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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!

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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.

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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!