s how matters stand, hear myself told
that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently
to the bottom."

"But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline.
"My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you
have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage;
there must be some way out of it."

"Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two
hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh,
Napoleon! where art thou?"

"My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in
disgrace."

"There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes,
Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money,
he alone could--"

"Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave
our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!"
cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you
all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to
me?"

She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On
rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face,
that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a
sort of idiotic melancholy.

"Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from
this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get
round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will
find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your
family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State,
your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be
lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling
before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say
farewell."

It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised
her and kissed her, saying:

"I do not understand."

"If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the
strength to carry out this last sacrifice."

"Breakfast is served," said Mariette.

Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to
breakfast and assume a false face.

"Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness.

She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows:

"MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall
expect you