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Updated: June 29, 2025
Write to him? Nothing was easier, since she had his address, Rue Turenne. But where could she ask him to direct his answer? Rue St. Gilles? Impossible! True, she might go to him, or make an appointment in the neighborhood. But how could she escape, even for an hour, without exciting Mme. Favoral's suspicions?
The poor girl shuddered at the thought, and she could not help feeling 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 he will save me if you become his wife." M. Favoral's pleasant behavior during the siege was quite natural.
The manager of the Mutual Credit was a prudent man. Pleasantly situated in Switzerland, he was in nowise anxious to return to Paris before being quite certain that he had no risks to run. Upon receiving M. Favoral's assurances to that effect, he started; and, almost at the same time the elder Jottras and M. Costeclar made their appearance.
His house was for him but a mere hotel, where he slept, and took his evening meal. He never thought of questioning his wife as to the use of her time, and what she did in his absence. Provided she did not ask him for money, and was there when he came home, he was satisfied. Many women, at Mme. Favoral's age, might have made a strange use of that insulting indifference and of that absolute freedom.
"Why, dear mother," she said with a forced smile, "has it not happened to me twenty times to go out in the neighborhood?" But Mme. Favoral's confiding credulity existed no longer. "I have been blind, Gilberte," she interrupted; "but this time my eyes must open to evidence. There is in your life a mystery, something extraordinary, which I dare not try to guess." Mlle.
Favoral's ears. "Yes, no," she answered, hardly knowing to what she did answer. Her head heavy with a vague apprehension, it required her utmost attention to observe her husband and his guests. Standing by the mantel-piece, smoking their cigars, they conversed with considerable animation, but not loud enough to enable her to hear all they said.
He turned upon his heels, and advanced towards M. Favoral's friends with a smile so engaging as to make it evident that he was anxious to conquer their suffrages. This was at the beginning of the month of June, 1870. No one as yet could foresee the frightful disasters which were to mark the end of that fatal year.
Being given Mme. Favoral's disposition, he knew what could be expected of her; and he had his own reasons to fear nothing from Maxence. And, if he mistrusted somewhat the diplomatic talents of his ambassador, he relied absolutely upon Mlle. Gilberte's energy.
But as soon as he had narrated, with a fidelity that did honor to his memory, all that had just occurred, "Nothing is lost yet," declared M. de Tregars. And, taking from his pocket the bill for two trunks, which had been found in M. Favoral's portfolio, "There," he said, "we shall know our fate." M. de Tregars and Maxence were in luck.
"Certainly," he answered, "I was Favoral's intimate friend; and the proof of it is, that he has treated me more friendly than the rest. I am in for a hundred and sixty thousand francs." By this mere declaration he conquered the sympathies of the crowd. He was a brother in misfortune; they respected him: he was a skilful business-man; they stopped to listen to him.
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