Raoul was persuaded that, by openly siding with Madeleine and her aims, he could save them from Clameran’s clutches. Having fully resolved upon this course, he wrote a note to Mme. Fauvel asking for an interview.
The poor woman hastened to Vesinet convinced that some new misfortune was in store for her.
Her alarm was groundless. She found Raoul more tender and affectionate than he had ever been. He saw the necessity of reassuring her, and winning his old place in her forgiving heart, before making his disclosures.
He succeeded. The poor lady had a smiling and happy air as she sat in an arm-chair, with Raoul kneeling beside her.
“I have distressed you too long, my dear mother,” he said in his softest tones, “but I repent sincerely: now listen to my—”
He had not time to say more; the door was violently thrown open, and Raoul, springing to his feet, was confronted by M. Fauvel.
The banker had a revolver in his hand, and was deadly pale.
It was evident that he was making superhuman efforts to remain calm, like a judge whose duty it is to justly punish crime.
“Ah,” he said with a horrible laugh, “you look surprised. You did not expect me? You thought that my imbecile credulity insured your safety.”
Raoul had the courage to place himself before Mme. Fauvel, and to stand prepared to receive the expected bullet.