er's house some baccarat night;
and there would be a scene of recognition worthy of Fargueil's genius."

Any man but M. de Coralth would have had some compassion, for Madame
d'Argeles was evidently suffering agony. "It is as I feared!" she
moaned, in a scarcely audible voice.

However, he heard her. "What!" he exclaimed in a tone of intense
astonishment; "did you really doubt it? No; I can't believe it; it would
be doing injustice to your intelligence and experience. Are people like
ourselves obliged to talk in order to understand each other? Should I
ever have ventured to do what I have done, in your house, if I had not
known the secret of your maternal tenderness, delicacy of feeling, and
devotion?"

She was weeping; big tears were rolling down her face, tracing a broad
furrow through the powder on her cheeks. "He knows everything!" she
murmured; "he knows everything!"

"By the merest chance, I assure you. As I don't like folks to meddle
with my affairs, I never meddle with theirs. As I have just said, it was
entirely the work of chance. One April afternoon I came to invite you
to a drive in the Bois. I was ushered into this very room where we
are sitting now, and found you writing. I said I would wait until you
finished your letter; but some one called you, and you hastily left the
room. How it was that I happened to approach your writing-table I cannot
explain; but I did approach it, and read your unfinished letter. Upon my
word it touched me deeply. I can give no better proof of the truth of my
assertion than the fact that I can repeat it, almost word for word, even
now. 'DEAR SIR,'--you wrote to your London correspondent--'I send you
three thousand francs, in addition to the five thousand for the regular
quarterly payment. Forward the money without delay. I fear the poor boy
is greatly annoyed by his creditors. Yesterday I had the happiness
of seeing him in the Rue de Helder, and I found him looking pale and
careworn. When you send him this money, forward at the same time a
letter of fatherly advice. It is true, he ought to work and win an
honorable position for himself; but think of the dangers and temptation
that beset him, alone and friendless, in this corrupt city.' There, my
dear lady, your letter ended; but the name and address were given, and
it was easy enough to understand it. You remember, perhaps, a little
incident that occurred after your return. On perceiving that you had
forgotten your letter, yo