e questioned him regarding the past; she wished to know how he had
lived, what he had been doing.

He replied that he had nothing to conceal; his existence had been that
of every poor boy, who had nothing to look forward to but a life of
labor and privation.

The farmer's wife who had brought him up was a kind-hearted woman,
and had always treated him with affection. She had even given him an
education superior to his condition in life, because, as she always
said, he would make himself a great name, and attain to wealth, if he
were taught.

When about sixteen years of age, she procured him a situation in a
banking-house; and he was getting a salary, which, though small, was
enough to support him and supply a few luxuries for his adopted mother.

One day a stranger came to him and said:

"I am your father: come with me."

Since then nothing was wanting to his happiness, save a mother's
tenderness. He had suffered but one great sorrow, and that was the day
when Gaston de Clameran, his father, had died in his arms.

"But now," he said, "all is forgotten, that one sorrow is forgotten in
my present happiness. Now that I see you and possess your love, I forget
the past, and ask for nothing more."

Mme. Fauvel was oblivious of the lapse of time, and was startled when
Raoul exclaimed:

"Why, it is seven o'clock!"

Seven o'clock! What would her family think of this long absence? Her
husband must be even now awaiting dinner.

"Shall I see you again, mother?" asked Raoul in a beseeching tone, as
they were about to separate.

"Oh, yes!" she replied, fondly, "yes, often; every day, to-morrow."

But now, for the first time since her marriage, Mme. Fauvel perceived
that she was not mistress of her actions. Never before had she had
occasion to wish for uncontrolled liberty.

She left her heart and soul behind her in the Hotel du Louvre, where she
had just found her son. She was compelled to leave him, to undergo the
intolerable agony of composing her face to conceal this great happiness,
which had changed her whole life and being. She was angry with fate
because she could not remain with her first-born son.

Having some difficulty in procuring a carriage, it was half-past seven
before she reached the Rue de Provence, when she found the family
waiting for her.

She thought her husband silly, and even vulgar, when he joked her upon
letting her poor children starve to death, while she was promenading the
boulevards.