“But I have not got it, I assure you.”
“Do not say that. You are afraid of me, but I will not reproach you. If you have spent a little you are quite welcome, but tell me where the rest is!”
“Listen to me, Zénaïde: this is horrible. Why should every one think me guilty?”
She went on as if he had not spoken. “Do you understand that without this money I shall be miserable? In your mother’s name I entreat you here on my knees!”
She threw herself on the floor by the side of the bed where the boy sat, and gave way to tears and sobs. Jack, who was as unhappy as she, tried to take her hand. Suddenly she started up. “You will be punished. No one will ever love you because your heart is bad!” and she left the room. She ran hastily down the stairs to the superintendent’s room, whom she found with her father. She could not speak, for her tears choked her.
“Be comforted, my child!” said the Director. “Your father tells me that the mother of this boy is married to a very rich man. We will write to them. If they are good people, your dowry will be restored to you.”
He wrote the following letter:—
“Madame: Your son has stolen a sum of money from the honest and hard-working man with whom he lived. This sum represents the savings of years. I have not yet handed him over to the authorities, hoping that he might be induced to restore at least a portion of this money. But I am afraid that it has all been squandered among drunken companions. If that is the case, you should indemnify the Rondics for their loss. The amount is six thousand francs. I await your decision before taking any further steps.”
And he signed his name.
“Poor things—it is terrible news for them!” said Père Rondic, who amid his own sorrows could still think of those of others.