rming the name g,y,p,s,y. His expression during this short
performance was one of intense anxiety. He began to fear that the
excited energy which he had summoned might fail him, and also that if
he did open the box he might not find the hoped-for sum. Prosper might
have changed the letters, and he might have been sent to the bank that
day.

Madame Fauvel watched Raoul with pathetic distress. She read in his
wild eyes that despair of the unfortunate, who so passionately desire
a result that they fancy their unassisted will can overcome all
obstacles.

Being intimate with Prosper, and having frequently watched him close
the office, Raoul knew perfectly well--indeed, he had made it a study
and attempted it himself, for he was a far-seeing youth--how to
manipulate the key in the lock.

He inserted it gently, turned it, pushed it in deeper, and turned it
again, then he pushed it in with a violent shock and turned it once
more. His heart beat so loudly that Madame Fauvel could hear it.

The word had not been changed: the box opened.

Raoul and his mother uttered cries--hers of terror, his of triumph.

"Shut it!" screamed Madame Fauvel, frightened at this inexplicable and
incomprehensible result; "leave it--come!"

And half mad, she threw herself upon Raoul, clinging to his arm in
desperation and drawing him to her with such violence that the key was
dragged from the lock and along the door of the coffer, leaving a long
and deep mark.

But Raoul had had time to notice upon the upper shelf of the box three
bundles of bank-notes. These he quickly snatched with his left hand,
slipped them under his coat and placed them between his waistcoat and
shirt.

Exhausted by her efforts, and yielding to the violence of her
emotions, Madame Fauvel dropped Raoul's arm, and to avoid falling,
supported herself on the back of Prosper's arm-chair.

"I implore you, Raoul," she said, "I beseech you to put those
bank-notes back in the box. I shall have money to-morrow, I swear it
to you a hundred times over, and I will give it to you, my son. I beg
you to take pity on your mother!"

He paid no attention to her. He was examining the long scratch on the
door. This mark of the theft was very convincing and disturbing.

"At least," implored Madame Fauvel, "don't take all. Keep what you
need to save yourself, and leave the rest."

"What for? Would a balance make discovery less easy?"

"Yes, because I--you see I can manage it. Let me ar