rns out that you may not print a newspaper in Angouleme,"
said Petit-Claud, "those who are finding the capital for Cerizet will
bring out the paper in L'Houmeau."

The prospect of twenty-two thousand francs, of want now at end, dazzled
Eve. The partnership and its hopes took a second place. And, therefore,
M. and Mme. Sechard gave way on a final point of dispute. The tall
Cointet insisted that the patent should be taken out in the name of any
one of the partners. What difference could it make? The stout Cointet
said the last word.

"He is finding the money for the patent; he is bearing the expenses of
the journey--another two thousand francs over and above the rest of the
expenses. He must take it out in his own name, or we will not stir in
the matter."

The lynx gained a victory at all points. The deed of partnership was
signed that afternoon at half-past four.

The tall Cointet politely gave Mme. Sechard a dozen thread-pattern forks
and spoons and a beautiful Ternaux shawl, by way of pin-money, said he,
and to efface any unpleasant impression made in the heat of discussion.
The copies of the draft had scarcely been made out, Cachan had barely
had time to send the documents to Petit-Claud, together with the three
unlucky forged bills, when the Sechards heard a deafening rumble in the
street, a dray from the Messageries stopped before the door, and Kolb's
voice made the staircase ring again.

"Montame! montame! vifteen tausend vrancs, vrom Boidiers" (Poitiers).
"Goot money! vrom Monziere Lucien!"

"Fifteen thousand francs!" cried Eve, throwing up her arms.

"Yes, madame," said the carman in the doorway, "fifteen thousand francs,
brought by the Bordeaux coach, and they didn't want any more neither!
I have two men downstairs bringing up the bags. M. Lucien Chardon de
Rubempre is the sender. I have brought up a little leather bag for you,
containing five hundred francs in gold, and a letter it's likely."

Eve thought that she must be dreaming as she read:--

"MY DEAR SISTER,--Here are fifteen thousand francs. Instead of
taking my life, I have sold it. I am no longer my own; I am only
the secretary of a Spanish diplomatist; I am his creature. A new
and dreadful life is beginning for me. Perhaps I should have done
better to drown myself.

"Good-bye. David will be released, and with the four thousand
francs he can buy a little paper-mill, no doubt, and make his
fortune. Forget me, all of you. Thi