parents themselves appeared uncomfortable in
her presence, as if they bore her a constant grudge for some irreparable
fault.

"An honest man would not willingly give his hand to a liberated convict,
would he, even if that convict were his own son? And Monsieur and Madame
Fontanelle looked on their daughter as they would have done on a son who
had just been released from the hulks. She was pretty and pale, tall,
slender, distinguished-looking, and she would have pleased me very much,
monsieur, but for that unfortunate affair.

"Well, when a new sub-prefect was appointed here, eighteen months
ago, he brought his private secretary with him. He was a queer sort
of fellow, who had lived in the Latin Quarter, it appears. He saw
Mademoiselle Fontanelle and fell in love with her, and when told of what
occurred, he merely said:

"'Bah! That is just a guarantee for the future, and I would rather it
should have happened before I married her than afterward. I shall live
tranquilly with that woman.'

"He paid his addresses to her, asked for her hand and married her, and
then, not being deficient in assurance, he paid wedding calls, as if
nothing had happened. Some people returned them, others did not; but, at
last, the affair began to be forgotten, and she took her proper place in
society.

"She adored her husband as if he had been a god; for, you must remember,
he had restored her to honor and to social life, had braved public
opinion, faced insults, and, in a word, performed such a courageous act
as few men would undertake, and she felt the most exalted and tender
love for him.

"When she became enceinte, and it was known, the most particular people
and the greatest sticklers opened their doors to her, as if she had been
definitely purified by maternity.

"It is strange, but so it is, and thus everything was going on as well
as possible until the other day, which was the feast of the patron saint
of our town. The prefect, surrounded by his staff and the authorities,
presided at the musical competition, and when he had finished his
speech the distribution of medals began, which Paul Hamot, his private
secretary, handed to those who were entitled to them.

"As you know, there are always jealousies and rivalries, which make
people forget all propriety. All the ladies of the town were there
on the platform, and, in his turn, the bandmaster from the village of
Mourmillon came up. This band was only to receive a second-class