e the boat and go as far as the island of Croissy. She seemed very
cheerful; when we got back it was five o'clock.

"Mme. Duvernoy has been here," said Nanine, as she saw us enter. "She
has gone again?" asked Marguerite.

"Yes, madame, in the carriage; she said it was arranged."

"Quite right," said Marguerite sharply. "Serve the dinner."

Two days afterward there came a letter from Prudence, and for a
fortnight Marguerite seemed to have got rid of her mysterious gloom,
for which she constantly asked my forgiveness, now that it no longer
existed. Still, the carriage did not return.

"How is it that Prudence does not send you back your carriage?" I asked
one day.

"One of the horses is ill, and there are some repairs to be done. It is
better to have that done while we are here, and don't need a carriage,
than to wait till we get back to Paris."

Prudence came two days afterward, and confirmed what Marguerite had
said. The two women went for a walk in the garden, and when I joined
them they changed the conversation. That night, as she was going,
Prudence complained of the cold and asked Marguerite to lend her a
shawl.

So a month passed, and all the time Marguerite was more joyous and more
affectionate than she ever had been. Nevertheless, the carriage did not
return, the shawl had not been sent back, and I began to be anxious in
spite of myself, and as I knew in which drawer Marguerite put Prudence's
letters, I took advantage of a moment when she was at the other end of
the garden, went to the drawer, and tried to open it; in vain, for it
was locked. When I opened the drawer in which the trinkets and diamonds
were usually kept, these opened without resistance, but the jewel cases
had disappeared, along with their contents no doubt.

A sharp fear penetrated my heart. I might indeed ask Marguerite for the
truth in regard to these disappearances, but it was certain that she
would not confess it.

"My good Marguerite," I said to her, "I am going to ask your permission
to go to Paris. They do not know my address, and I expect there are
letters from my father waiting for me. I have no doubt he is concerned;
I ought to answer him."

"Go, my friend," she said; "but be back early." I went straight to
Prudence.

"Come," said I, without beating about the bush, "tell me frankly, where
are Marguerite's horses?"

"Sold."

"The shawl?"

"Sold."

"The diamonds?"

"Pawned."

"And who has sold and pawned them?"