The memory of his lost happiness was too much for the stricken man. He forgot the present in the past, and was almost melted to forgiveness.
“Unhappy woman,” he murmured, “unhappy woman! What have I done that you should thus betray me? Ah, my only fault was loving you too deeply, and letting you see it. One wearies of everything in this world, even happiness. Did pure domestic joys pall upon you, and weary you, driving you to seek the excitement of a sinful passion? Were you so tired of the atmosphere of respect and affection which surrounded you, that you must needs risk your honor and mine by braving public opinion? Oh, into what an abyss you have fallen, Valentine! and, oh, my God! if you were wearied by my constant devotion, had the thought of your children no power to restrain your evil passions; could you not remain untarnished for their sake?”
M. Fauvel spoke slowly, with painful effort, as if each word choked him.
Raoul, who listened with attention, saw that if the banker knew some things, he certainly did not know all.
He saw that erroneous information had misled the unhappy man, and that he was still a victim of false appearances.
He determined to convince him of the mistake under which he was laboring, and said:
“Monsieur, I hope you will listen.”
But the sound of Raoul’s voice was sufficient to break the charm.
“Silence!” cried the banker with an angry oath, “silence!”
For some moments nothing was heard but the sobs of Mme. Fauvel.