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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.

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"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.

  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.

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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.

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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.