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Updated: June 22, 2025
Then our family will have to repair the injury you have done M. Fauvel." "What do you mean?" "The day he heard of your crime, your brother-in-law brought me your sister's dowry, seventy thousand francs. I succeeded in collecting a hundred and forty thousand francs more. This makes two hundred and ten thousand francs which I have brought with me to give to M. Fauvel."
Gypsy, immediately upon her return from the Archangel, stationed herself at the key-hole of the study-door, and saw all that occurred. M. Fauvel laid the pistol on the mantel-piece, and nervously resealed the letter, which he then took to the box where the letters were usually left, not wishing anyone to know that Raoul's letter had passed through his hands.
You felt no scruples about marrying M. Fauvel. Did you tell your confiding husband of the lines of shame concealed beneath that orange wreath? Did you hesitate to confirm and strengthen his happy delusion, that his lips had pressed the first kiss upon your brow? No! All these crimes you indulged in; and, when in Gaston's name I demand reparation, you indignantly refuse.
Fauvel; she refuses to answer any hints, and moves about like a ghost, never opening her lips. She seems to be afraid of her niece, and to be trying to conceal something from her." "What about M. Fauvel?" "I was just about to tell you, monsieur. Some fearful misfortune has happened to him, you may depend upon it. He wanders about as if he had lost his mind.
Unfortunately, besides his having no proofs to strengthen his assertions, these were deprived of any value by his violent professions of friendship for the accused. After Cavaillon, six or eight clerks of the Fauvel bank successively defiled in the judge's office; but their depositions were nearly all insignificant. One of them, however, stated a fact which the judge carefully noted.
This excellent bloodhound had not lost sight of the cashier. He said to himself, "Now that my young gentleman believes himself to be alone, his face will betray him. I shall detect a smile or a wink that will enlighten me." Leaving M. Fauvel and the commissary to pursue their investigations, he posted himself to watch.
Why, you might as well have remained virtuous and honest; you will never earn your salt in this sort of business." Raoul overcame his weakness, and, silencing the clamors of his conscience, rushed up the steps, and pulled the bell furiously. "Is Mme. Fauvel at home?" he inquired of the servant who opened the door. "Madame is alone in the sitting-room adjoining her chamber," was the reply.
Fauvel were engaged in earnest conversation. Their faces were composed, but the gestures of one and the trembling of the other betrayed a serious discussion. In the card-room sat the doge, M. de Clameran, so placed as to have full view of Mme. Fauvel and Madeleine, although himself concealed by an angle of the room. "It is the continuation of yesterday's scene," thought the clown.
She counted the hours until two o'clock. After that, she counted the minutes. At half-past two the servant announced: "M. the Marquis of Clameran." Mme. Fauvel had promised herself to be calm, even cold. During a long, sleepless night, she had mentally arranged beforehand every detail of this painful meeting. She had even decided upon what she should say.
"What can be done now?" "Look for the third rogue, or rather the real rogue, the one who opened the safe, and stole the notes, and who is still at large, while others are suspected." "Impossible, patron impossible! Don't you know that M. Fauvel and his cashier had keys, and they only? And they always kept these keys in their pockets."
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