Night was approaching, and the smoking-room was gradually filling with men who called for absinthe or bitters, and youths who perched themselves up on high stools, and smoked their pipes.
“It is time to go,” said M. Verduret; “your master will want you, Joseph; besides, here is someone come for me. I will see you to-morrow.”
The new-comer was no other than Cavaillon, more troubled and frightened than ever. He looked uneasily around the room, as if he expected the whole police force to appear, and carry him off to prison.
He did not sit down at M. Verduret’s table, but stealthily gave his hand to Prosper, and, after assuring himself that no one was observing them, handed M. Verduret a package, saying:
“She found this in a cupboard.”
It was a handsomely bound prayer-book. M. Verduret rapidly turned over the leaves, and soon found the pages from which the words pasted on Prosper’s letter had been cut.
“I had moral proofs,” he said, handing the book to Prosper, “but here is material proof sufficient in itself to save you.”
When Prosper looked at the book he turned pale as a ghost. He recognized this prayer-book instantly. He had given it to Madeleine in exchange for the medal.
He opened it, and on the fly-leaf Madeleine had written, “Souvenir of Notre Dame de Fourvieres, 17 January, 1866.”
“This book belongs to Madeleine,” he cried.