you are pretty, we'll make money.'

"Nothing could suit me less. But how could I resist? She threw afew rags upon the floor; and on them I had to sleep. The next day,wearing my meanest dress, and a pair of wooden shoes which she hadbought for me, and which bruised my feet horribly, I had to harnessmyself to the cart by means of a leather strap, which cut myshoulders and my chest. She was an abominable creature, that woman;and I soon found out that her repulsive features indicated but toowell her ignoble instincts. After leading a life of vice and shame,she had, with the approach of hold age, fallen into the most abjectpoverty, and had adopted the trade of vegetable-vender, which shecarried on just enough to escape absolute starvation. Enraged ather fate, she found a detestable pleasure in ill-treating me, orin endeavoring to stain my imagination by the foulest speeches.

"Ah, if I had only known where to fly, and where to take refuge!

But, abusing my ignorance, that execrable woman had persuaded me,that, if I attempted to go out alone, I would be arrested. And Iknew no one to whom I could apply for protection and advice. Andthen I began to learn that beauty, to a poor girl, is a fatal gift.

One by one, the woman had sold every thing I had, - dresses,underclothes, jewels; and I was now reduced to rags almost as meanas when I was with the laundress.

"Every morning, rain or shine, hot or cold, we started, wheelingour cart from village to village, all along the Seine, fromCourbevoie to Pont-Marly. I could see no end to this wretchedexistence, when one evening the commissary of police presentedhimself at our hovel, and ordered us to follow him.

"We were taken to prison; and there I found myself thrown amongsome hundred women, whose faces, words, and gestures frightenedme. The vegetable-woman had committed a theft; and I was accusedof complicity. Fortunately I was easily able to demonstrate myinnocence; and, at the end of two weeks, a jailer opened the doorto me, saying, 'Go: you are free!'"Maxence understood now the gently ironical smile with which Mlle.

Lucienne had heard him assert that he, too, had been very unhappy.

What a life hers had been! And how could such things be within astep of Paris, in the midst of a society which deems its organizationtoo perfect to consent to modify it!

Mlle. Lucienne went on, speaking somewhat faster,"I was indeed free; but of what use could my freedom be to me? Iknew not which way to go. A mechanical instinct took me back toRueil. I fancied I would be safer among people who all knew me,and that I might find shelter in our old lodgings. But thislast hope was disappointed. Immediately after our arrest, theowner of the building had thrown out every thing it contained, andhad rented it to a hideous beggar, who offered me, with a giggle,to become his housekeeper. I ran off as fast as I could.

"The situation was certainly more horrible now than the day whenI had been turned out of my benefactress' house. But the eightmonths I had just spent with the horrible woman had taught me anewhow to bear misery, and had nerved up my energy.

"I took out from a fold of my dress, where I had kept it constantlyhid, the twenty-franc-piece I had received; and, as I was hungry,I entered a sort of eating and lodging house, where I hadoccasionally taken a meal. The proprietor was a kind-hearted man.

When I had told him my situation, he invited me to remain withhim until I could find something better. On Sundays and Mondaysthe customers were plenty; and he was obliged to take an extraservant. He offered me that work to do, promising, in exchange,my lodging and one meal a day. I accepted. The next day beingSunday, I commenced the arduous duties of a bar-maid in a lowdrinking house. My pourboires amounted sometimes to five or tenfrancs; I had my board and lodging free; and at the end of threemonths I had been able to provide myself with some decent clothing,and was commencing to accumulate a little reserve, when thelodging-house keeper, whose business had unexpectedly developeditself to a considerable extent, concluded to engage a man-waiter,and urged me to look elsewhere for work. I did so. An old neighborof ours told me of a situation at Bougival, where she said I wouldbe very comfortable. Overcoming my repugnance, I applied, and wasaccepted. I was to get thirty francs a month.

"The place might have been a good one. There were only three inthe family, - the gentleman and his wife, and a son of twenty-five.

Every morning, father and son left for Paris by the first train,and only came home to dinner at about six o'clock. I was thereforealone all day with the woman. Unfortunately, she was a cross anddisagreeable person, who, never having had a servant before, feltan insatiable desire of showing and exercising her authority. Shewas, moreover, extremely suspicious, and found some pretext to visitregularly my trunks once or twice a week, to see if I had notconcealed some of her napkins or silver spoons. Having told herthat I had once been a laundress, she made me wash and iron all theclothes in the house, and was forever accusing me of using too muchsoap and too much coal. Still I liked the place well enough; and Ihad a little room in the attic; which I thought charming, and whereI spent delightful evenings reading or sewing.

"But luck was against me. The young gentleman of the house took afancy to me, and determined to make me his mistress. I discouragedhim in a way; but he persisted in his loathsome attention, until onenight he broke into my room, and I was compelled to shout for helpwith all my might, before I could get rid of him.

"The next day I left that house; but I tried in vain to find anothersituation in Bougival. I resolved then to seek a place in Paris.

I had a big trunk full of good clothes, and about a hundred francsof savings; and I felt no anxiety.

"When I arrived in Paris, I went straight to an intelligence-office.

I was extremely well received by a very affable old woman whopromised to get me a good place, and, in the mean time, solicitedme to board with her. She kept a sort of boarding-house for servantsout of place; and there were there some fifty or sixty of us, whoslept at night in long dormitories.

"Time went by, and still I did not find that famous place. Theboard was expensive, too, for my scanty means; and I determined toleave. I started in quest of new lodgings, followed by a porter,carrying my trunk; but as I was crossing the Boulevard, not gettingquick enough out of the way of a handsome private carriage whichwas coming at full trot, I was knocked down, and trampled under thehorses's feet."Without allowing Maxence to interrupt her,"I had lost consciousness," went on Mlle. Lucienne. "When I cameto my senses, I was sitting in a drugstore; and three or fourpersons were busy around me. I had no fracture, but only somesevere contusions, and a deep cut on the head.

"The physician who had attended me requested me to try and walk; butI could not even stand on my feet. Then he asked me where I lived,that I might be taken there; and I was compelled to own that I was apoor servant out of place, without a home or a friend to care for me.

In that case,' said the doctor to the druggist, 'we must send herto the hospital.'

"And they sent for a cab.

"In the mean time, quite a crowd had gathered outside, and theconduct of the person who was in the carriage that had run over mewas being indignantly criticised. It was a woman; and I had caughta glimpse of her at the very moment I was falling under the horses'

feet. 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, 'I am in too great ahurry to stop. My coachman is an awkward fellow, whom I shalldismiss as soon as I get home. I am ready to pay any thing thatmay be asked.'

"She had also sent one of her cards for me. A policeman handed itto me; and I read the name, Baronne de Thaller.

"That's lucky for you,' said the doctor. 'That lady is the wife ofa very rich banker; and she will be able to help you when you getwell.'

"The cab had now come. I was carried into it; and, an hour later,I was admitted at the hospital, and laid on a dean, comfortable bed.

"But my trunk! - my trunk, which contained all my things, all I hadin the world, and, worse still, all the money I had left. I askedfor it, my heart filled with anxiety. No one had either seen orheard of it. Had the porter missed me in the crowd? or had hebasely availed himself of the accident to rob me? This was hard todecide.

"The good sisters promised that they would have it looked after,and that the police would certainly be able to find that man whomI had engaged near the intelligence-office. But all theseassurances failed to console me. This blow was the finishing one.

I was taken with fever; and for more than two weeks my life wasdespaired of. I was saved at last: but my convalescence was longand tedious; and for over two months I lingered with alternationsof better and of worse.

"Yet such had been my misery for the past two years, that thisgloomy stay in a hospital was for me like an oasis in the desert.

The good sisters were very kind to me; and, when I was able, Ihelped them with their lighter work, or went to the chapel withthem. I shuddered at the thought that I must leave them as soonas I was entirely well; and then what would become of me? For mytrunk had not been found, and I was destitute of all.

"And yet I had, at the hospital, more than one subject for gloomyreflections. Twice a week, on Thursdays and Sundays, visitors wereadmitted; and there was not on those days a single patient who didnot receive a relative or a friend. But I, no one, nothing, never!

"But I am mistaken. I was commencing to get well, when one SundayI saw by my bedside an old man, dressed all in black, of alarmingappearance, wearing blue spectacles, and holding under his arm anenormous portfolio, crammed full of papers.

"You are Mlle. Lucienne, I believe," he asked.

"'Yes,' I replied, quite surprised.

"You are the person who was knocked down by a carriage on the cornerof the Boulevard and the Faubourg St. Martin?'

"'Yes sir.'

"Do you know whose equipage that was?'

"'The Baronne de Thaller's, I was told.'

"He seemed a little surprised, but at once,"Have you seen that lady, or caused her to be seen in your behalf?'

"'No.'

"Have you heard from her in any manner?'

"'No.'

"A smile came back upon his lips.

"Luckily for you I am here,' be said. 'Several times already I havecalled; but you were too unwell to hear me. Now that you are better,listen.'

"And thereupon, taking a chair, he commenced to explain hisprofession to me.

"He was a sort of broker; and accidents were his specialty. Assoon as one took place, he was notified by some friends of his atpolice headquarters. At once he started in quest of the victim,overtook her at home or at the hospital, and offered his services.

For a moderate commission he undertook, if needs be, to recoverdamages. He commenced suit when necessary; and, if he thought thecase tolerably safe, he made advances. He stated, for instance,that my case was a plain one, and that he would undertake to obtainfour or five thousand francs, at least, from Mme. de Thaller. Allhe wanted was my power of attorney. But, in spite of his pressinginstances, I declined his offers; and he withdrew, very muchdispleased, assuring me that I would soon repent.

"Upon second thought, indeed, I regretted to have followed the firstinspiration of my pride, and the more so, that the good sisters whomI consulted on the subject told me that I was wrong, and that myreclamation would be perfectly proper. At their suggestion, I thenadopted another line of conduct, which, they thought, would as surelybring about the same result.

"As briefly as possible, I wrote out the history of my life fromthe day I had been left with the gardeners at Louveciennes. I addedto it a faithful account of my present situation; and I addressedthe whole to Mme. de Thaller.

"You'll see if she don't come before a day or two,' said the sisters.

"They were mistaken. Mme. de Thaller came neither the next nor thefollowing days; and I was still awaiting her answer, when, onemorning, the doctor announced that I was well enough to leave thehospital.

I cannot say that I was very sorry. I had lately made theacquaintance of a young workwoman, who had been sent to the hospitalin consequence of a fall, and who occupied the bed next to mine.

She was a girl of about twenty, very gentle, very obliging, and whoseamiable countenance had attracted me from the first.

"Like myself, she had no parents. But she was rich, very rich. Sheowned the furniture of the room, a sewing-machine, which had costher three hundred francs, and, like a true child of Paris, sheunderstood five or six trades, the least lucrative of which yieldedher twenty-five or thirty cents a day. In less than a week, we hadbecome good friends; and, when she left the hospital,"'Believe me,' she said: 'when you come out yourself, don't wasteyour time looking for a place. Come to me: I can accommodate you.

I'll teach you what I know; and, if you are industrious, you'll makeyour living, and you'll be free.'

"It was to her room that I went straight from the hospital, carrying,tied in a handkerchief, my entire baggage, - one dress, and a fewundergarments that the good sisters had given me.

"She received me like a sister, and after showing me her lodging,two little attic-rooms shining with cleanliness,"'You'll see,' she said, kissing me, 'how happy we'll be here.'

It was getting late. M. Fortin had long ago come up and put outthe gas on the stairs. One by one, every noise had died away inthe hotel. Nothing now disturbed the silence of the night savethe distant sound of some belated cab on the Boulevard. But neitherMaxence nor Mlle. Lucienne were noticing the flight of time, sointerested were they, one in telling, and the other in listening to,this story of a wonderful existence. However, Mlle. Lucienne' svoice had become hoarse with fatigue. She poured herself a glassof water, which she emptied at a draught, and then at once,"Never yet," she resumed, "had I been agitated by such a sweetsensation. My eyes were full of tears; but they were tears ofgratitude and joy. After so many years of isolation, to meet withsuch a friend, so generous, and so devoted: it was like finding afamily. For a few weeks, I thought that fate had relented at last.

My friend was an excellent workwoman; but with some intelligence,and the will to learn, I soon knew as much as she did.

"There was plenty of work. By working twelve hours, with the helpof the thrice-blessed sewing-machine, we succeeded in making six,seven, and even eight francs a day. It was a fortune.

"Thus several months elapsed in comparative comfort.

"Once more I was afloat, and I had more clothes than I had lost inmy trunk. I liked the life I was leading; and I would be leadingit still, if my friend had not one day fallen desperately in lovewith a young man she had meet at a ball. I disliked him very much,and took no trouble to conceal my feelings: nevertheless, my friendimagined that I had designs upon him, and became fiercely, jealousof me. Jealousy does not reason; and I soon understood that wewould no longer be able to live in common, and that I must lookelsewhere for shelter. But my friend gave me no time to do so.

Coming home one Monday night at about eleven, she notified me toclear out at once. I attempted to expostulate: she replied withabuse. Rather than enter upon a degrading struggle, I yielded,and went out.

That night I spent on a chair in a neighbor's room. But the nextday, when I went for my things, my former friend refused to givethem, and presumed to keep every thing. I was compelled, thoughreluctantly, to resort to the intervention of the commissary ofpolice.

I gained my point. But the good days had gone. Luck did not followme to the wretched furnished house where I hired a room. I had nosewing-machine, and but few acquaintances. By working fifteen orsixteen hours a day, I made thirty or forty cents. That was notenough to live on. Then work failed me altogether, and, piece bypiece, every thing I had went to the pawnbroker's. On a gloomyDecember morning, I was turned out of my room, and left on thepavement with a ten-cent-piece for my fortune.

Never had I been so low; and I know not to what extremities I mighthave come at last, when I happened to 'think of that wealthy ladywhose horses had upset me on the Boulevard. I had kept her card.

Without hesitation, I went unto a grocery, and calling for somepaper and a pen, I wrote, overcoming the last struggle of my pride,"'Do you remember, madame, a poor girl whom your carriage came nearcrushing to death? Once before she applied to you, and received noanswer. She is to-day without shelter and without bread; and youare her supreme hope.'

"I placed these few lines in an envelope, and ran to the addressindicated on the card. It was a magnificent residence, with a vastcourt-yard in front. In the porter's lodge, five or six servantswere talking as I came in, and looked at me impudently, from headto foot, when I requested them to take my letter to Mme. de Thaller.

One of them, however, took pity on me,"'Come with me,' he said, 'come along !'

"He made me cross the yard, and enter the vestibule; and then,"Give me your letter,' he said, 'and wait here for me.'"Maxence was about to express the thoughts which Mme. de Thaller'sname naturally suggested to his mind, but Mlle. Lucienne interruptedhim,"In all my life," she went on, "I had never seen any thing somagnificent as that vestibule with its tall columns, its tessellatedfloor, its large bronze vases filled with the rarest flowers, andits red velvet benches, upon which tall footmen in brilliant liverywere lounging.

"I was, I confess, somewhat intimidated by all of this splendor; andI remained awkwardly standing, when suddenly the servants stood uprespectfully.

"A door had just opened, through which appeared a man already pastmiddle age, tall, thin, dressed in the extreme of fashion, andwearing long red whiskers falling over his chest.""The Baron de Thaller," murmured Maxence.

Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the interruption.

"The attitude of the servants," she went on, "had made me easilyguess that he was the master. I was bowing to him, blushing andembarrassed, when, noticing me, he stopped short, shuddering fromhead to foot.

"Who are you?' he asked me roughly.

"I attributed his manner to the sad condition of my dress, whichappeared more miserable and more dilapidated still amid thesurrounding splendors; and, in a scarcely intelligible voice, I began,"'I am a poor girl, sir -'

"But he interrupted me.

"'To the point! What do you want?'

"'I am awaiting an answer, sir, to a request which I have justforwarded to the baroness.'

"What about?'

"'Once sir, I was run over in the street by the baroness's carriage:

I was severely wounded, and had to be taken to the hospital.'

"I fancied there was something like terror in the man's look.

"It is you, then, who once before sent a long letter to my wife, inwhich you told the story of your life?'

"'Yes, sir, it was I.'

"'You stated in that letter that you had no parents, having beenleft by your mother with some gardeners at Louveciennes?'

"'That is the truth.'

"'What has become of these gardeners?'

"'They are dead.'

"'What was your mother's name?'

"'I never knew.'

"To M. de Thaller's first surprise had succeeded a feeling ofevident irritation; but, the more haughty and brutal his manners,the cooler and the more self-possessed I became.

"'And you are soliciting assistance?' he said.

"I drew myself up, and, looking at him straight in the eyes,"'I beg your pardon,' I replied: 'it is a legitimate indemnity whichI claim.'

"Indeed, it seemed to me that my firmness alarmed him. With afeverish haste, he began to feel in his pockets. He took out theircontents of gold and bank-notes all in a heap, and, thrusting itinto my hands without counting,"'Here,' he said, 'take this. Are you satisfied?'

"I observed to him, that, having sent a letter to Mme. de Thaller,it would perhaps be proper to await her answer. But he replied thatit was not necessary, and, pushing me towards the door,"You may depend upon it,' he said, 'I shall tell my wife that Isaw you.'

"I started to go out; but I had not gone ten steps across the yard,when I heard him crying excitedly to his servants,"'You see that beggar, don't you? Well, the first one who allowsher to cross the threshold of my door shall be turned out on theinstant.'

"A beggar, I! Ah the wretch! I turned round to cast his alms intohis face; but already he had disappeared, and I only found before methe footman, chuckling stupidly.

"I went out; and, as my anger gradually passed off, I felt thankfulthat I had been unable to follow the dictates of my wounded pride.

"'Poor girl,' I thought to myself, 'where would you be at this hour?

You would only have to select between suicide and the vilestexistence; whereas now you are above want.'

"I was passing before a small restaurant. I went in; for I wasvery hungry, having, so to speak, eaten nothing for several dayspast. Besides, I felt anxious to count my treasure. The Baron deThaller had given me nine hundred and thirty francs.

"This sum, which exceeded the utmost limits of my ambition, seemedinexhaustible to me: I was dazzled by its possession.

"'And yet,' I thought, 'had M. de Thaller happened to have tenthousand francs in his pockets he would have given them to me allthe same.'

"I was at a loss to explain this strange generosity. Why hissurprise when he first saw me, then his anger, and his haste to getrid of me? How was it that a man whose mind must be filled withthe gravest cares had so distinctly remembered me, and the letterI had written to his wife? Why, after showing himself so generous,had he so strictly excluded me from his house?

"After vainly trying for some time to solve this riddle, I concludedthat I must be the victim of my own imagination; and I turned myattention to making the best possible use of my sudden fortune. Onthe same day, I took a little room in the Faubourg St. Denis; andI bought myself a sewing-machine. Before the week was over, I hadwork before me for several months. Ah! this time it seemed indeedthat I had nothing more to apprehend from destiny; and I lookedforward, without fear, to the future. At the end of a month, I wasearning four to five francs a day, when, one afternoon, a stout man,very well dressed, looking honest and good-natured, and speakingFrench with some difficulty, made his appearance at my room. Hewas an American he stated, and had been sent to me by the woman forwhom I worked. Having need of a skilled Parisian work-woman, hecame to propose to me to follow him to New York, where he wouldinsure me a brilliant position.

"But I knew several poor girls, who, on the faith of dazzlingpromises, had expatriated themselves. Once abroad, they had beenshamefully abandoned, and had been driven, to escape starvation,to resort to the vilest expedients. I refused, therefore, andfrankly gave him my reasons for doing so.

"My visitor at once protested indignantly. Whom did I take himfor? It was a fortune that I was refusing. He guaranteed me inNew York board, lodging, and two hundred francs a month. He wouldpay all traveling and moving expenses. And, to prove to me thefairness of his intentions, he was ready, he said, to sign anagreement, and pay me a thousand down.

"These offers were so brilliant, that I was staggered in myresolution.

"Well,' I said, 'give me twenty-four hours to decide. I wish tosee my employer.'

"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.

"I ran at once to my employer. She did not know what I was talkingabout. She had sent no one, and was not acquainted with any American.

"Of course, I never saw him again; and I couldn't help thinking ofthis singular adventure, when, one evening during the followingweek, as I was coming home at about eleven o'clock, two policemenarrested me, and, in spite of my earnest protestations, took meto the station-house, where I was locked up with a dozen unfortunateswho had just been taken up on the Boulevards. I spent the nightcrying with shame and anger; and I don't know what would have becomeof me, if the justice of the peace, who examined me the next morning,had not happened to be a just and kind man. As soon as I hadexplained to him that I was the victim of a most humiliating errorhe sent an agent in quest of information, and having satisfiedhimself that I was an honest girl, working for my living, hedischarged me. But, before permitting me to go,"'Beware, my child,' he said to me: 'it is upon a formal andwell-authenticated declaration that you were arrested. Thereforeyou must have enemies. People have an interest in getting rid ofyou'"Mademoiselle Lucienne was evidently almost exhausted with fatigue:

her voice was failing her. But it was in vain that Maxence beggedher to take a few moments of rest.

"No," she answered," I'd rather get through as quick as possible."And, making an effort, she resumed her narrative, hurrying moreand more.

"I returned home, my mind all disturbed by the judge's warnings.

I am no coward; but it is a terrible thing to feel one's selfincessantly threatened by an unknown and mysterious danger, againstwhich nothing can be done.

"In vain did I search my past life: I could think of no one whocould have any interest in effecting my ruin. Those alone haveenemies who have had friends. I had never had but one friend, thekind-hearted girl who had turned me out of her home in a fit ofabsurd jealousy. But I knew her well enough to knew that she wasincapable of malice, and that she must long since have forgottenthe unlucky cause of our rupture.

"Weeks after weeks passed without any new incident. I had plentyof work and was earning enough money to begin saving. So I feltcomfortable, laughed at my former fears, and neglected theprecautions which I had taken at first; when, one evening, myemployer, having a very important and pressing order, sent for me.

We did not get through our work until long after midnight.

"She wished me to spend the rest of the night with her; but it wouldhave been necessary to make up a bed for me, and disturb the wholehousehold.

'Bash!' I said, 'this will not be the first time I cross Paris inthe middle of the night.'

"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, butfor two brave gentlemen who heard my screams and rushed to myassistance. The man ran off; and I was able to walk the rest ofthe way home, having received but a very slight wound.

"But the very next morning I ran to see my friend, the justice ofthe peace. He listened to me gravely, and, when I had concluded,"'How were you dressed?' he inquired.

"'All in black,' I replied, 'very modestly, like a workwoman.'

"'Had you nothing on your person that could tempt a thief?'

"'Nothing. No watch-chain, no jewelry, no ear-rings even.'

"'Then,' he uttered, knitting his brows, 'it is not a fortuitouscrime: it is another attempt on the part of your enemies.'

"Such was also my opinion. And yet:

"'But, sir,' I exclaimed, 'who can have any interest to destroy me,- a poor obscure girl as I am? I have thought carefully and well,and I have not a single enemy that I can think of.' And, as I hadfull confidence in his kindness, I went on telling him the storyof my life.

"'You are a natural child,' he said as soon as I had done, 'and youhave been basely abandoned. That fact alone would be sufficient tojustify every supposition. You do not know your parents; but it isquite possible that they may knew you, and that they may never havelost sight of you. Your mother was a working-girl, you think? Thatmay be. But your father? Do you know what interests your existencemay threaten? Do you know what elaborate edifice of falsehood andinfamy your sudden appearance might tumble to the ground?'

"I was listening dumfounded.

"Never had such conjectures crossed my mind; and, whilst I doubtedtheir probability, I had, at least, to admit their possibility.

"'What must I do, then?" I inquired.

The peace-officer shook his head.

"'Indeed, my poor child, I hardly know what to advise. The policeis not omnipotent. It can do nothing to anticipate a crime conceivedin the brain of an unknown scoundrel.'

"I was terrified. He saw it, and took pity on me.

"'In your place,' he added, "I would change my domicile. You might,perhaps, thus make them lose your track. And, above all, do notfail to give me your new address. Whatever I can do to protect you,and insure your safety, I shall do.'

"That excellent man has kept his word; and once again I owed mysafety to him. Tis he who is now commissary of police in thisdistrict, and who protected me against Mme. Fortin. I hastened tofollow his advice, and two days later I had hired the room in thishouse in which I am still living. In order to avoid every chanceof discovery, I left my employer, and requested her to say, if anyone came to inquire after me, that I had gone to America.

"I soon found work again in a very fashionable dress-makingestablishment, the name of, which you must have heard, - Van Klopen's.

Unfortunately, war had just been declared. Every day announced a newdefeat. The Prussians were coming; then the siege began. Van Klopenhad closed his shop, and left Paris. I had a few savings, thankheaven; and I husbanded them as carefully as shipwrecked mariners dotheir last ration of food, when I unexpectedly found some work.

"It was one Sunday, and I had gone out to see some battalions ofNational Guards passing along the Boulevard, when suddenly I sawone of the vivandieres, who was marching behind the band, stop, andrun towards me with open arms. It was my old friend from theBatignolles, who had recognized me. She threw her arms around myneck, and, as we had at once become the centre of a group of atleast five hundred idlers,"I must speak to you,' she said. 'If you live in the neighborhood,let's go to your room. The service can wait.'

"I brought her here,; and at once she commenced to excuse herselffor her past conduct, begging me to restore her my friendship. AsI expected, she had long since forgotten the young man, cause ofour rupture. But she was now in love, and seriously this time, shedeclared, with a furniture-maker, who was a captain in the NationalGuards. It was through him that she had become a vivandiere; andshe offered me a similar position, if I wished it. But I did notwish it; and, as I was complaining that I could find no work, sheswore that she would get me some through her captain, who was a veryinfluential man.

"Through him, I did in fact obtain a few dozen jackets to make.

This work was very poorly paid; but the little I earned was thatmuch less to take from my humble resources. In that way I managedto get through the siege without suffering too much.

"After the armistice, unfortunately, M. Van Klopen had not yetreturned. I was unable to procure any work; my resources wereexhausted; and I would have starved during the Commune, but formy old friend, who several times brought me a little money, andsome provisions. Her captain was now a colonel, and was about tobecome a member of the government; at least, so she assured me.

The entrance of the troops into Paris put an end to her dream.

One night she came to me livid with fright. She supposed herselfgravely compromised, and begged me to hide her. For four daysshe remained with me. On the fifth, just as we were sitting downto dinner, my room was invaded by a number of police-agents, whoshowed us an order of arrest, and commanded us to follow them.

"My friend sank down upon a chair, stupid with fright. But Iretained my presence of mind, and persuaded one of the agents togo and notify my friend the justice. He happened luckily to be athome, and at once hastened to my assistance. He could do nothing,however, for the moment; the agents having positive orders to takeus straight to Versailles.

"'Well,' said he, 'I shall accompany you.'

"From the very first steps he took the next morning, he discoveredthat my position was indeed grave. But he also and very clearlyrecognized a new device of the enemy to bring about my destruction.

The information filed against me stated that I had remained in theservice of the Commune to the last moment; that I had been seenbehind the barricades with a gun in my hand; and that I had formedone of a band of vile incendiaries. This infamous scheme hadevidently been suggested by my relations with my friend from theBatignolles, who was still more terribly compromised than shethought, the poor girl; her colonel having been captured, andconvicted of pillage and murder, and herself charged with complicity.

"Isolated as I was, without resources, and without relatives, Iwould certainly have perished, but for the devoted efforts of myfriend the justice, whose official position gave him accesseverywhere, and enabled him to reach my judges. He succeeded indemonstrating my entire innocence; and after forty-eight hours'

detention, which seemed an age to me, I was set at liberty.

"At the door; I found the man who had just saved me. He was waitingfor me, but would not suffer me to express the gratitude with whichmy heart overflowed.

"'You will thank me,' he said, 'when I have deserved it better. Ihave done nothing as yet that any honest man wouldn't have done inmy place. What I wish is to discover what interests you arethreatening without knowing it, and which must be considerable, ifI may judge by the passion and the tenacity of those who arepursuing you. What I desire to do is to lay hands upon the cowardlyrascals in whose way you seem to stand.'

"I shook my head.

"'You will not succeed,' I said to him.

"'Who knows? I've done harder things than that in my life.'

"And taking a large envelope from his pocket,"This,' he said, 'is the letter which caused your arrest. I haveexamined it attentively; and I am certain that the handwriting isnot disguised. That's something to start with, and may enable meto verify my suspicions, should any occur to my mind. In the meantime, 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. Remain at the Hotel desFolies: it is in my district, in my legitimate sphere of action;besides, the proprietors are in a position where they dare notdisobey my orders. Never come to my office, unless something graveand unforeseen should occur. Our chances of success would beseriously compromised, if they could suspect the interest I takein your welfare. Keep your eyes open on every thing that is goingon around you, and, if you notice any thing suspicious, write to me.

I will myself organize a secret surveillance around you. If I canbag one of the rascals who are watching you, that's all I want.'

"'And now,' added this good man, 'good-by. Patience and courage.'

"Unfortunately he had not thought of offering me a little money: Ihad not dared to ask him for any, and I had but eight sous left.

It was on foot, therefore, that I was compelled to return to Paris.

"Mme. Fortin received me with open arms. With me returned the hopeof recovering the hundred and odd francs which I owed her, andwhich she had given up for lost. Moreover, she had excellent newsfor me. M. Van Kiopen had sent for me during my absence, requestingme to call at his shop. Tired as I was, I went to see him at once.

found him very much downcast by the poor prospects of business.

Still he was determined to go on, and offered to employ me, not aswork-woman, as heretofore, but to try on garments for customers, ata salary of one hundred and twenty francs a month. I was not in aposition to be very particular. I accepted; and there I am still.

"Every morning, when I get to the shop, I take off this simplecostume, and I put on a sort of livery that belongs to M. Van Klopen,- wide skirts, and a black silk dress.

"Then whenever a customer comes who wants a cloak, a mantle, orsome other 'wrapping,' I step up and put on the garment, that thepurchaser may see how it looks. I have to walk, to turn around,sit down, etc. It is absurdly ridiculous, often humiliating; andmany a time, during the first days, I felt tempted to give backto M. Van Klopen his black silk dress.

"But the conjectures of my friend the peace-officer were constantlyagitating my brain. Since I thought I had discovered a mystery inmy existence, I indulged in all sorts of fancies, and was momentarilyexpecting some extraordinary occurrence, some compensation of destiny.

and I remained.

"But I was not yet at the end of my troubles."Since she had been speaking of M. Van Klopen, Mlle. Lucienne seemedto have lost her tone of haughty assurance and imperturbablecoolness; and it was with a look of mingled confusion and sadnessthat she went on.

"What I was doing at Van Klopen's was exceedingly painful to me;and yet he very soon asked me to do something more painful still.

Gradually Paris was filling up again. The hotels had re-opened;foreigners were pouring in; and the Bois Boulogne was resumingits wonted animation. Still but few orders came in, and those fordresses of the utmost simplicity, of dark color and plain material,on which it was hard to make twenty-five per cent profit. VanKiopen was disconsolate. He kept speaking to me of the good olddays, when some of his customers spent as much as thirty thousandfrancs a month for dresses and trifles, until one day,"'You are the only one,' he told me, 'who can help me out justnow. You are really good looking; and I am sure that in full dress,spread over the cushions of a handsome carriage, you would createquite a sensation, and that all the rest of the women would bejealous of you, and would wish to look like you. There needs butone, you know, to give the good example.'"Maxence started up suddenly, and, striking his head with hand,"Ah, I understand now!" he exclaimed.

"I thought that Van Klopen was jesting." went on the young girl.

"But he had never been more in earnest; and, to prove it, hecommenced explaining to me what he wanted. He proposed to get upfor 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, andI would go and show myself in the Bois.

"I felt disgusted at the proposition.

"'Never!' I said.

"Why not?'

"'Because I respect myself too much to make a living advertisementof myself.'

"He shrugged his shoulders.

"'You are wrong,' he said. 'You are not rich, and I would give youtwenty francs for each ride. At the rate of eight rides a month, itwould be one hundred and sixty francs added to your wages. Besides,'

he added with a wink, ' it would be an excellent opportunity to makeyour fortune. Pretty as you are, who knows but what some millionairemight take a fancy to you!'

"I felt indignant.

"For that reason alone, if for no other,' I exclaimed, I refuse.'

"'You are a little fool,' he replied. 'If you do not accept, youcease being in my employment. Reflect!'

"My mind was already made up, and I was thinking of looking out forsome other occupation, when I received a note from my friend thepeace-officer, requesting me to call at his office.

"I did so, and, after kindly inviting me to a seat,"Well,' he said, 'what is there new?'

""Nothing. I have noticed no one watching me'

"He looked annoyed.

"'My agents have not detected any thing, either,' he grumbled.

'And yet it is evident that your enemies cannot have given it upso. They are sharp ones: if they keep quiet, it is because theyare preparing some good trick. What it is I must and shall findout. Already I have an idea which would be an excellent one, if Icould discover some way of throwing you among what is called goodsociety.'

"I explained to him, that, being employed at Van Klopen's, I had anopportunity to see there many ladies of the best society.

"That is not enough,' he said.

"Then M. Van Klopen's propositions came back to my mind, and Istated them to him.

"'Just the thing!' he exclaimed, starting upon his chair: 'a manifestproof that luck is with us. You must accept.'

"I felt bound to tell him my objections, which reflection had muchincreased.

"'I know but too well,' I said, 'what must happen if I accept thisodious duty. Before I have been four times to the Bois, I shall benoticed, and every one will imagine that they know for what purposeI come there. I shall be assailed with vile offers. True, I have nofears for myself. I shall always be better guarded by my pride thanby the most watchful of parents. But my reputation will be lost.'

"I failed to convince him.

"'I know very well that you are an honest girl,' he said to me; 'but,for that very reason, what do you care what all these people willthink, whom you do not know? Your future is at stake. I repeat it,you must accept.'

"'If you command me to do so,' I said.

"Yes, I command you; and I'll explain to you why.''

For the first time, Mlle. Lucienne manifested some reticence, andomitted to repeat the explanations of the peace-officer. And,after a few moments' pause,"You know the rest, neighbor," she said, "since you have seen meyourself in that inept and ridiculous role of living advertisement,of fashionable lay-figure; and the result has been just as Iexpected. Can you find any one who believes in my honesty ofpurpose? You have heard Mme. Fortin to-night? Yourself, neighbor- what did you take me for? And yet you should have noticedsomething of my suffering and my humiliation the day that you werewatching me so closely in the Bois de Boulogne.""What!" exclaimed Maxence with a start, "you know?""Have I not just told you that I always fear being watched andfollowed, and that I am always on the lookout? Yes, I know thatyou tried to discover the secret of my rides."Maxence tried to excuse himself.

"That will do for the present," she uttered. "You wish to be myfriend, you say? Now that you know my whole life almost as wellas I do myself, reflect, and to-morrow you will tell me the resultof your thoughts."Whereupon she went out.
Chapter XXVIII
　　For about a minute Maxence remained stupefied at this suddendenouement; and, when he had recovered his presence of mind and hisvoice, Mlle. Lucienne had disappeared, and he could hear her boltingher door, and striking a match against the wall.

He might also have thought that he was awaking from a dream, had henot had, to attest the reality, the vague perfume which filled hisroom, and the light shawl, which Mlle. Lucienne wore as she came in,and which she had forgotten, on a chair.

The night was almost ended: six o'clock had just struck. Still hedid not feel in the least sleepy. His head was heavy, his templesthrobbing, his eyes smarting. Opening his window, he leaned out tobreathe the morning air. The day was dawning pale and cold. Afurtive and livid light glanced along the damp walls of the narrowcourt of the Hotel des Folies, as at the bottom of a well. Alreadyarose those confused noises which announce the waking of Paris, andabove which can be heard the sonorous rolling of the milkmen's carts,the loud slamming of doors, and the sharp sound of hurrying steps onthe hard pavement.

But soon Maxence felt a chill coming over him. He closed the window,threw some wood in the chimney, and stretched himself on his chair,his feet towards the fire. It was a most serious event which hadjust occurred in his existence; and, as much as he could, heendeavored to measure its bearings, and to calculate its consequencesin the future.

He kept thinking of the story of that strange girl, her haughtyfrankness when unrolling certain phases of her life, of herwonderful impassibility, and of the implacable contempt for humanitywhich her every word betrayed.. Where had she learned that dignity,so simple and so noble, that measured speech, that admirable respectof herself, which had enabled her to pass through so much filthwithout receiving a stain?.

"What a woman!" he thought.

Before knowing her, he loved her. Now he was convulsed by one ofthose exclusive passions which master the whole being. Already hefelt himself so much under the charm, subjugated, dominated,fascinated; he understood so well that he was going to cease beinghis own master; that his free will was about escaping from him;that he would be in Mlle. Lucienne's hands like wax under themodeler's fingers; he saw himself so thoroughly at the discretionof an energy superior to his own, that he was almost frightened.

"It's my whole future that I am going to risk," he thought.

And there was no middle path. Either he must fly at once, withoutwaiting for Mlle. Lucienne to awake, fly without looking behind, orelse stay, and then accept all the chances of an incurable passionfor a woman who, perhaps, might never care for him. And he remainedwavering, like the traveler who finds himself at the intersectionof two roads, and, knowing that one leads to the goal, and the otherto an abyss, hesitates which to take.

With this difference, however, that if the traveler errs, anddiscovers his error, he is always free to retrace his steps; whereasman, in life, can never return to his starting-point. Every step hetakes is final; and if he has erred, if he has taken the fatal road,there is no remedy.

"Well, no matter!" exclaimed Maxence. "It shall not be said thatthrough cowardice I have allowed that happiness to escape whichpasses within my reach. I shall stay." And at once he began toexamine what reasonably he might expect; for there was no mistakingMlle. Lucienne's intentions. When she had said, "Do you wish to befriends?" she had meant exactly that, and nothing else, - friends,and only friends.

"And yet," thought Maxence, "if I had not inspired her with a realinterest, would she have so wholly confided unto me? She is notignorant of the fact that I love her; and she knows life too wellto suppose that I will cease to love her when she has allowed me acertain amount of intimacy."His heart filled with hope at the idea.

My mistress," he thought, "never, evidently, but my wife. Why not?"But the very next moment he became a prey to the bitterestdiscouragement. He thought that perhaps Mlle. Lucienne might havesome capital interest in thus making a confidant of him. She hadnot told him the explanation given her by the peace-officer. Hadshe not, perhaps, succeeded in lifting a corner of the veil whichcovered the secret of her birth? Was she on the track of herenemies? and had she discovered the motive of their animosity?

"Is it possible," thought Maxence, "that I should be but one of thepowers in the game she is playing? How do I know, that, if she wins,she will not cast me off?"In the midst of these thoughts, he had gradually fallen asleep,murmuring to the last the name of Lucienne.

The creaking of his opening door woke him up suddenly. He startedto his feet, and met Mlle. Lucienne coming in.

"How is this?" said she. "You did not go to bed?""You recommended me to reflect," he replied. "I've been reflecting."He looked at his watch: it was twelve o'clock.

"Which, however," he added, "did not keep me from going to sleep."All the doubts that besieged him at the moment when he had beenovercome by sleep now came back to his mind with painful vividness.

"And not only have I been sleeping," he went on, "but I have beendreaming too."Mlle. Lucienne fixed upon him her great black eyes.

"Can you tell me your dream?" she asked.

He hesitated. Had he had but one minute to reflect, perhaps hewould not have spoken; but he was taken unawares.

"I dreamed," he replied, "that we were friends in the noblest andpurest acceptance of that word. Intelligence, heart, will, all thatI am, and all that I can, - I laid every thing at your feet. Youaccepted the most entire devotion the most respectful and the mosttender that man is capable of. Yes, we were friends indeed; andupon a glimpse of love, never expressed, I planned a whole futureof love." He stopped.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well, when my hopes seemed on the point of being realized, ithappened that the mystery of your birth was suddenly revealed toyou. You found a noble, powerful, and wealthy family. You resumedthe illustrious name of which you had been robbed; your enemies werecrushed; and your rights were restored to you. It was no longerVan Klopen's hired carriage that stopped in front of the Hotel desFolies, but a carriage bearing a gorgeous coat of arms. Thatcarriage was yours; and it came to take you to your own residencein the Faubourg St. Germain, or to your ancestral manor.""And yourself?" inquired the girl.

Maxence repressed one of those nervous spasms which frequently breakout in tears, and, with a gloomy look,"I," he answered, "standing on the edge of the pavement, I waitedfor a word or a look from you. You had forgotten my very existence.

Your coachman whipped his horses; they started at a gallop; and soonI lost sight of you. And then a voice, the inexorable voice of fate,cried to me, 'Never more shalt thou see her!'"With a superb gesture Mlle. Lucienne drew herself up.

"It is not with your heart, I trust, that you judgeme, M. Maxence Favoral," she uttered.

He trembled lest he had offended her.

"I beseech you," he began.

But she went on in a voice vibrating with emotion,"I am not of those who basely deny their past. Your dream willnever be realized. Those things are only seen on the stage. Ifit did realize itself, however, if the carriage with thecoat-of-arms did come to the door, the companion of the evil days,the friend who offered me his month's salary to pay my debt, wouldhave a seat by my side."That was more happiness than Maxence would have dared to hope for.

He tried, in order to express his gratitude, to find some of thosewords which always seem to be lacking at the most critical moments.

But he was suffocating; and the tears, accumulated by so manysuccessive emotions, were rising to his eyes.

With a passionate impulse, he seized Mlle. Lucienne's hand, and,taking it to his lips, he covered it with kisses. Gently butresolutely she withdrew her hand, and, fixing upon him her beautifulclear gaze,"Friends," she uttered.

Her accent alone would have been sufficient to dissipate thepresumptuous illusions of Maxence, had he had any. But he had none.

"Friends only," he replied, "until the day when you shall be my wife.

You cannot forbid me to hope. You love no one?""No one.""Well since we are going to tread the path of life, let me thinkthat we may find love at some turn of the road."She made no answer. And thus was sealed between them a treaty offriendship, to which they were to remain so strictly faithful, thatthe word "love" never once rose to their lips.

In appearance there was no change in their mode of life.

Every morning, at seven o'clock, Mlle. Lucienne went to M. VanKlopen's, and an hour later Maxence started for his office. Theyreturned home at night, and spent their evenings together by thefireside.

But what was easy to foresee now took place.

Weak and undecided by nature, Maxence began very soon to feel theinfluence of the obstinate and energetic character of the girl.

She infused, as it were, in his veins, a warmer and more generousblood. Gradually she imbued him with her ideas, and from her ownwill gave him one.

He had told her in all sincerity his history, the miseries of hishome, M. Favoral's parsimony and exaggerated severity, his mother'sresigned timidity, and Mlle. Gilberte's resolute nature.

He had concealed nothing of his past life, of his errors and hisfollies, confessing even the worst of his actions; as, for instance,having abused his mother's and sister's affection to extort fromthem all the money they earned.

He had admitted to her that it was only with great reluctance andunder pressure of necessity, that he worked at all; that he was farfrom being rich; that although he took his dinner with his parents,his salary barely sufficed for his wants; and that he had debts.

He hoped, however, he added, that it would not be always thus, andthat, sooner or later, he would see the termination of all thismisery and privation; for his father had at least fifty thousandfrancs a year and some day he must be rich.

Far from smiling, Mlle. Lucienne frowned at such a prospect.

"Ah! your father is a millionaire, is he?" she interrupted. "Well,I understand now how, at twenty-five, after refusing all thepositions which have been offered to you, you have no position. Yourelied on your father, instead of relying on yourself. Judging thathe worked hard enough for two, you bravely folded your arms, waitingfor the fortune which he is amassing, and which you seem to consideryours."Such morality seemed a little steep to Maxence. "I think," he began,"that, if one is the son of a rich man -""One has the right to be useless, I suppose?" added the girl.

"I do not mean that; but -""There is no but about it. And the proof that your views are wrong,is that they have brought you where you are, and deprived you of yourown free will. To place one's self at the mercy of another, be thatother your own father, is always silly; and one is always at themercy of the man from whom he expects money that he has not earned.

Your father would never have been so harsh, had he not believed thatyou could not do without him."He wanted to discuss: she stopped him.

"Do you wish the proof that you are at M. Favoral's mercy?" she said.

"Very well. You spoke of marrying me.""Ah, if you were willing!""Very well. Go and speak of it to your father.""I suppose -""You don't suppose any thing at all: you are absolutely certain thathe will refuse you his consent.""I could do without it.""I admit that you could. But do you know what he would do then?

He would arrange things in such a way that you would never get acentime of his fortune."Maxence had never thought of that.

"Therefore," the young girl went on gayly, "though there is as yetno question of marriage, learn to secure your independence; thatis, the means of living. And to that effect let us work."It was from that moment, that Mme. Favoral had noticed in her sonthe change that had surprised her so much.

Under the inspiration, under the impulsion, of Mlle. Lucienne,Maxence had been suddenly taken with a zeal for work, and a desireto earn money, of which he could not have been suspected.

He was no longer late at his office, and had not, at the end of eachmonth, ten or fifteen francs' fines to pay.

Every morning, as soon as she was up, Mlle. Lucienne came to knockat his door. "Come, get up!" she cried to him.

And quick he jumped out of bed and dressed, so that he might bidher good-morning before she left.

In the evening, the last mouthful of his dinner was hardly swallowed,before he began copying the documents which he procured from M.

Chapelain's successor.

And often he worked quite late in the night whilst by his side Mlle.

Lucienne applied herself to some work of embroidery.

The girl was the cashier of the association; and she administeredthe common capital with such skillful and such scrupulous economy,that Maxence soon succeeded in paying off his creditors.

"Do you know," she was saying at the end of December, "that, betweenus, we have earned over six hundred francs this month?"On Sundays only, after a week of which not a minute had been lost,they indulged in some little recreation.

If the weather was not too bad, they went out together, dined insome modest restaurant, and finished the day at the theatre.

Having thus a common existence, both young, free, and having theirrooms divided only by a narrow passage it was difficult that peopleshould believe in the innocence of their intercourse. Theproprietors of the Hotel des Folies believed nothing of the kind;and they were not alone in that opinion.

Mlle. Lucienne having continued to show herself in the Bois on theafternoons when the weather was fine, the number of fools who annoyedher with their attentions had greatly increased. Among the mostobstinate could be numbered M. Costeclar, who was pleased todeclare, upon his word of honor, that he had lost his sleep, andhis taste for business, since the day when, together with M. SaintPavin, he had first seen Mlle. Lucienne.

The efforts of his valet, and the letters which he had written,having proved useless, M. Costeclar had made up his mind to act inperson; and gallantly he had come to put himself on guard in frontof the Hotel des Folies.

Great was his surprise, when he saw Mlle. Lucienne coming out armin arm with Maxence; and greater still was his spite.

"That girl is a fool," he thought, "to prefer to me a fellow whohas not two hundred francs a month to spend. But never mind! Helaughs best who laughs last."And, as he was a man fertile in expedients, he went the next dayto take a walk in the neighborhood of the Mutual Credit; and, havingmet M. Favoral by chance, he told him how his son Maxence was ruininghimself for a young lady whose toilets were a scandal, insinuatingdelicately that it was his duty, as the head of the family, to put astop to such a thing.

This was precisely the time when Maxence was endeavoring to obtaina situation in the office of the Mutual Credit.

It is true that the idea was not original with him, and that he hadeven vehemently rejected it, when, for the first time, Mlle.

Lucienne had suggested it.

"What!" had he exclaimed, "be employed in the same establishment asmy father? Suffer at the office the same intolerable despotism asat home? I'd rather break stones on the roads."But Mlle. Lucienne was not the girl to give up so easily a projectconceived and carefully matured by herself.

She returned to the charge with that infinite art of women, whounderstand so marvelously well how to turn a position which theycannot carry in front. She kept the matter so well before him, shespoke of it so often and so much, on every occasion, and under allpretexts, that he ended by persuading himself that it was the onlyreasonable and practical thing he could do, the only way in whichhe had any chance of making his fortune; and so, one eveningovercoming his last hesitations,"I am going to speak about it to my father," he said to Mlle.

Lucienne.

But whether he had been influenced by M. Costeclar's insinuations,or for some other reason, M. Favoral had rejected indignantly hisson's request, saying that it was impossible to trust a young manwho was ruining himself for the sake of a miserable creature.

Maxence had become crimson with rage on hearing the woman spoken ofthus, whom he loved to madness, and who, far from ruining him, wasmaking him.

He returned to the Hotel des Folies in an indescribable state ofexasperation.

"There's the result," he said to Mlle. Lucienne, "of the step whichyou have urged me so strongly to take."She seemed neither surprised nor irritated.

"Very well," she replied simply.

But Maxence could not resign himself so quietly to such a crueldisappointment; and, not having the slightest suspicion ofCosteclar's doings,"And such is," he added, "the result of all the gossip of thesestupid shop-keepers who run to see you every time you go out inthe carriage.

The girl shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. "I expected it,"she said, "the day when I accepted M. Van Klopen's offers.""Everybody believes that you are my mistress.""What matters it, since it is not so?"Maxence did not dare to confess that this was precisely what madehim doubly angry; and he shuddered at the thought of the ridiculethat would certainly be heaped upon him, if the true state of thecase was known.

"We ought to move," he suggested.

"What's the use? Wherever we should go, it would be the same thing.

Besides, I don't want to leave this neighborhood.""And I am too much your friend not to tell you, that your reputationin it is absolutely lost."I have no accounts to render to any one.""Except to your friend the commissary of police, however."A pale smile flitted upon her lips. "Ah!" she uttered, "he knowsthe truth.""You have seen him again, then?""Several times.""Since we have known each other?""Yes.""And you never told me anything about it?""I did not think it necessary."Maxence insisted no more; but, by the sharp pang that he felt, herealized how dear Mlle. Lucienne had become to him.

"She has secrets from me," thought he, - "from me who would deem ita crime to have any from her."What secrets? Had she concealed from him that she was pursuing anobject which had become, as it were, that of her whole life. Hadshe not told him, that with the assistance of her friend thepeace-officer, who had now become commissary of police of thedistrict, she hoped to penetrate the mystery of her birth, and torevenge herself on the villains, who, three times, had attempted todo away with her?

She had never mentioned her projects again; but it was evident thatshe had not abandoned them, for she would at the same time havegiven up her rides to the bois, which were to her an abominabletorment.

But passion can neither reason nor discuss.

"She mistrusts me, who would give my life for hers" repeated Maxence.

And the idea was so painful to him, that he resolved to clear hisdoubts at any cost, preferring the worst misery to the anxiety whichwas gnawing at his heart.

And as soon as he found himself alone with Mlle. Lucienne, arminghimself with all his courage, and looking her straight in the eyes,"You never speak to me any more of your enemies?" he said.

She doubtless understood what was passing within him.

"It's because I don't hear any thing of them myself," she answeredgently.

"Then you have given up your purpose?"Not at all.""What are your hopes, then, and what are your prospects?""Extraordinary as it may seem to you, I must confess that I knownothing about it. My friend the commissary has his plan, I amcertain; and he is following it with an indefatigable obstinacy.

I am but an instrument in his hands. I never do any thing withoutconsulting him; and what he advises me to do I do."Maxence started upon his chair.

"Was it he, then," he said in a tone of bitter irony, "who suggestedto you the idea of our fraternal association?"A frown appeared upon the girl's countenance. She evidently felthurt by the tone of this species of interrogatory.

"At least he did not disapprove of it," she replied.

But that answer was just evasive enough to excite Maxence's anxiety.

"Was it from him too," he went on "that came the lovely idea ofhaving me enter the Mutual Credit?""Yes, it was from him.""For what purpose?""He did not explain.""Why did you not tell me?""Because he requested me not to do so."From being red at the start, Maxence had now become very pale.

"And so," he resumed, "it is that man, that police-agent, who isthe real arbiter of my fate; and if to-morrow he commanded you tobreak off with me -"Mlle. Lucienne drew herself up.

"Enough!" she interrupted in a brief tone, enough! There is notin my whole existence a single act which would give to my bitterestenemy the right to suspect my loyalty; and now you accuse me ofthe basest treason. What have you to reproach me with? Have Inot been faithful to the pact sworn between us. Have I not alwaysbeen for you the best of comrades and the most devoted of friends?

I remained silent, because the man in whom I have the fullestconfidence requested me to do so; but he knew, that, if youquestioned me, I would speak. Did you question me? And now whatmore do you want? That I should stoop to quiet the suspicions ofyour morbid mind? That I do not mean to do."She was not, perhaps, entirely right; but Maxence was certainlywrong. He acknowledged it, wept, implored her pardon, which wasgranted; and this explanation only served to rivet more closelythe fetters that bound him.

It is true, that, availing himself of the permission that had beengranted him, he kept himself constantly informed of Mlle. Lucienne'sdoings. He learnt from her that her friend the commissary had helda most minute investigation at Louveciennes, and that the footmanwho went to the bois with her was now, in reality, a detective.

And at last, one day,"My friend the commissary," she said, "thinks he is on the righttrack now."
Chapter XXIX
       Such was the exact situation of Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne on thateventful Saturday evening in the month of April, 1872, when thepolice came to arrest M. Vincent Favoral, on the charge ofembezzlement and forgery.

It will be remembered, how, at his mother's request, Maxence hadspent 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 aloneat home.

He retired to his room, as she had requested him, and, sinkingupon his old arm-chair in a fit of the deepest distress,"She is singing," he murmured: "Mme. Fortin has not told her anything."And at the same moment Mlle. Lucienne had resumed her song, thewords of which reached him like a bitter raillery,"Hope! 0 sweet, deceiving word!

Mad indeed is he,Who does think he can trust thee,And take thy coin can afford.

Over his door every oneWill hang thee to his sorrow,Then saying of days begone,'Cash to-day, credit to-morrow!'

'Tis very nice to run;But to have is better fun!""What will she say," thought Maxence, "when she learns the horribletruth?"And he felt a cold perspiration starting on his temples when heremembered Mlle. Lucienne's pride, and that honor has her only faith,the safety-plank to which she had desperately clung in the midst ofthe storms of her life. What if she should leave him, now that thename he bore was disgraced!

A rapid and light step on the landing drew him from his gloomythoughts. Almost immediately, the door opened, and Mlle. Luciennecame in.

She must have dressed in haste; for she was just finishing hookingher dress, the simplicity of which seemed studied, so marvelouslydid it set off the elegance of her figure, the splendors of herwaist, and the rare perfections of her shoulders and of her neck.

A look of intense dissatisfaction could be read upon her lovelyfeatures; but, as soon as she had seen Maxence, her countenancechanged.

And, in fact, his look of utter distress, the disorder of hisgarments, his livid paleness, and the sinister look of his eyes,showed plainly enough that a great misfortune had befallen him.

In a voice whose agitation betrayed something more than the anxietyand the sympathy. of a friend,"What is the matter? What has happened?" inquired the girl.

"A terrible misfortune," he replied.

He was hesitating: he wished to tell every thing at once, and knewnot how to begin.

"I have told you," he said, "that my family was very rich.""Yes.""Well, we have nothing left, absolutely nothing!' She seemed tobreathe more freely, and, in a tone of friendly irony,"And it is the loss of your fortune," she said, "that distressesyou thus?"He raised himself painfully to his feet, and, in a low hoarse voice,"Honor is lost too," he uttered.

"Honor?""Yes. My father has stolen: my father has forged!"She had become whiter than her collar.

"Your father!" she stammered.

"Yes. For years he has been using the money that was intrusted tohim, until the deficit now amounts to twelve millions.""Great heavens!""And, notwithstanding the enormity of that sum, he was reduced,during the latter months, to the most miserable expedients, - goingfrom door to door in the neighborhood, soliciting deposits, untilhe actually basely swindled a poor newspaper-vender out of fivehundred francs.""Why, this is madness! And how did you find out?""Last night they came to arrest him. Fortunately we had beennotified; and I helped him to escape through a window of my sister'sroom, which opens on the yard of an adjoining house.""And where is he now?""Who knows?""Had he any money?""Everybody thinks that he carries off millions. I do not believeit. He even refused to take the few thousand francs which M. deThaller had brought him to facilitate his flight."Mlle. Lucienne shuddered.

"Did you see M. de Thaller?" she asked.

"He got to the house a few moment in advance of the commissary ofpolice; and a terrible scene took place between him and my father.""What was he saying?""That my father had ruined him.""And your father?""He stammered incoherent phrases. He was like a man who hasreceived a stunning blow. But we have discovered incredible things.

My father, so austere and so parsimonious at home, led a merry lifeelsewhere, spending money without stint. It was for a woman thathe robbed.""And - do you know who that woman is?""No. But I can find out from the writer of the article in thispaper, who says that he knows her. See!"Mlle. Lucienne took the paper which Maxence was holding out to her:

but she hardly condescended to look at it.

"But what's your idea now?""I do not believe that my father is innocent; but I believe thatthere are people more guilty than he, - skillful and prudent knaves,who have made use of him as a man of straw, - villains who willquietly digest their share of the millions (the biggest one, ofcourse), while he will be sent to prison."A fugitive blush colored Mlle. Lucienne's cheeks.

"That being the case," she interrupted, "what do you expect to do?""Avenge my father, if possible, and discover his accomplices, if hehas any."She held out her hand to him.

"That's right," she said. "But how will you go about it?""I don't know yet. At any rate, I must first of all run to thenewspaper office, and get that woman's address."But Mlle. Lucienne stopped him.

"No," she uttered: "it isn't there that you must go. You must comewith me to see my friend the commissary."Maxence received this suggestion with a gesture of surprise, almostof terror.

"Why, how can you think of such a thing?" he exclaimed. "My fatheris fleeing from justice; and you want me to take for my confidant acommissary of police, - the very man whose duty it is to arrest him,if he can find him!"But he interrupted himself for a moment, staring and gaping, as ifthe truth had suddenly flashed upon his mind in dazzling evidence.

"For my father has not gone abroad," he went on. "It is in Paristhat he is hiding: I am sure of it. You have seen him?"Mlle. Lucienne really thought that Maxence was losing his mind.

"I have seen your father - I?" she said.

"Yes, last evening. How could I have forgotten it? While you werewaiting for me down stairs, between eleven and half-past eleven amiddle-aged man, thin, wearing a long overcoat, came and asked forme.""Yes, I remember.""He spoke to you in the yard.""That's a fact.""What did he tell you?"She hesitated for a moment, evidently trying to tax her memory; then,"Nothing," she replied, "that he had not already said before theFortins; that he wanted to see you on important business, and wassorry not to find you in. What surprised me, though, is, that hewas speaking as if he knew me, and knew that I was a friend of yours."Then, striking her forehead," Perhaps you are right," she went on. "Perhaps that man was indeedyour father. Wait a minute. Yes, he seemed quite excited, and atevery moment he looked around towards the door. He said it would beimpossible for him to return, but that he would write to you, andthat probably he would require your assistance and your services.""You see," exclaimed Maxence, almost crazy with subdued excitement,"it was my father. He is going to write; to return, perhaps; and,under the circumstances, to apply to a commissary of police wouldbe sheer folly, almost treason."She shook her head.

"So much the more reason," she uttered, "why you should follow myadvice. Have you ever had occasion to repent doing so?""No, but you may be mistaken.""I am not mistaken."She expressed herself in a tone of such absolute-certainty, thatMaxence, in the disorder of his mind, was at a loss to know what toimagine, what to believe.

"You must have some reason to urge me thus," he said.

"I have.""Why not tell it to me then?""Because I should have no proofs to furnish you of my assertions.

Because I should have to go into details which you would notunderstand. Because, above all, I am following one of thoseinexplicable presentiments which never deceive."It was evident that she was not willing to unveil her whole mind;and yet Maxence felt himself terribly staggered.

Think of my agony," he said, " if I were to cause my father's arrest.""Would my own be less? Can any misfortune strike you withoutreaching me? Let us reason a little. What were you saying a momentsince? 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 theinstrument of rascals more skillful and more powerful than himself;and that he has had but a small share of the twelve millions?""Such is my absolute conviction.""And that you would like to deliver up to justice the villains whohave benefitted by your father's crime, and who think themselves sureof impunity?"Tears of anger fell from Maxence's eyes.

"Do you wish to take away all my courage?" he murmured.

"No; but I wish to demonstrate to you the necessity of the stepwhich I advise you to take. The end justifies the means; and wehave not the choice of means. Come, 'tis to an honest man and atried friend that I shall take you. Fear nothing. If he remembersthat he is commissary of police, it will be to serve us, not toinjure you. You hesitate? Perhaps at this moment he alreadyknows more than we do ourselves."Maxence took a sudden resolution.

Very well," he said: "let us go."In less than five minutes they were off; and, as they went out, theyhad to disturb Mme. Fortin, who stood at the door, gossiping withtwo or three of the neighboring shop-keepers.

As soon as Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne were out of hearing,"You see that young man," said the honorable proprietress of theHotel des Folies to her interlocutors. "Well, he is the son of thatfamous cashier who has just run off with twelve millions, afterruining a thousand families. It don'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's money."Meantime, Maxence and Lucienne reached the commissary's house. Hewas at home; they walked in. And, as soon as they appeared,"I expected you," he said.

He was a man already past middle age, but active and vigorous still.

With his white cravat and long frock-coat, he looked like a notary.

Benign was the expression of his countenance; but the lustre of hislittle gray eyes, and the mobility of his nostrils, showed that itshould not be trusted too far.

"Yes, I expected you," he repeated, addressing himself as much toMaxence as to Mlle. Lucienne. "It is the Mutual Credit matter whichbrings you here?"Maxence stepped forward,"I am Vincent Favoral's son, sir," he replied. "I have still mymother and a sister. Our situation is horrible. Mlle. Luciennesuggested that you might be willing to give me some advice; and herewe are."The commissary rang, and, on the bell being answered,"I am at home for no one," he said.

And then turning to Maxence,"Mlle. Lucienne did well to bring you," he said; "for it may be,that, whilst rendering her an important service, I may also renderyou one. But I have no time to lose. Sit down, and tell me allabout it." With the most scrupulous exactness Maxence told thehistory of his family, and the events of the past twenty-four hours.

Not once did the commissary interrupt him; but, when he had done,"Tell me your father's interview with M. de Thaller all over again,"he requested, "and, especially, do not omit any thing that you haveheard or seen, not a word, not a gesture, not a look."And, Maxence having complied,"Now," said the commissary, "repeat every thing your father said atthe moment of going."He did so. The commissary took a few notes, and then,"What were," he inquired, "the relations of your family with theThaller family?""There were none.

"What! Neither Mme. nor Mlle. de Thaller ever visited you?""Never.""Do you know the Marquis de Tregars?"Maxence stared in surprise.

"Tregars! " he repeated. "It's the first time that I hear thatname."The usual clients of the commissary would have hesitated to recognizehim, so completely had he set aside his professional stiffness, somuch had his freezing reserve given way to the most encouragingkindness.

"Now, then," he resumed, "never mind M. de Tregars: let us talk ofthe woman, who, you seem to think, has been the cause of M. Favoral'sruin."On the table before him lay the paper in which Maxence had read inthe morning the terrible article headed: Another Financial Disaster.""I know nothing of that woman," he replied; "but it must be easy tofind out, since the writer of this article pretends to know."The commissary smiled, not having quite as much faith in newspapersas Maxence seemed to have.

"Yes, I read that," he said.

"We might send to the office of that paper," suggested Mlle. Lucienne.

"I have already sent, my child."And, without noticing the surprise of Maxence and of the young girl,he rang the bell, and asked whether his secretary had returned. Thesecretary answered by appearing in person.

"Well?" inquired the commissary.

"I have attended to the matter, sir," he replied. "I saw thereporter who wrote the article in question; and, after beating aboutthe bush for some time, he finally confessed that he knew nothingmore than had been published, and that he had obtained hisinformation from two intimate friends of the cashier, M. Costeclarand M. Saint Pavin.""You should have gone to see those gentlemen.""I did.""Very well. What then?""Unfortunately, M. Costeclar had just gone out. As to M. SaintPavin, I found him at the office of his paper, 'The Financial Pilot.'

He is a coarse and vulgar personage, and received me like apickpocket. I had even a notion to -""Never mind that! Go on.""He was closeted with another gentleman, a banker, named Jottras,of the house of Jottras and Brother. They were both in a terriblerage, swearing like troopers, and saying that the Favoraldefalcation would ruin them; that they had been taken in like fools,but that they were not going to take things so easy, and they werepreparing a crushing article."But he stopped, winking, and pointing to Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne,who were listening as attentively as they could.

"Speak, speak!" said the commissary. "Fear nothing.""Well," he went on, "M. Saint Pavin and M. Jottras were saying thatM. Favoral was only a poor dupe, but that they would know how tofind the others.""What others?""Ah! they didn't say."The commissary shrugged his shoulders.

"What!" he exclaimed, "you find yourself in presence of two menfurious to have been duped, who swear and threaten, and you can'tget from them a name that you want? You are not very smart,my dear!"And as the poor secretary, somewhat put out of countenance, lookeddown, and said nothing,"Did you at least ask them," he resumed, "who the woman is to whomthe article refers, and whose existence they have revealed to thereporter?""Of course I did, sir.""And what did they answer?""That they were not spies, and had nothing to say, M. Saint Pavinadded, however, that he had said it without much thought, and onlybecause he had once seen M. Favoral buying a three thousand francsbracelet, and also because it seemed impossible to him that a manshould do away with millions without the aid of a woman."The commissary could not conceal his ill humor.

"Of course!" he grumbled. "Since Solomon said, 'Look for the woman'

(for it was King Solomon who first said it), every fool thinks itsmart to repeat with a cunning look that most obvious of truths.

What next?""M. Saint Pavin politely invited me to go to - well, not here."The commissary wrote rapidly a few lines, put them in an envelope,which he sealed with his private seal, and handed it to hissecretary, saying,"That will do. Take this to the prefecture yourself." And, afterthe secretary had gone out,"Well, M. Maxence," he said, "you have heard?" Of course he had.

Only Maxence was thinking much less of what he had just heard thanof the strange interest this commissary had taken in his affairs,even before he had seen him.

"I think," he stammered, "that it is very unfortunate the womancannot be found."With a gesture full of confidence,"Be easy," said the commissary: "she shall be found. A woman cannotswallow millions at that rate, without attracting attention.

Believe me, we shall find her, unless -"He paused for a moment, and, speaking slowly and emphatically,"Unless," he added, "she should have behind her a very skillful andvery prudent man. Or else that she should be in a situation whereher extravagance could not have created any scandal."Mlle. Lucienne started. She fancied she understood the commissary'sidea, and could catch a glimpse of the truth.

"Good heavens!" she murmured.

But Maxence didn't notice any thing, his mind being wholly bent uponfollowing the commissary's deductions.

"Or unless," he said, "my father should have received almost nothingfor his share of the enormous sums subtracted from the Mutual Credit,in which case he could have given relatively but little to that woman.

M.Saint Pavin himself acknowledges that my father has beenegregiously taken in.""By whom?""Maxence hesitated for a moment.

"I think," he said at last, "and several friends of my family (amongwhom M. Chapelain, an old lawyer) think as I do, that it is verystrange that my father should have drawn millions from the MutualCredit without any knowledge of the fact on the part of the manager.""Then, according to you, M. de Thaller must be an accomplice."Maxence made no answer.

"Be it so," insisted the commissary. " I admit M. de Thaller'scomplicity; but then we must suppose that he had over your fathersome powerful means of action."An employer always has a great deal of influence over hissubordinates.""An influence sufficiently powerful to make them run the risk ofthe galleys for his benefit! That is not likely. We must try andimagine something else.""I am trying; but I don't find any thing.""And yet it is not all. How do you explain your father's silencewhen M. de Thaller was heaping upon him the most outrageous insults?""My father was stunned, as it were.""And at the moment of escaping, if he did have any accomplices, howis it that he did not mention their names to you, to your mother,or to your sister?""Because, doubtless, he had no proofs of their complicity to offer.""Would you have asked him for any?""0 sir!""Therefore such is not evidently the motive of his silence; and itmight better be attributed to some secret hope that he still hadleft."The commissary now had all the information, which, voluntarily orotherwise, Maxence was able to give him. He rose, and in thekindest tone,"You have come," he said to him, "to ask me for advice. Here it is:

say nothing, and wait. Allow justice and the police to pursue theirwork. Whatever may be your suspicions, hide them. I shall do foryou as I would for Lucienne, whom I love as if she were my ownchild; for it so happens, that, in helping you, I shall help her."He could not help laughing at the astonishment, which at those wordsdepicted itself upon Maxence's face; and gayly,"You don't understand," he added. "Well, never mind. It is notnecessary that you should."
Chapter XXX
       Two o'clock struck as Mlle. Lucienne and Maxence left the officeof the commissary of police, she pensive and agitated, he gloomy andirritated. They reached the Hotel des Folies without exchanging aword. Mme. Fortin was again at the door, speechifying in the midstof a group with indefatigable volubility. Indeed, it was a perfectgodsend for her, the fact of lodging the son of that cashier whohad stolen twelve millions, and had thus suddenly become a celebrity.

Seeing Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne coming, she stepped toward them,and, with her most obsequious smile,"Back already?" she said.

But they made no answer; and, entering the narrow corridor, theyhurried to their fourth story. As he entered his room, Maxencethrew his hat upon his bed with a gesture of impatience; and, afterwalking up and down for a moment, he returned to plant himself infront of Mlle. Lucienne.

"Well," he said, "are you satisfied now?"She looked at him with an air of profound commiseration, knowinghis weakness too well to be angry at his injustice.

"Of what should I be satisfied?" she asked gently.

"I have done what you wished me to.""You did what reason dictated, my friend.""Very well: we won't quarrel about words. I have seen your friendthe commissary. Am I any better off?"She shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly.

"What did you expect of him, then?" she asked. "Did you think thathe could undo what is done? Did you suppose, that, by the solepower of his will, he would make up the deficit in the MutualCredit's cash, and rehabilitate your father?""No, I am not quite mad yet.""Well, then, could he do more than promise you his most ardent anddevoted co-operation?"But he did not allow her to proceed.

"And how do I know," he exclaimed, "that he is not trifling with me?

If he was sincere, why his reticence and his enigmas? He pretendsthat I may rely on him, because to serve me is to serve you. Whatdoes that mean? What connection is there between your situation andmine, between your enemies and those of my father? And I - I repliedto all his questions like a simpleton. Poor fool! But the man whodrowns catches at straws; and I am drowning, I am sinking, I amfoundering."He sank upon a chair, and, hiding his face in his hands,"Ah, how I do suffer!" he groaned.

Mlle. Lucienne approached him, and in a severe tone, despite heremotion,"Are you, then, such a coward?" she uttered. "What! at the firstmisfortune that strikes you, - and this is the first real misfortuneof your life, Maxence, - you despair. An obstacle rises, and,instead of gathering all your energy to overcome it, you sit downand weep like a woman. Who, then, is to inspire courage in yourmother and in your sister, if you give up so?"At the sound of these words, uttered by that voice which wasall-powerful over his soul, Maxence looked up.

"I thank you, my friend," he said. "I thank you for reminding meof what I owe to my mother and sister. Poor women! They arewondering, doubtless, what has become of me.""You must return to them," interrupted the girl.

He got up resolutely.

"I will," he replied. "I should be unworthy of you if I could notraise my own energy to the level of yours."And, having pressed her hand, he left. But it was not by the usualroute that he reached the Rue St. Gilles. He made a long detour, soas not to meet any of his acquaintances.

"Here you are at last," said the servant as she opened the door.

"Madame was getting very uneasy, I can tell you. She is in theparlor, with Mlle. Gilberte and M. Chapelain."It was so. After his fruitless attempt to reach M. de Thaller, M.

Chapelain had breakfasted there, and had remained, wishing, he said,to see Maxence. And so, as soon as the young man appeared, availinghimself of the privileges of his age and his old intimacy,"How," said he, "dare you leave your mother and sister alone in ahouse where some brutal creditor may come in at any moment?""I was wrong," said Maxence, who preferred to plead guilty ratherthan attempt an explanation.

"Don't do it again then," resumed M. Chapelain. "I was waiting foryou to say that I was unable to see M. de Thaller, and that I do notcare to face once more the impudence of his valets. You will,therefore, have to take back the fifteen thousand francs he hadbrought to your father. Place them in his own hands; and don'tgive them up without a receipt."After some further recommendations, he went off, leaving Mme. Favoralalone at last with her children. She was about to call Maxence toaccount for his absence, when Mlle. Gilberte interrupted her.

"I have to speak to you, mother," she said with a singularprecipitation, "and to you also, brother."And at once she began telling them of M. Costeclar's strange visit,his inconceivable audacity, and his offensive declarations.

Maxence was fairly stamping with rage.

"And I was not here," he exclaimed, "to put him out of the house!"But another was there; and this was just what Mlle. Gilberte wishedto come to. But the avowal was difficult, painful even; and it wasnot without some degree of confusion that she resumed at last,"You have suspected for a long time, mother, that I was hidingsomething from you. When you questioned me, I lied; not that I hadany thing to blush for, but because I feared for you my father'sanger."Her mother and her brother were gazing at her with a look of blankamazement.

"Yes, I had a secret," she continued. "Boldly, without consultingany one, trusting the sole inspirations of my heart, I had engagedmy life to a stranger: I had selected the man whose wife I wishedto be."Mme. Favoral raised her hands to heaven.

"But this is sheer madness!" she said.

"Unfortunately," went on the girl, "between that man, my affiancedhusband before God, and myself, rose a terrible obstacle. He waspoor: he thought my father very rich; and he had asked me a delayof three years to conquer a fortune which might enable him to aspireto my hand."She stopped: all the blood in her veins was rushing to her face.

"This morning," she said, "at the news of our disaster, he came...

"Here?" interrupted Maxence.

"Yes, brother, here. He arrived at the very moment, when, baselyinsulted by M. Costeclar, I commanded him to withdraw, and, insteadof going, he was walking towards me with outstretched arms.""He dared to penetrate here!" murmured Mme. Favoral.

"Yes, mother: he came in just in time to seize M. Costeclar by hiscoat-collar, and to throw him at my feet, livid with fear, andbegging for mercy. He came, notwithstanding the terrible calamitythat has befallen us. Notwithstanding ruin, and notwithstandingshame, he came to offer me his name, and to tell me, that, in thecourse of the day, he would send a friend of his family to appriseyou of his intentions."Here she was interrupted by the servant, who, throwing open theparlor-door, announced,"The Count de Villegre."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 mereappearance of the man who now walked in must have been enough todisabuse them.

He was of a rather formidable aspect, with his military bearing, hisbluff manners, his huge white mustache, and the deep scar acrosshis forehead.

But in order to be re-assured, and to feel confident, it was enoughto look at his broad face, at once energetic and debonair, his cleareye, in which shone the loyalty of his soul, and his thick red lips,which had never opened to utter an untruth.

At this moment, however, he was hardly in possession of all hisfaculties.

That valiant man, that old soldier, was timid; and he would havefelt much more at ease under the fire of a battery than in thathumble parlor in the Rue St. Gilles, under the uneasy glance ofMaxence and Mme. Favoral.

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.

Eloquence was not his forte. He had prepared himself well inadvance; but though he kept coughing: hum! broum! though he keptrunning his finger around his shirt-collar to facilitate hisdelivery, the beginning of his speech stuck in his throat.

Seeing how urgent it was to come to his assistance,"I was expecting you, sir," said Mlle. Gilberte. With thisencouragement, he advanced towards Mme. Favoral, and, bowing low,"I see that my presence surprises you, madame," he began; "and Imust confess that - hum! - it does not surprise me less than it doesyou. But extraordinary circumstances require exceptional action.

On any other occasion, I would not fall upon you like a bombshell.

But we had no time to waste in ceremonious formalities. I will,therefore, ask your leave to introduce myself: I am General Countde Villegre."Maxence had brought him a chair.

"I am ready to hear you, sir," said Mme. Favoral. He sat down, and,with a further effort,"I suppose, madame," he resumed, " that your daughter has explainedto you our singular situation, which, as I had the honor of tellingyou - hum! - is not strictly in accordance with social usage."Mlle. Gilberte interrupted him.

"When you came in, general, I was only just beginning to explainthe facts to my mother and brother."The old soldier made a gesture, and a face which showed plainly thathe did not much relish the prospect of a somewhat difficultexplanation - broum! Nevertheless, making up his mind bravely,"It is very simple," he said: "I come in behalf of M. de Tregars."Maxence fairly bounced upon his chair. That was the very name whichhe had just heard mentioned by the commissary of police.

"Tregars!" he repeated in a tone of immense surprise.

"Yes," said M. de Villegre. "Do you know him, by chance?"No, sir, no!""Marius de Tregars is the son of the most honest man I ever knew, ofthe best friend I ever had, - of the Marquis de Tregars, in a word,who died of grief a few years ago, after - hum! - some quiteinexplicable - broum! - reverses of fortune. Marius could not bedearer to me, if he were my own son. He has lost his parents: Ihave no relatives; and I have transferred to him all the feelingsof affection which still remained at the bottom of my old heart.

"And I can say that never was a man more worthy of affection. Iknow him. To the most legitimate pride and the most scrupulousintegrity, he unites a keen and supple mind, and wit enough to getthe better of the toughest rascal. He has no fortune for the reasonthat - hum! - he gave up all he had to certain pretended creditorsof his father. But whenever he wishes to be rich, he shall be; and- broum! - he may be so before long. I know his projects, his hopes,his resources.

But, as if feeling that he was treading on dangerous ground, theCount de Villegre stopped short, and, after taking breath for amoment,"In short," he went on, "Marius has been unable to see Mlle.

Gilberte, and to appreciate the rare qualities of her heart,without falling desperately in love with her."Mme. Favoral made a gesture of protest,"Allow me, sir," she began.

But he interrupted her.

"I understand you, madame," he resumed. "You wonder how M. deTregars can have seen your daughter, have known her, and haveappreciated her, without your seeing or hearing any thing of it.

Nothing is more simple, and, if I may venture to say - hum! - morenatural."And the worthy old soldier began to explain to Mme. Favoral themeetings in the Place-Royale, his conversations with Marius,intended really for Mlle. Gilberte, and the part he had consentedto play in this little comedy. But he became embarrassed in hissentences, he multiplied his hum! and his broum! in the mostalarming manner; and his explanations explained nothing.

Mlle. Gilberte took pity on him; and, kindly interrupting him, sheherself told her story, and that of Marius.

She told the pledge they had exchanged, how they had seen each othertwice, and how they constantly heard of each other through the veryinnocent and very unconscious Signor Gismondo Pulei.

Maxence and Mme. Favoral were dumbfounded. They would haveabsolutely refused to believe such a story, had it not been told byMlle. Gilberte herself.

"Ah, my dear sister!" thought Maxence, "who could have suspectedsuch a thing, seeing you always so calm and so meek!""Is it possible," Mme. Favoral was saying to herself; "that I canhave been so blind and so deaf?"As to the Count de Villegre, he would have tried in vain to expressthe gratitude he felt towards Mlle. Gilberte for having spared himthese difficult explanations.

"I could not have done half as well myself, by the eternal!" hethought, like a man who has no illusions on his own account.

But, as soon as she had done, addressing himself to Mme. Favoral,"Now, madame," he said, "you know all; and you will understandthat the irreparable disaster that strikes you has removed theonly obstacle which had hitherto stood in the way of Marius."He rose, and in a solemn tone, without any hum or broum, this time,"I have the honor, madame," he uttered, "to solicit the hand of Mlle.

Gilberte, your daughter, for my friend Yves-Marius de Genost, Marquisde Tregars."A profound silence followed this speech. But this silence the Countde Villegre doubtless interpreted in his own favor; for, stepping tothe parlor-door, he opened it, and called, "Marius!"Marius de Tregars had foreseen all that had just taken place, andhad so informed the Count de Villegre in advance.

Being given Mme. Favoral's disposition, he knew what could beexpected of her; and he had his own reasons to fear nothing fromMaxence. And, if he mistrusted somewhat the diplomatic talentsof his ambassador, he relied absolutely upon Mlle. Gilberte's energy.

And so confident was he of the correctness of his calculations, thathe had insisted upon accompanying his old friend, so as to be onhand at the critical moment.

When the servant had opened the door to them, he had ordered her tointroduce M. de Villegre, stating that he would himself wait in thedining-room. This arrangement had not seemed entirely natural tothe girl; but so many strange things had happened in the house forthe past twenty-four hours, that she was prepared for any thing.

Besides recognizing Marius as the gentleman who had had a violentaltercation in the morning with M. Costeclar, she did as herequested, and, leaving him alone in the dining-room, went toattend to her duties.

He had taken a seat, impassive in appearance, but in realityagitated by that internal trepidation of which the strongest mencannot free themselves in the decisive moments of their life.

To a certain extent, the prospects of his whole life were to bedecided on the other side of that door which had just closed behindthe Count de Villegre. To the success of his love, other interestswere united, which required immediate success.

And, counting the seconds by the beatings of his heart,"How very slow they are!" he thought.

And so, when the door opened at last, and his old friend called him,he jumped to his feet, and collecting all his coolness andself-possession, he walked in.

Maxence had risen to receive him; but, when he saw him, he steppedback, his eyes glaring in utter surprise.

"Ah, great heavens!" he muttered in a smothered voice.

But M. de Tregars seemed not to notice his stupor. Quiteself-possessed, notwithstanding his emotion, he cast a rapid glanceover the Count de Villegre, Mme. Favoral and Mlle. Gilberte. Attheir attitude, and at the expression of their countenance, heeasily guessed the point to which things had come.

And, advancing towards Mme. Favoral, he bowed with an amount ofrespect which was certainly not put on.

"You have heard the Count de Villegre, madame," he said in aslightly altered tone of voice. " I am awaiting my fate."The poor woman had never before in all her life been so fearfullyperplexed. All these events, which succeeded each other so rapidly,had broken the feeble springs of her soul. She was utterly incapableof collecting her thoughts, or of taking a determination.

"At this moment, sir," she stammered, taken unawares, " it would beimpossible for me to answer you. Grant me a few days for reflection.

We have some old friends whom I ought to consult."But Maxence, who had got over his stupor, interrupted her.

"Friends mother!" he exclaimed. "And who are they? People in ourposition have no friends. What! when we are perishing, a man ofheart holds out his hand to us, and you ask to reflect? To mysister, who bears a name henceforth disgraced, the Marquis deTregar offers his name, and you think of consulting "The poor woman was shaking her head.

"I am not the mistress, my son," she murmured; "and your father - "My father! interrupted the young man, - "my father! What rightscan he have over us hereafter?" And without further discussion,without awaiting an answer, he took his sister's hand, and,placing it in M. de Tregar's hand,"Ah! take her, sir," he uttered. "Never, whatever she may do, willshe acquit the debt of eternal gratitude which we this day contracttowards you."A tremor that shook their frames, a long look which they exchanged,betrayed alone the feelings of Marius and Mlle. Gilberte. They hadof life a too cruel experience not to mistrust their joy.

Returning to Mme. Favoral,"You do not understand, madame," he went on, "why I should haveselected for such a step the very moment when an irreparable calamitybefalls you. One word will explain all. Being in a position toserve you, I wished to acquire the right of doing so."Fixing upon him a look in which the gloomiest despair could be read,"Alas!" stammered the poor woman, "what can you do for me, sir? Mylife is ended. I have but one wish left, - that of knowing wheremy husband is hid. It is not for me to judge him. He has not givenme the happiness which I had, perhaps, the right to expect; but heis my husband, he is unhappy: my duty is to join him wherever he maybe, and to share his sufferings."She was interrupted by the servant, who was calling her at theparlor-door, "Madame, madame!""What is the matter?" inquired Maxence.

"I must speak to madame at once.

Making an effort to rise and walk, Mme. Favoral went out. She wasgone but a minute; and, when she returned, her agitation had furtherincreased. "It is the hand of Providence, perhaps," she said. Theothers were all looking at her anxiously. She took a seat, and,addressing herself more especially to M. de Tregars,"This is what happens," she said in a feeble voice. "M. Favoralwas in the habit of always changing his coat as soon as he came home.

As usual, he did so last evening. When they came to arrest him, heforgot to change again, and went off with the coat he had on. Theother remained hanging in the room, where the girl took it just nowto brush it, and put it away; and this portfolio, which my husbandalways carries with him, fell from its pocket."It was an old Russia leather portfolio, which had once been red, butwhich time and use had turned black. It was full of papers.

"Perhaps, indeed," exclaimed Maxence, "we may find some informationthere."He opened it, and had already taken out three-fourths of its contentswithout finding any thing of any consequence, when suddenly heuttered an exclamation. He had just opened an anonymous note,evidently written in a disguised hand, and at one glance had read,"I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through thatVan Klopen matter. There is the danger.""What is that note?" inquired M. de Tregars.

Maxence handed it to him.

"See!" said he, "but you will not understand the immense interestit has for me."But having read it,"You are mistaken," said Marius. "I understand perfectly; and I'llprove it to you."The next moment, Maxence took out of the portfolio, and read aloud,the following bill, dated two days before.

"Sold to - - two leather trunks with safety locks at 220 francs each;say, francs 440."M.de Tregars started.

"At last," he said, "here is doubtless one end of the thread whichwill guide us to the truth through this labyrinth of iniquities."And, tapping gently on Maxence's shoulders,"We must talk," he said, "and at length. To-morrow, before you goto M. de Thaller's with his fifteen thousand francs, call and seeme: I shall expect you. We are now engaged upon a common work; andsomething tells me, that, before long, we shall know what has becomeof the Mutual Credit's millions."

The End