unhappy in this world.

"How," she asked Abbe Lapetite, "do you explain the scourges that
afflict mankind? Why are there plagues, famines, floods, and
earthquakes?"

"It is surely necessary that God should sometimes remind us of his
existence," replied Abbe Lapetite, with a heavenly smile.

Maurice appeared keenly interested in this conversation. Then he seemed
fascinated by Madame Fillot-Grandin, quite a personable young woman,
whose simple innocence, however, detracted all piquancy from her beauty,
all savour from her bodily charms. A very sour, shrill-voiced old lady,
who, affecting the dowdy, woollen weeds of poverty, displayed the pride
of a great lady in the world of Christian finance, exclaimed in a
squeaky voice:

"Well, my dear Madame d'Esparvieu, so you have had trouble here. The
papers speak darkly of robbery, of thefts committed in Monsieur
d'Esparvieu's valuable library, of stolen letters...."

"Oh," said Madame d'Esparvieu, "if we are to believe all the newspapers
say...."

"Oh, so, dear Madame, you have got your treasures back. All's well that
ends well."

"The library is in perfect order," asserted Madame d'Esparvieu. "There
is nothing missing."

"The library is on the floor above this, is it not?" asked young Madame
des Aubels, showing an unexpected interest in the books.

Madame d'Esparvieu replied that the library occupied the whole of the
second floor, and that they had put the least valuable books in the
attics.

"Could I not go and look at it?"

The mistress of the house declared that nothing could be easier. She
called to her son:

"Maurice, go and do the honours of the library to Madame des Aubels."

Maurice rose, and without uttering a word, mounted to the second floor
in the wake of Madame des Aubels.

He appeared indifferent, but inwardly he rejoiced, for he had no doubt
that Gilberte had feigned her ardent desire to inspect the library
simply to see him in secret. And, while affecting indifference, he
promised himself to renew those offers which, this time, would not be
refused.

Under the romantic bust of Alexandre d'Esparvieu, they were met by the
silent shadow of a little wan, hollow-eyed old man, who wore a settled
expression of mute terror.

"Do not let us disturb you, Monsieur Sariette," said Maurice. "I am
showing Madame des Aubels round the library."

Maurice and Madame des Aubels passed on into the great room where
against the four walls rose presses filled wi