what
then?"

"Pardieu! I should accept them," cried the notary as if he had not the
least suspicion whom she could mean. "Do you happen to know anyone, my
dear Madame Rapally?"

The widow nodded affirmatively, at the same time giving him a passionate
glance.

"Tell me quick the name of this delightful person, and I shall go to him
to-morrow morning. You don't know what a service you are rendering me.
And I was so near not telling you of the fix I was in, lest you should
torment yourself uselessly. Tell me his name."

"Can you not guess it?"

"How should I guess it?"

"Think well. Does no one occur to you?"

"No, no one," said Quennebert, with the utmost innocence.

"Have you no friends?"

"One or two."

"Would they not be glad to help you?"

"They might. But I have mentioned the matter to no one."

"To no one?"

"Except you."

"Well?"

"Well, Madame Rapally--I hope I don't understand you; it's not possible;
you would not humiliate me. Come, come, it's a riddle, and I am too
stupid to solve it. I give it up. Don't tantalise me any longer; tell
me the name."

The widow, somewhat abashed by this exhibition of delicacy on the part of
Maitre Quennebert, blushed, cast down her eyes, and did not venture to
speak.

As the silence lasted some time, it occurred to the notary that he had
been perhaps too hasty in his supposition, and he began to cast round for
the best means of retrieving his blunder.

"You do not speak," he said; "I see it was all a joke."

"No," said the widow at last in a timid voice, "it was no joke; I was
quite in earnest. But the way you take things is not very encouraging."

"What do you mean?"

"Pray, do you imagine that I can go on while you glare at me with that
angry frown puckering your forehead, as if you had someone before you who
had tried to insult you?"

A sweet smile chased the frown from the notary's brow. Encouraged by the
suspension of hostilities, Madame Rapally with sudden boldness approached
him, and, pressing one of his hands in both her own, whispered--

"It is I who am going to lend you the money."

He repulsed her gently, but with an air of great dignity, and said--

"Madame, I thank you, but I cannot accept."

"Why can't you?"

At this he began to walk round and round the room, while the widow, who
stood in the middle, turned as upon a pivot, keeping him always in view.
This circus-ring performance lasted some minutes before Quennebert s