Young de Solis went to the door of the laboratory and persuaded Lemulquinier to make Balthazar come and speak to him.  On hearing of the urgent request of the young man, Claes answered, “I will come.”

“Emmanuel,” said Madame Claes when he returned to her, “take my sons away, and bring your uncle here.  It is time to give me the last sacraments, and I wish to receive them from his hand.”

When she was alone with her daughters she made a sign to Marguerite, who understood her and sent Felicie away.

“I have something to say to you myself, dear mamma,” said Marguerite who, not believing her mother so ill as she really was, increased the wound Pierquin had given.  “I have had no money for the household expenses during the last ten days; I owe six months’ wages to the servants.  Twice I have tried to ask my father for money, but did not dare to do so.  You don’t know, perhaps, that all the pictures in the gallery have been sold, and all the wines in the cellar?”

“He never told me!” exclaimed Madame Claes.  “My God! thou callest me to thyself in time!  My poor children! what will become of them?”

She made a fervent prayer, which brought the fires of repentance to her eyes.

“Marguerite,” she resumed, drawing the letter from her pillow, “here is a paper which you must not open or read until a time, after my death, when some great disaster has overtaken you; when, in short, you are without the means of living.  My dear Marguerite, love your father, but take care of your brothers and your sister.  In a few days, in a few hours perhaps, you will be the head of this household.  Be economical.  Should you find yourself opposed to the wishes of your father,—­and it may so happen, because he has spent vast sums in searching for a secret whose discovery is to bring glory and wealth to his family, and he will no doubt need money, perhaps he may demand it of you,—­should that time come, treat him with the tenderness of a daughter, strive to reconcile the interests of which you will be the sole protector with the duty which you owe to a father, to a great man who sacrificed his happiness and his life to the glory of his family; he can only do wrong in act, his intentions are noble, his heart is full of love; you will see him once more kind and affectionate—­you!  Marguerite, it is my duty to say these words to you on the borders of the grave.  If you wish to soften the anguish of my death, promise me, my child, to take my place beside your father; to cause him no grief; never to reproach him; never to condemn him.  Be a gentle, considerate guardian of the home until—­his work accomplished—­he is again the master of his family.”

“I understand you, dear mother,” said Marguerite, kissing the swollen eyelids of the dying woman.  “I will do as you wish.”

“Do not marry, my darling, until Gabriel can succeed you in the management of the property and the household.  If you married, your husband might not share your feelings, he might bring trouble into the family and disturb your father’s life.”