The hour had now come for the denouement of that home tragedy whichwas being enacted in the Rue St. Gilles.

The reader will remember the incidents narrated at the beginning ofthis story, - M. de Thaller's visit and angry words with M. Favoral,his departure after leaving a package of bank-notes in Mlle.

Gilberte's hands, the advent of the commissary of police, M.

Favoral's escape, and finally the departure of the Saturday eveningguests.

The disaster which struck Mme. Favoral and her children had been sosudden and so crushing, that they had been, on the moment, toostupefied to realize it. What had happened went so far beyond thelimits of the probable, of the possible even, that they could notbelieve it. The too cruel scenes which had just taken place wereto them like the absurd incidents of a horrible nightmare.

But when their guests had retired after a few commonplaceprotestations, when they found themselves alone, all three, in thathouse whose master had just fled, tracked by the police, - thenonly, as the disturbed equilibrium of their minds became somewhatrestored, did they fully realize the extent of the disaster, andthe horror of the situation.

Whilst Mme. Favoral lay apparently lifeless on an arm-chair,Gilberte kneeling at her feet, Maxence was walking up and down theparlor with furious steps. He was whiter than the plaster on thehalls; and a cold perspiration glued his tangled hair to his temples.

His eyes glistening, and his fists clinched,"Our father a thief!" he kept repeating in a hoarse voice, "a forger!"And in fact never had the slightest suspicion arisen in his mind.

In these days of doubtful reputations, he had been proud indeed ofM. Favoral's reputation of austere integrity. And he had enduredmany a cruel reproach, saying to himself that his father had, by hisown spotless conduct, acquired the right to be harsh and exacting.

"And he has stolen twelve millions!" he exclaimed.

And he went on, trying to calculate all the luxury and splendorwhich such a sum represents, all the cravings gratified, all thedreams realized, all it can procure of things that may be bought.

And what things are not for sale for twelve millions!

Then he examined the gloomy home in the Rue St. Gilles, - thecontracted dwelling, the faded furniture the prodigies of aparsimonious industry, his mother's privations, his sister's penury,and his own distress. And he exclaimed again,"It is a monstrous infamy!"The words of the commissary of police had opened his eyes; and henow fancied the most wonderful things. M. Favoral, in his mind,assumed fabulous proportions. By what miracles of hypocrisy anddissimulation had he succeeded in making himself ubiquitous as itwere, and, without awaking a suspicion, living two lives so distinctand so different, - here, in the midst of his family, parsimonious,methodic, and severe; elsewhere, in some illicit household,doubtless facile, smiling, and generous, like a successful thief.

For Maxence considered the bills found in the secretary as aflagrant, irrefutable and material proof.

Upon the brink of that abyss of shame into which his father had justtumbled, he thought he could see, not the inevitable woman, thatincentive of all human actions, but the entire legion of thosebewitching courtesans who possess unknown crucibles wherein to swellfortunes, and who have secret filters to stupefy their dupes, andstrip them of their honor, after robbing them of their last cent.

"And I," said Maxence, - " I, because at twenty I was fond ofpleasure, I was called a bad son! Because I had made some threehundred francs of debts, I was deemed a swindler! Because I lovea poor girl who has for me the most disinterested affection, I amone of those rascals whom their family disown, and from whom nothingcan be expected but shame and disgrace!"He filled the parlor with the sound of his voice, which rose likehis wrath.

And at the thought of all the bitter reproaches which had beenaddressed to him by his father, and of all the humiliations thathad been heaped upon him,"Ah, the wretch!" he fairly shrieked, " - the coward!"As pale as her brother, her face bathed in tears, and her beautifulhair hanging undone, Mlle. Gilberte drew herself up.

"He is our father, Maxence," she said gently.

But he interrupted her with a wild burst of laughter. "True," heanswered; "and, by virtue of the law which is written in the code,we owe him affection and respect.""Maxence! "murmured the girl in a beseeching tone. But he went on,nevertheless,"Yes, he is our father, unfortunately. But I should like to knowhis titles to our respect and our affection. After making ourmother the most miserable of creatures, he has embittered ourexistence, withered our youth, ruined my future, and done his bestto spoil yours by compelling you to marry Costeclar. And, to crownall these deeds of kindness, he runs away now, after stealing twelvemillions, leaving us nothing but misery and a disgraced name.

"And yet," he added, "is it possible that a cashier should taketwelve millions, and his employer know nothing of it? And is ourfather really the only man who benefitted by these millions?"Then came back to the mind of Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte the lastwords of their father at the moment of his flight," I have been betrayed; and I must suffer for all!"And his sincerity could hardly be called in question; for he wasthen in one of those moments of decisive crisis in which the truthforces itself out in spite of all calculation.

"He must have accomplices then," murmured Maxence.

Although he had spoken very low, Mme. Favoral overheard him. Todefend her husband, she found a remnant of energy, and, straighteningherself on her seat,"Ah! do not doubt it," she stammered out. "Of his own inspiration,Vincent could never have committed an evil act. He has beencircumvented, led away, duped!""Very well; but by whom?""By Costeclar," affirmed Mlle. Gilberte.

"By the Messrs. Jottras, the bankers," said Mme. Favoral, "and alsoby M. Saint Pavin, the editor of 'the Financial Pilot.'""By all of them, evidently," interrupted Maxence, "even by hismanager, M. de Thaller."When a man is at the bottom of a precipice, what is the use offinding out how he has got there, - whether by stumbling over astone, or slipping on a tuft of grass! And yet it is always ourforemost thought. It was with an eager obstinacy that Mme. Favoraland her children ascended the course of their existence, seeking inthe past the incidents and the merest words which might throw somelight upon their disaster; for it was quite manifest that it wasnot in one day and at the same time that twelve millions had beensubtracted from the Mutual Credit. This enormous deficit must havebeen, as usual, made gradually, with infinite caution at first,whilst there was a desire, and some hope, to make it good again,then with mad recklessness towards the end when the catastrophe hadbecome inevitable.

"Alas!" murmured Mme. Favoral, "why did not Vincent listen to mypresentiments on that ever fatal day when he brought M. de Thaller,M. Jottras, and M. Saint Pavin to dine here? They promised him afortune."Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte were too young at the time of that dinnerto have preserved any remembrance of it; but they remembered manyother circumstances, which, at the time they had taken place, hadnot struck them. They understood now the temper of their father,his perpetual irritation, and the spasms of his humor. When hisfriends were heaping insults upon him, he had exclaimed,"Be it so! let them arrest me; and to-night, for the first time inmany years, I shall sleep in peace."There were years, then, that he lived, as it were upon burning coals,trembling at the fear of discovery, and wondering, as he went tosleep each night, whether he would not be awakened by the rude handof the police tapping him on the shoulder. No one better than Mme.

Favoral could affirm it.

"Your father, my children," she said, "had long since lost his sleep.

There was hardly ever a night that he did not get up and walk theroom for hours."They understood, now, his efforts to compel Mlle. Gilberte to marryM. Costeclar.

"He thought that Costeclar would help him out of the scrape,"suggested Maxence to his sister.

The poor girl shuddered at the thought, and she could not helpfeeling thankful to her father for not having told her his situation;for would she have had the sublime courage to refuse the sacrifice,if her father had told her?.

"I have stolen! I am lost! Costeclar alone can save me; and hewill save me if you become his wife."M. Favoral's pleasant behavior during the siege was quite natural.

Then he had no fears; and one could understand how in the mostcritical hours of the Commune, when Paris was in flames, he couldhave exclaimed almost cheerfully,"Ah! this time it is indeed the final liquidation."Doubtless, in the bottom of his heart, he wished that Paris mightbe destroyed, and, with it, the evidences of his crime. Andperhaps he was not the only one to form that impious wish.

"That's why, then," exclaimed Maxence, - "that's why my fathertreated me so rudely: that's why he so obstinately persisted inclosing the offices of the Mutual Credit against me."He was interrupted by a violent ringing of the door-bell. He lookedat the clock: ten o'clock was about to strike.

"Who can call so late?" said Mme. Favoral.

Something like a discussion was heard in the hall, - a voice hoarsewith anger, and the servant's voice.

"Go and see who's there," said Gilberte to her brother.

It was useless; the servant appeared.

"It's M. Bertan," she commenced, "the baker - He had followed her,and, pushing her aside with his robust arm, he appeared himself.

He was a man about forty years of age, tall, thin, already bald,and wearing his beard trimmed close.

"M. Favoral?" he inquired.

"My father is not at home," replied Maxence.

"It's true, then, what I have just been told?""What?""That the police came to arrest him, and he escaped through awindow.""It's true," replied Maxence gently.

The baker seemed prostrated.

"And my money?" he asked.

"What money?""Why, my ten thousand francs! Ten thousand francs which I broughtto M. Favoral, in gold, you hear? in ten rolls, which I placedthere, on that very table, and for which he gave me a receipt. Hereit is, - his receipt."He held out a paper; but Maxence did not take it.

"I do not doubt your word, sir," he replied; "but my father'sbusiness is not ours.""You refuse to give ............