“In six hours,” she said to herself, “in five hours—in four hours—in three hours—in one hour—all will be discovered; and then what will happen? Heaven help me!”
At sunrise she heard the servants moving about the house. Then the office-shutters opened; then, later, she heard the clerks going into the bank.
She attempted to get up, but felt so ill and weak that she sank back on her pillow; and lying there, trembling like a leaf, bathed in cold perspiration, she awaited the discovery of the robbery.
She was leaning over the side of the bed, straining her ear to catch a sound from the cash-room, when Madeleine, who had just left her, rushed into the room.
The white face and wild eyes of the poor girl told Mme. Fauvel that the crime was discovered.
“Do you know what has happened, aunt?” cried Madeleine, in a shrill, horrified tone. “Prosper is accused of robbery, and the police have come to take him to prison!”
A groan was Mme. Fauvel’s only answer.
“Raoul or the marquis is at the bottom of this,” continued Madeleine excitedly.
“How can they be concerned in it, my child?”
“I can’t tell yet; but I only know that Prosper is innocent. I have just seen him, spoken to him. He would never have looked me in the face had he been guilty.”