Other People's Money

  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 had 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 inspiratio
ns 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. Desclavettes, 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 had 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 daughter's 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 be 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, "O 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."