the explanation
necessary."

I felt that my zeal was about to compromise me.

"Take care, Passajon," said the judge. "You are only here as a witness;
but if you attempt to mislead justice, you may return a prisoner"
(he, the monster, had, indeed, the manner of desiring it). "Come now,
consider; who tore out this page?"

Then I very fortunately remembered that some days before he left Paris
the governor had me made bring the books to his house, where they were
all night. The clerk took a note of my declaration, after which the
judge dismissed me with a sign, warning me to be ready when I was
wanted. Then, on the threshold, he called me back: "Stay, M. Passajon,
take this away. I don't want it any more."

He held out the papers he had been consulting while he was questioning
me; and judge of my confusion when I saw on the cover the word
"Memoirs," written in my best round-hand. I, myself, had provided
material to Justice--important details which the suddenness of our
catastrophe had prevented me from saving from the police search of our
office.

My first idea on returning home was to tear up these indiscreet papers;
but on reflection, and after having assured myself that the Memoirs
contained nothing that would compromise me, I have decided to go on with
them, with the certainty of getting some profit out of them one day or
another. There are plenty of novelists at Paris who have no imagination
and can only put true stories in their books, who would be glad to buy
a little book of incidents. That is how I shall avenge myself on this
society of well-to-do swindlers, with which I have been mixed up to my
shame and misfortune.

Besides, I must occupy my leisure time. There is nothing to do at the
bank, which is completely deserted since the judicial inquiry began,
except to arrange the bills of all colours. I have again undertaken the
writing for the cook on the second floor, Mlle. Seraphine, from whom
I accept in return some little refreshment, which I keep in the
strong-box, once more become a provision safe. The wife of the governor
is also very good to me, and stuffs my pockets each time I go to see her
in her great rooms on the Chaussee d'Antin. There nothing has changed;
the same luxury, the same comfort, also a three-months'-old baby--the
seventh--and a superb nurse, whose Norman cap is the admiration of the
Bois de Boulogne. It seems that once started on the rails of fortune,
people need a certain time to sla