lucination is this, that he felt neither remorse nor fear. As he
was resolved not to return to his house, nor to encumber himself with
luggage, he dined at a restaurant, spent a few minutes at a theatre, and
then posted his letter to the board of directors, so that it might reach
them early in the morning.

"At ten o'clock he knocked at the gate of the house in Circus Street. A
servant came and opened, saying in a mysterious manner,--

"'Please go up. The young lady is waiting.'

"A terrible presentiment seized him at that moment, and chilled him to
the marrow in his bones. In the parlor Sarah was sitting on a sofa, and
Maxime de Brevan by her side. They were laughing so loud, that he heard
them in the anteroom. When Malgat entered, she raised her head with a
dissatisfied air, and said rudely,--

"'Ah! It is you. What do you want now?'

"Surely, such a reception ought to have disabused the unfortunate man.
But no! When he began to stammer some explanations, she interrupted him,
saying,--

"'Let us speak frankly. You come to run away with me, don't you? Well,
that is simply nonsense. Look at yourself, my good friend, and tell me
if a girl such as I am can be in love with a man like you. As to that
small loan, it does not pay me, I assure you, by half, for the sublime
little comedy which I have had to play. Believe me, at all events, when
I tell you that I have taken all my precautions so as not to be troubled
by anything you may say or do. And now, sir, I wish you good-evening;
or must I go?'

"Ah! she might have spoken a long time yet, and Malgat would not have
thought of interrupting her. The fearful truth broke all of a sudden
upon him; and he felt as if the whole world were going to pieces.
He understood the enormity of the crime; he discerned the fatal
consequences, and knew he was ruined. A thousand voices arose from his
conscience, telling him, 'You are a thief! You are a forger! You are
dishonored!'

"But, when he saw Sarah Brandon get up to leave the room, he was seized
with an attack of furious rage, and threw himself upon her, crying,--

"'Yes, I am lost; but you shall die, Sarah Brandon!'

"Poor fool! who did not know that these wretches had, of course,
foreseen his wrath, and prepared for the emergency. Supple, like one of
those lost children of the gutter among whom she had lived once upon a
time, Sarah Brandon escaped from Malgat's grasp, and by a clever trick
threw him upon an arm-chair. Befor