ither my
mother nor my sister will want for any thing."

"My son!" resumed the cashier, "my children!"

Then, with a choking voice:

"I am worthy neither of your love nor your devotion, wretch that I
am! I made you lead a miserable existence, spend a joyless youth.
I imposed upon you every trial of poverty, whilst I--And now I leave
you nothing but ruin and a dishonored name."

"Make haste, father," interrupted Mlle. Gilberte. It seemed as if he
could not make up his mind.

"It is horrible to abandon you thus. What a parting! Ah! death
would indeed be far preferable. What will you think of me? I am
very guilty, certainly, but not as you think. I have been betrayed,
and I must suffer for all. If at least you knew the whole truth.
But will you ever know it? We will never see each other again."

Desperately his wife clung to him.

"Do not speak thus," she said. "Wherever you may find an asylum,
I will join you. Death alone can separate us. What do I care what
you may have done, or what the world will say? I am your wife. Our
children will come with me. If necessary, we will emigrate to
America; we'll change our name; we will work."

The knocks on the outer door were becoming louder and louder; and M.
Desormeaux' voice could be heard, endeavoring to gain a few moments
more.

"Come," said Maxence, "you cannot hesitate any longer."

And, overcoming his father's reluctance, he fastened one end of the
sheets around his waist.

"I am going to let you down, father," said he; "and, as soon as you
touch the ground, you must undo the knot. Take care of the
first-story windows; beware of the concierge; and, once in the street,
don't walk too fast. Make for the Boulevard, where you will be sooner
lost in the crowd."

The knocks had now become violent blows; and it was evident that the
door would soon be broken in, if M. Desormeaux did not make up his
mind to open it.

The light was put out. With the assistance of his daughter, M.
Favoral lifted himself upon the window-sill, whilst Maxence held
the sheets with both hands.

"I beseech you, Vincent," repeated Mme. Favoral, "write to us. We
shall be in mortal anxiety until we hear of your safety."

Maxence let the sheets slip slowly: in two seconds M. Favoral stood
on the pavement below.

"All right," he said.

The young man drew the sheets back rapidly, and threw them under
the bed. But Mlle. Gilberte remained long enough at the window to
reco