t with the barn. The peasant of Lorraine, as often
happens, had succeeded too well. The Marshal had died of the blows dealt
to the family by herself and Madame Marneffe.

The old maid's vindictiveness, which success seemed to have somewhat
mollified, was aggravated by this disappointment of her hopes. Lisbeth
went, crying with rage, to Madame Marneffe; for she was homeless, the
Marshal having agreed that his lease was at any time to terminate
with his life. Crevel, to console Valerie's friend, took charge of her
savings, added to them considerably, and invested the capital in five
per cents, giving her the life interest, and putting the securities
into Celestine's name. Thanks to this stroke of business, Lisbeth had an
income of about two thousand francs.

When the Marshal's property was examined and valued, a note was found,
addressed to his sister-in-law, to his niece Hortense, and to his nephew
Victorin, desiring that they would pay among them an annuity of twelve
hundred francs to Mademoiselle Lisbeth Fischer, who was to have been his
wife.

Adeline, seeing her husband between life and death, succeeded for some
days in hiding from him the fact of his brother's death; but Lisbeth
came, in mourning, and the terrible truth was told him eleven days after
the funeral.

The crushing blow revived the sick man's energies. He got up, found his
family collected in the drawing-room, all in black, and suddenly silent
as he came in. In a fortnight, Hulot, as lean as a spectre, looked to
his family the mere shadow of himself.

"I must decide on something," said he in a husky voice, as he seated
himself in an easy-chair, and looked round at the party, of whom Crevel
and Steinbock were absent.

"We cannot stay here, the rent is too high," Hortense was saying just as
her father came in.

"As to a home," said Victorin, breaking the painful silence, "I can
offer my mother----"

As he heard these words, which excluded him, the Baron raised his head,
which was sunk on his breast as though he were studying the pattern of
the carpet, though he did not even see it, and he gave the young lawyer
an appealing look. The rights of a father are so indefeasibly sacred,
even when he is a villain and devoid of honor, that Victorin paused.

"To your mother," the Baron repeated. "You are right, my son."

"The rooms over ours in our wing," said Celestine, finishing her
husband's sentence.

"I am in your way, my dears?" said the Baron, wi