“You, Prosper—you!”
These words broke the spell. The cashier dropped the white hand which he held, and answered bitterly:
“Yes, this is Prosper, the companion of your childhood, suspected, accused of the most disgraceful theft; Prosper, whom your uncle has just delivered up to justice, and who, before the day is over, will be arrested, and thrown into prison.”
Madeleine, with a terrified gesture, cried in a tone of anguish:
“Good heavens! Prosper, what are you saying?”
“What, mademoiselle! do you not know what has happened? Have not your aunt and cousins told you?”
“They have told me nothing. I have scarcely seen my cousins this morning; and my aunt is so ill that I felt uneasy, and came to tell uncle. But for Heaven’s sake speak: tell me the cause of your distress.”
Prosper hesitated. Perhaps it occurred to him to open his heart to Madeleine, of revealing to her his most secret thoughts. A remembrance of the past chilled his confidence. He sadly shook his head, and replied:
“Thanks, mademoiselle, for this proof of interest, the last, doubtless, that I shall ever receive from you; but allow me, by being silent, to spare you distress, and myself the mortification of blushing before you.”
Madeleine interrupted him imperiously: