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Updated: June 22, 2025
Fauvel was about to immolate her husband and children for Raoul. As a general thing, a first fault draws many others in its train. As an impalpable flake is the beginning of an avalanche, so an imprudence is often the prelude to a great crime. To false situations there is but one safe issue: truth. Mme.
We have the word; you know where the key is kept." "Yes; when M. Fauvel goes out he always leaves the key in the drawer of his secretary, in his chamber." "Very good. Go and get this key from Mme. Fauvel. If she does not give it up willingly, use force: so that you get it, that is the point; then open the safe, and take out every franc it contains.
Then she told of Valentine's wretched suffering, of the impending ruin of the countess, and finally how everything was happily settled by the poor girl's marriage with an immensely rich man, who was now one of the richest bankers in Paris, and was named Fauvel. A harsh voice calling, "Mihonne! Mihonne!" here interrupted the old woman.
Shall I hasten matters, or keep quiet and wait for the next move? And I am bound by a sacred promise. Come, we had better go and advise with the judge of instruction. He can assist me. Come with me; let us hurry." As M. Verduret had anticipated, Prosper's letter had a terrible effect upon M. Fauvel.
In the struggle that scratch was made on the door which formed the basis of Lecoq's inquiries and enabled the great detective to unravel the mystery. Madeline, who all the while half guessed at the truth, and perceived without being told that Madame Fauvel was at the mercy of the count, had been prepared to sacrifice her future happiness in order to prevent the scandal being made public.
Having the aunt and niece on his side, or rather in his power, he was certain of success. He said to himself that the moment would come when a deficit impossible to be paid would force them to hasten the wedding. Raoul did all he could to bring matters to a crisis. Mme. Fauvel went sooner than usual to her country seat, and Raoul at once moved into his house at Vesinet.
Unable to struggle any longer against these conflicting doubts, M. Fauvel determined to resolve them by showing the letter to his wife; but a torturing thought, more terrible than any he had yet suffered, made him sink back in his chair in despair. "Suppose it be true!" he muttered to himself; "suppose I have been miserably duped!
Among his large circle of rascally acquaintances, he selected a young fellow to impersonate Raoul-Valentin Wilson; and the chosen one stands before you." Mme. Fauvel was in a pitiable state. And yet she began to feel a ray of hope; her acute anxiety had so long tortured her, that the truth was a relief; she would thank Heaven if this wicked man was proved to be no son of hers.
He had to fear the wrath of M. Fauvel, his wife and niece. Gaston would have speedy vengeance the moment he discovered the truth; and Raoul, his accomplice, would certainly turn against him, and become his most implacable enemy. Was there no possible way of preventing a meeting between Valentine and Gaston? None that he could think of. Their meeting would be his destruction.
The blow came from the house of Fauvel, and I will live to prove it." "Take care: your anger makes you say things that you will repent hereafter." "Yes, I see, you are going to descant upon the probity of M. Andre Fauvel. You will tell me that all the virtues have taken refuge in the bosom of this patriarchal family. What do you know about it?
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