them would chat together, or more often remain silent, face to face, sharing each other’s woe.  Later on she had profited by this intimacy to obtain information from Morange respecting affairs at the factory, of which her husband avoided speaking.  It was more particularly since she had suspected the latter of bad management, blunders and debts, that she endeavored to turn the accountant into a confidant, even a spy, who might aid her to secure as much control of the business as possible.  And this was why she was so anxious to return to the factory that day, and profit by the opportunity to see Morange privately, persuaded as she was that she would induce him to speak out in the absence of his superiors.

She scarcely tarried to take off her gloves and her bonnet.  She found the accountant in his little office, seated in his wonted place, and leaning over the everlasting ledger which was open before him.

“Why, is the christening finished?” he exclaimed in astonishment.

Forthwith she explained her presence in such a way as to enable her to speak of what she had at heart.  “Why, yes.  That is to say, I came away because I had such a dreadful headache.  The others have remained yonder.  And as we are alone here together it occurred to me that it might do me good to have a chat with you.  You know how highly I esteem you.  Ah!  I am not happy, not happy at all.”

She had sunk upon a chair overcome by the tears which she had been restraining so long in the presence of the happiness of others.  Quite upset at seeing her in this condition, having little strength himself, Morange wished to summon her maid.  He almost feared that she might have a fainting fit.  But she prevented him.

“I have only you left me, my friend,” said she.  “Everybody else forsakes me, everybody is against me.  I can feel it; I am being ruined; folks are bent on annihilating me, as if I had not already lost everything when I lost my child.  And since you alone remain to me, you who know my torments, you who have no daughter left you, pray for heaven’s sake help me and tell me the truth!  In that wise I shall at least be able to defend myself.”

On hearing her speak of his daughter Morange also had begun to weep.  And now, therefore, she might question him, it was certain that he would answer and tell her everything, overpowered as he was by the common grief which she had evoked.  Thus he informed her that an agreement was indeed on the point of being signed by Blaise and Beauchene, only it was not precisely a deed of partnership.  Beauchene having drawn large sums from the strong-box of the establishment for expenses which he could not confess—­a horrible story of blackmailing, so it was rumored—­had been obliged to make a confidant of Blaise, the trusty and active lieutenant who managed the establishment.  And he had even asked him to find somebody willing to lend him some money.  Thereupon the young man had offered it himself; but doubtless it was his father,