ror the idea that the cashier was the instigator of the crime;
but, in spite of herself, it constantly recurred. And finally she felt
convinced that what Raoul said must be true; for who but Prosper could
have betrayed the word? And who but Prosper could have left so large an
amount of money in the safe, which, by order of the banker, was to be
always left empty at night?

Knowing that Prosper was leading a life of extravagance and dissipation,
she thought it very likely that he had, from sheer desperation, resorted
to this bold step to pay his debts; her blind affection, moreover, made
her anxious to attribute the crime to anyone, rather than to her darling
son.

She had heard that Prosper was supporting one of those worthless
creatures whose extravagance impoverishes men, and whose evil influence
perverts their natures. When a young man is thus degraded, will he
stop at any sin or crime? Alas! Mme. Fauvel knew, from her own sad
experience, to what depths even one fault can lead. Although she
believed Prosper guilty, she did not blame him, but considered herself
responsible for his sins.

Had she not herself banished the poor young man from the fireside which
he had begun to regard as his own? Had she not destroyed his hopes of
happiness, by crushing his pure love for a noble girl, whom he looked
upon as his future wife, and thus driven him into a life of dissipation
and sin?

She was undecided whether to confide in Madeleine, or bury the secret in
her own breast.

Fatally inspired, she decided to keep silent.

When Madeleine returned home at eleven o'clock, Mme. Fauvel not only was
silent as to what had occurred, but even succeeded in so concealing all
traces of her agitation, that she escaped any questions from her niece.

Her calmness never left her when M. Fauvel and Lucien returned, although
she was in terror lest her husband should go down to the cash-room to
see that everything was safely locked up. It was not his habit to open
the money-safe at night, but he sometimes did.

As fate would have it, the banker, as soon as he entered the room, began
to speak of Prosper, saying how distressing it was that so interesting a
young man should be thus throwing himself away, and wondering what could
have happened to make him suddenly cease his visits at the house, and
resort to bad company.

If M. Fauvel had looked at the faces of his wife and niece while he
harshly blamed the cashier, he would have been puzzle