one might have thought that she had a share in her nephew's
guilt. They stepped into the carriage. A few minutes later they were on
the road to Brest, and Paris lay behind them. Victurnien uttered not a
sound; he was paralyzed. And when aunt and nephew began to speak, they
talked at cross purposes; Victurnien, still laboring under the unlucky
misapprehension which flung him into Mlle. Armande's arms, was thinking
of his forgery; his aunt had the debts and the bills on her mind.

"You know all, aunt," he had said.

"Poor boy, yes, but we are here. I am not going to scold you just yet.
Take heart."

"I must hide somewhere."

"Perhaps.... Yes, it is a very good idea."

"Perhaps I might get into Chesnel's house without being seen if we timed
ourselves to arrive in the middle of the night?"

"That will be best. We shall be better able to hide this from my
brother.--Poor angel! how unhappy he is!" said she, petting the unworthy
child.

"Ah! now I begin to know what dishonor means; it has chilled my love."

"Unhappy boy; what bliss and what misery!" And Mlle. Armande drew his
fevered face to her breast and kissed his forehead, cold and damp though
it was, as the holy women might have kissed the brow of the dead Christ
when they laid Him in His grave clothes. Following out the excellent
scheme suggested by the prodigal son, he was brought by night to the
quiet house in the Rue du Bercail; but chance ordered it that by so
doing he ran straight into the wolf's jaws, as the saying goes. That
evening Chesnel had been making arrangements to sell his connection to
M. Lepressoir's head-clerk. M. Lepressoir was the notary employed by
the Liberals, just as Chesnel's practice lay among the aristocratic
families. The young fellow's relatives were rich enough to pay Chesnel
the considerable sum of a hundred thousand francs in cash.

Chesnel was rubbing his hands. "A hundred thousand francs will go a long
way in buying up debts," he thought. "The young man is paying a high
rate of interest on his loans. We will lock him up down here. I will go
yonder myself and bring those curs to terms."

Chesnel, honest Chesnel, upright, worthy Chesnel, called his darling
Comte Victurnien's creditors "curs."

Meanwhile his successor was making his way along the Rue du Bercail
just as Mlle. Armande's traveling carriage turned into it. Any young man
might be expected to feel some curiosity if he saw a traveling carriage
stop at a notary's door