Mme. Fauvel opened her lips to confess all: fear kept her silent.
“What can these wretches want?” said Madeleine: “what new sacrifice do they demand? Dishonor Prosper! Good heavens! Why did they not kill him at once? He would rather be dead than disgraced!”
Here the entrance of M. Fauvel interrupted Madeleine. The banker was so angry that he could scarcely speak.
“The worthless scoundrel!” he cried; “to think of his daring to accuse me! To insinuate that I robbed my own safe! And that Marquis de Clameran must needs doubt my good faith in keeping my engagement to pay his money!”
Then, without noticing the effect of his story upon the two women, he proceeded to relate all that had occurred downstairs.
“I was afraid this extravagance would lead to something terrible,” he said in conclusion; “you know I told you last night that Prosper was growing worse in his conduct, and that he would get into trouble.”
Throughout the day Madeleine’s devotion to her aunt was severely tried.
The generous girl saw disgrace heaped upon the man she loved. She had perfect faith in his innocence; she felt sure she knew who had laid the trap to ruin him; and yet she could not say a word in his defence.
Fearing that Madeleine would suspect her of complicity in the theft, if she remained in bed and betrayed so much agitation, Mme. Fauvel arose and dressed for breakfast.
It was a dreary meal. No one tasted a morsel. The servants moved about on their tiptoes, as silently as if a death had occurred in the family.