een able to
restore the thirteen hundred francs I had taken back again to
the bureau before M. Ferrand discovered anything; unfortunately,
I fell into that mistake. I left M. Ferrand's, and was no longer
under the impression of indignation and pity which had impelled
me to the step. I began to reflect upon all the dangers of my
position. A thousand fears then came to assail me. I knew the
notary's severity, and he might come after I left and search in
his bureau and discover the theft; for in his eyes--in the eyes
of the world--it is a theft. These thoughts overwhelmed me, and,
late as it was, I ran to the banker's to supplicate him to give
me my money instantly. I should have found an excuse for this
urgent request, and then I should have returned to M. Ferrand
and replaced the money I had taken. By an unlucky chance, the
banker had gone to Belleville for two days, to his
country-house, where he was engaged in some plantations.
Everything seemed to conspire against me. I waited for daybreak
with intense anxiety, and hastened to Belleville,--the banker
had just left for Paris. I returned, saw him, obtained my money,
hastened to M. Ferrand; everything was discovered. But this is
only a portion of my misfortunes. The notary at once accused me
of having robbed him of fifteen thousand francs in bank-notes,
which, he declared, were in the drawer of the bureau, with the
two thousand francs in gold. This was a base accusation,--an
infamous lie! I confess myself guilty of the first abstraction,
but, by all that is most sacred in the world, I swear to you,
mademoiselle, that I am innocent of the second. I never saw a
bank-note in the drawer. There were only two thousand francs in
gold, from which I took the thirteen hundred francs I have
mentioned. This is the truth, mademoiselle. I am under this
terrible accusation, and yet I affirm that you ought to know me
incapable of a lie. But will you,--do you believe me? Alas, as
M. Ferrand said, 'he who has taken a small sum may equally have
taken a large amount, and his word does not deserve belief.' I
have always seen you so good and devoted to the unhappy,
mademoiselle, and I know you are so frank and liberal-minded,
that your heart will guide you in the just appreciation of the
truth, I hope. I do not ask any more. Give credit to my word