day which she with difficulty
extracted from him to defray the cost of food and housekeeping. His
salary had now risen to eight thousand francs a year, and he certainly
did not spend half of it. What became, then, of his big savings, the
money which he refused to devote to enjoyment? In what secret hole, and
for what purpose, what secret passion, did he conceal it? Nobody could
tell. But amid it all he remained very gentle, and, unlike most misers,
continued very cleanly in his habits, keeping his beard, which was now
white as snow, very carefully tended. And he came to his office every
morning with a little smile on his face, in such wise that nothing in
this man of regular methodical life revealed the collapse within him,
all the ashes and smoldering fire which disaster had left in his heart.

By degrees a link of some intimacy had been formed between Constance and
Morange. When, after his daughter's death, she had seen him return to
the works quite a wreck, she had been stirred by deep pity, with which
some covert personal anxiety confusedly mingled. Maurice was destined
to live five years longer, but she was already haunted by apprehensions,
and could never meet Morange without experiencing a chilling shudder,
for he, as she repeated to herself, had lost his only child. "Ah, God!
so such a catastrophe was possible." Then, on being stricken herself, on
experiencing the horrible distress, on smarting from the sudden, gaping,
incurable wound of her bereavement, she had drawn nearer to that brother
in misfortune, treating him with a kindness which she showed to none
other. At times she would invite him to spend an evening with her, and
the pair of them would chat together, or more often remain silent, face
to face, sharing each other's woe. Later on she had profited by this
intimacy to obtain information from Morange respecting affairs at the
factory, of which her husband avoided speaking. It was more particularly
since she had suspected the latter of bad management, blunders and
debts, that she endeavored to turn the accountant into a confidant, even
a spy, who might aid her to secure as much control of the business as
possible. And this was why she was so anxious to return to the factory
that day, and profit by the opportunity to see Morange privately,
persuaded as she was that she would induce him to speak out in the
absence of his superiors.

She scarcely tarried to take off her gloves and her bonnet. She found
th