near at hand, and said:

"'Let us see! This which I am going to give thee is for her----A will,
yes, I could make a will----but it would create talk----it would be
asked what I had done----it would be searched out, dug out of the past,
it would open a tomb----I cannot!----What I have shall be hers, thou
wilt give it to her--thou'----

"And his large, haggard eyes searched through the papers.

"'Ah! here!' he said; 'here are some bonds! Egyptian--of a certain value
to the holder, at 3 per cent. I hid that--where did I put it?'

"He picked up the papers, turned them over and over, became alarmed,
turned pale.

"'But,' I said to him, 'is it not among those papers?'

"He shrugged his shoulders, displayed with an ironical smile the
engraved papers.

"'Some certificates of decorations! The bric-a-brac of a Consular life.'

"Then with renewed energy he again went to the safe, opened the till,
pulled it out, and searched again and again.

"Overcome with fright, he exclaimed: 'It is not there!'

"'Why is it not there?'

"And he gave me another look--haggard! terrible! His face was fearfully
contracted. He clasped his head with both hands, and stammered, as if
coming out of a dream.

"'It is true, I remember--I have hidden it! Yes, I hid it! I do not know
where--in some book! In which one?'

"He looked around him with wild eyes. The cerebral anaemia which had made
him fear robbery again seized him, and poor Rovere, my old friend,
plainly showed that he was enduring the agony of a man who is drowning,
and who does not know where to cling in order to save himself.

"He was still standing, but as he turned around, he staggered.

"He repeated in a hoarse, frightened voice: 'Where, where have I hidden
that? Fool! The safe did not seem to me secure enough! Where, where
have I put it?'

"It was then, Monsieur, yes, at that moment, that the concierge entered
and saw us standing face to face before those papers of which she had
spoken. I must have looked greatly embarrassed, very pale, showing the
violent emotion which seized me by the throat. Rovere said to her rather
roughly: 'What are you here for?' and sent her away with a gesture. Mme.
Moniche had had time to see the open safe and the papers spread out,
which she supposed were valuable. I understand how she deceived herself,
and when I think of it, I accuse myself. There was something tragic
taking place between Rovere and me. This woman could not know what it
wa