"Eh?—what?—what's that?"
She paused when she saw the effect of her words. The old actor's mobile features were suddenly contracted under the lash of violent despair; and tears, genuine tears which he did not even think of concealing behind his hand as they do on the stage, filled his eyes but did not flow, so tightly did his agony clutch him by the throat. The poor devil began to understand.
She murmured twice or thrice:
"To give up—to give up—"
Then her little head fell back upon the pillow, and she died without having dared to tell him what he would do well to give up.
CHAPTER XIX
APPROACHING CLOUDS
One night, near the end of January, old Sigismond Planus, cashier of the house of Fromont Jeune and Risler Aine, was awakened with a start in his little house at Montrouge by the same teasing voice, the same rattling of chains, followed by that fatal cry:
"The notes!"
"That is true," thought the worthy man, sitting up in bed; "day after to- morrow will be the last day of the month. And I have the courage to sleep!"