er like, may have found other difficulties which I do not now
expect."

This threat, adroitly thrown out as an afterthought, was intended to
immediately clinch the matter.

"I have reflected carefully," said the pious woman, "and I feel sure
that in the hands of so religious a man as monsieur I run no risks."

Taking from her bosom a little pocket-book, she pulled out twenty-five
bank notes. The rapid manner in which she counted them was a revelation
to la Peyrade. The woman was evidently accustomed to handle money, and a
singular idea darted through his mind.

"Can it be that she is making me a receiver of stolen property? No," he
said aloud, "in order to draw up the memorial for the Academy, I must,
as I told you, make a few inquiries; and that will give me occasion to
call upon you. At what hour can I see you alone?"

"At four o'clock, when monsieur goes to take his walk in the
Luxembourg."

"And where do you live?"

"Rue du Val-de-Grace, No. 9."

"Very good; at four o'clock; and if, as I doubt not, the result of my
inquiry is favorable, I will take your money then. Otherwise, if there
are not good grounds for your application for the prize of virtue there
will be no reason why you should make a mystery of your legacy. You
could then invest it in some more normal manner than that I have
suggested to you."

"Oh! how cautious monsieur is!" she said, with evident disappointment,
having thought the affair settled. "This money, God be thanked! I have
not stolen, and monsieur can make what inquiries he likes about me in
the quarter."

"It is quite indispensable that I should do so," said la Peyrade, dryly,
for he did not at all like, under this mask of simplicity, the quick
intelligence that penetrated his thoughts. "Without being a thief, a
woman may very well not be a Sister of Charity; there's a wide margin
between the two extremes."

"As monsieur chooses," she replied; "he is doing me so great a service
that I ought to let him take all precautions."

Then, with a piously humble bow, she went away, taking her money with
her.

"The devil!" thought la Peyrade; "that woman is stronger than I; she
swallows insults with gratitude and without the sign of a grimace! I
have never yet been able to master myself like that."

He began now to fear that he had been too timid, and to think that his
would-be creditor might change her mind before he could pay her the
visit he had promised. But the harm was done, and,