me, at Angers, he should learn that his name has been exposed,
tarnished, degraded, in a court of justice, that's all."

"I repeat to you, sir, that I am incapable of the infamy which is
attributed to me."

"You may tell that to M. Petit-Jean."

"But I confess that, in the absence of M. Smith, who has so unworthily
abused my confidence, that--"

"The scoundrel Smith!"

"The absence of M. Smith places me in a cruel embarrassment. I am
innocent,--let them accuse me, I will prove myself guiltless; but such
an accusation, even, must always disgrace a gentleman."

"Well?"

"Be so good as to use the sum I have just handed to you in part payment
to the person who holds the acceptance."

"That money belongs to a client and is sacred."

"In two or three days I will repay you."

"You will not be able."

"I have resources."

"You have none; not visible at least. Your household furniture, your
horses, do not belong to you, as you declare; this has to me the
appearance of a disgraceful fraud."

"You are severe, sir; but, admitting what you say, do you not suppose
that I shall turn everything into money in such a desperate extremity?
Only, as it will be impossible for me to procure, between this and noon
to-morrow, the one hundred thousand francs, I entreat you to employ the
money I have just handed to you in procuring this unfortunate bill, or,
at least, as you are very rich, advance the money. Do not leave me in
such a position."

"Me? Why, is the man mad?"

"Sir, I beseech you, in my father's name, which you have mentioned to
me, be so kind as to--"

"I am kind to those who deserve it," said the notary, harshly. "An
honest man myself, I hate swindlers, and should not be sorry to see one
of those high-minded gentlemen, without faith or honour, impious and
reprobate, put in the pillory, as an example to others; but I hear your
horses, who are impatient to depart, M. le Vicomte," said the notary,
with a smile that displayed his black fangs.

At this moment some one knocked at the door of the apartment.

"Who's there?" inquired Jacques Ferrand.

"Madame the Countess d'Orbigny," said the chief clerk.

"Request her to wait a moment."

"The stepmother of the Marchioness d'Harville?" exclaimed M. de
Saint-Remy.

"Yes, sir; she has an appointment with me,--so, your servant, sir."

"Not a word of this, sir!" cried M. de Saint-Remy, in a menacing voice.

"I told you, sir, that a notary is as discreet as a con