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A frown appeared upon the girl's countenance. She evidently felt hurt 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 of having me enter the Mutual Credit?" "Yes, it was from him." "For what purpose?"
Gilberte narrated the scenes of the previous night the sudden appearance of M. de Thaller, the arrival of the commissary of police, M. Favoral's escape, thanks to Maxence's presence of mind.
She passed before him like a flash, opened the opposite door, and disappeared. But, rapid as the apparition had been, it had left in Maxence's mind one of those impressions which are never obliterated. He could not think of any thing else the whole day; and after business-hours, instead of going to dine in Rue St.
Tears of rage obscured Maxence's sight whilst reading the last few lines of this terrible article. To find himself thus held up to public curiosity, though innocent, was more than he could bear. And yet he was, perhaps, still more surprised than indignant. He had just learned in that paper more than his father's most intimate friends knew, more than he knew himself.
There is no energy but unbends at some given moment, no will but has 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 had often dreamed in the despairing hours of solitude and wretchedness?
"Can she possibly have heard any thing?" murmured M. de Tregars with a deep frown. And, after a moment of reflection, "So much the more reason to see her," he added quickly. "Let her come. Request her to do me the honor of coming up stairs." This last incident completely upset all Maxence's ideas. He no longer knew what to imagine.
It was on the opposite side of the landing that what Mme. Fortin pompously called "Maxence's apartment" was situated. Nothing could be more gloomy than this lodging, in which the ragged paper and soiled paint retained the traces of all the wanderers who had occupied it since the opening of the Hotel des Folies.
"Nothing more than you know by those two rascals' conversation." A dozen questions were pressing upon Maxence's lips; but M. de Tregars 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 to dissimulate, for years, his double existence, proves, on the contrary, a wonderful amount of duplicity.
"We are saved!" she said. "Saved!" repeated the cashier mechanically. "Yes; for I guess Maxence's idea. But we must have an understanding. Where will you take refuge?" "How can I tell?" "There is a train at five minutes past eleven," remarked M. Desormeaux. "Don't let us forget that." "But money will be required to leave by that train," interrupted the old lawyer. "Fortunately, I have some."
"I," replied Maxence, advancing towards the bed. It was only necessary to see the poor girl in order to understand Maxence's frightful anxiety. She was whiter than the sheet; and fever, that horrible fever which follows severe wounds, gave to her eyes a sinister lustre. "But you are not alone," she said again. "I am with him, my child," replied the commissary.
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