iless, and banish me from his roof.
So be it; it will only be what I deserve. There is no torture that I
cannot bear, after what I have suffered through you."

This inconceivable resistance so upset all the marquis's plans that he
lost all constraint, and, dropping the mask of politeness, appeared in
his true character.

"Indeed!" he said in a fierce, brutal tone, "so you have decided to
confess to your loving, magnanimous husband! A famous idea! What a
pity you did not think of it before; it is rather late to try it now.
Confessing everything the first day I called on you, you might have been
forgiven. Your husband might have pardoned a youthful fault atoned for
by twenty years of irreproachable conduct; for none can deny that you
have been a faithful wife and a good mother. But picture the indignation
of your trusting husband when you tell him that this pretended nephew,
whom you imposed upon his family circle, who sat at his table, who
borrowed his money, is your illegitimate son! M. Fauvel is, no doubt,
an excellent, kind-hearted man; but I scarcely think he will pardon a
deception of this nature, which betrays such depravity, duplicity, and
audacity."

All that the angry marquis said was horribly true; yet Mme. Fauvel
listened unflinchingly, as if the coarse cruelty of his words
strengthened her resolution to have nothing more to do with him, but to
throw herself on her husband's mercy.

"Upon my soul," he went on, "you must be very much infatuated with this
M. Bertomy! Between the honor of your husband's name, and pleasing
this love-sick cashier, you refuse to hesitate. Well, I suppose he will
console you. When M. Fauvel divorces you, and Abel and Lucien avert
their faces at your approach, and blush at being your sons, you will be
able to say, 'I have made Prosper happy!'"

"Happen what may, I shall do what is right," said Mme. Fauvel.

"You shall do what I say!" cried Clameran, threateningly. "Do you
suppose that I will allow your sentimentality to blast all my hopes?
I shall tolerate no such folly, madame, I can assure you. Your niece's
fortune is indispensable to us, and, more than that--I love the fair
Madeleine, and am determined to marry her."

The blow once struck, the marquis judged it prudent to await the result.
With cool politeness, he continued:

"I will leave you now, madame, to think the matter over, and you cannot
fail to view it in the same light as I do. You had better take my
advice, an