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.