“You shall have them to-morrow.”
“But I must have the money to-night.”
Mme. Fauvel wrung her hands in despair.
“Oh! why did you not come to me sooner, my son? Why did you not have confidence enough in me to come at once for help? This evening! There is no one in the house to open the money-safe; if it were not for that—if you had only come before Andre went out—”
“The safe!” cried Raoul, with sudden joy, as if this magic word had thrown a ray of light upon his dark despair; “do you know where the key is kept?”
“Yes: it is in the next room.”
“Well!” he exclaimed, with a bold look that caused Mme. Fauvel to lower her eyes, and keep silent.
“Give me the key, mother,” he said in a tone of entreaty.
“Oh, Raoul, Raoul!”
“It is my life I am asking of you.”