ot last.

Under a futile pretext, the little servant was dismissed. He
tightened the strings of his purse. The Sunday excursions were
suppressed.

To mere economy succeeded the niggardly parsimony which counts the
grains of salt in the _pot-au-feu_, which weighs the soap for the
washing, and measures the evening's allowance of candle.

Gradually the accountant took the habit of treating his young wife
like a servant, whose honesty is suspected; or like a child, whose
thoughtlessness is to be feared. Every morning he handed her the
money for the expenses of the day; and every evening he expressed
his surprise that she had not made better use of it. He accused her
of allowing herself to be grossly cheated, or even to be in collusion
with the dealers. He charged her with being foolishly extravagant;
which fact, however, he added, did not surprise him much on the part
of the daughter of a man who had dissipated a large fortune.

To cap the climax, Vincent Favoral was on the worst possible terms
with his father-in-law. Of the twenty thousand francs of his wife's
dowry, twelve thousand only had been paid, and it was in vain that he
clamored for the balance. The silk-merchant's business had become
unprofitable; he was on the verge of bankruptcy. The eight thousand
francs seemed in imminent danger.

His wife alone he held responsible for this deception. He repeated
to her constantly that she had connived with her father to "take
him in," to fleece him, to ruin him.

What an existence! Certainly, had the unhappy woman known where to
find a refuge, she would have fled from that home where each of her
days was but a protracted torture. But where could she go? Of whom
could she beg a shelter?

She had terrible temptations at this time, when she was not yet
twenty, and they called her the beautiful Mme. Favoral.

Perhaps she would have succumbed, when she discovered that she was
about to become a mother. One year, day for day, after her marriage,
she gave birth to a son, who received the name of Maxence.

The accountant was but indifferently pleased at the coming of this
son. It was, above all, a cause of expense. He had been compelled
to give some thirty francs to a nurse, and almost twice as much for
the baby's clothes. Then a child breaks up the regularity of one's
habits; and he, as he affirmed, was attached to his as much as to
life itself. And now he saw his household disturbed, the hours of
his me