Here he slowly drew from his pocket several bundles of bank-notes, and laid them on the mantel-piece.
“Raoul stole three hundred and fifty thousand francs,” he said: “I return the same amount. It is more than half my fortune. Willingly would I give the rest to insure this being the last crime committed by him.”
Too inexperienced to penetrate this bold, and yet simple plan of Clameran’s, Madeleine was dumb with astonishment; all her calculations were upset.
Mme. Fauvel, on the contrary, accepted this restitution as salvation sent from heaven.
“Oh, thanks, monsieur, thanks!” she cried, gratefully clasping Clameran’s hand in hers; “you are goodness itself!”
Louis’s eye lit up with pleasure. But he rejoiced too soon. A minute’s reflection brought back all of Madeleine’s distrust. She thought this magnanimity and generosity unnatural in a man whom she considered incapable of a noble sentiment, and at once concluded that it must conceal some snare beneath.
“What are we to do with the money?” she demanded.
“Restore it to M. Fauvel, mademoiselle.”
“We restore it, monsieur, and how? Restoring the money is denouncing Raoul, and ruining my aunt. Take back your money, monsieur. We will not touch it.”
Clameran was too shrewd to insist; he took up the money, and prepared to leave.