ht of
which had so justly terrified the countess.

"He has but me in all the world," said Marie to her sister, "and I will
not fail him."

That speech contains the secret motive of most women; they can be heroic
when they are certain of being all in all to a grand and irreproachable
being.

CHAPTER VIII. A LOVER SAVED AND LOST

Du Tillet had heard some talk even in financial circles of the more or
less possible adoration of his sister-in-law for Nathan; but he was
one of those who denied it, thinking it incompatible with Raoul's
known relations with Florine. The actress would certainly drive off the
countess, or vice versa. But when, on coming home that evening, he found
his sister-in-law with a perturbed face, in consultation with his wife
about money, it occurred to him that Raoul had, in all probability,
confided to her his situation. The countess must therefore love him;
she had doubtless come to obtain from her sister the sum due to old
Gigonnet. Madame du Tillet, unaware, of course, of the reasons for
her husband's apparently supernatural penetration, had shown such
stupefaction when he told her the sum wanted, that du Tillet's
suspicions became certainties. He was sure now that he held the thread
of all Nathan's possible manoeuvres.

No one knew that the unhappy man himself was in bed in a small hotel in
the rue du Mail, under the name of the office watchman, to whom Marie
had promised five hundred francs if he kept silence as to the events of
the preceding night and morning. Thus bribed, the man, whose name
was Francois Quillet, went back to the office and left word with the
portress that Monsieur Nathan had been taken ill in consequence of
overwork, and was resting. Du Tillet was therefore not surprised at
Raoul's absence. It was natural for the journalist to hide under any
such pretence to avoid arrest. When the sheriff's spies made inquiries
they learned that a lady had carried him away in a public coach early
in the morning; but it took three days to ferret out the number of the
coach, question the driver, and find the hotel where the debtor was
recovering his strength. Thus Marie's prompt action had really gained
for Nathan a truce of four days.

Both sisters passed a cruel night. Such a catastrophe casts the lurid
gleams of its charcoal over the whole of life, showing reefs, pools,
depths, where the eye has hitherto seen only summits and grandeurs.
Struck by the horrible picture of a young