He stopped to examine the man’s face, leading him under the window.  Then he continued:—­

“Did madame go out this morning?”

“Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in about half an hour ago.”

“That is true, upon your honor?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will lose all.”

Jules returned to his wife.

“Clemence,” he said, “I find I must put my accounts in order.  Do not be offended at the inquiry I am going to make.  Have I not given you forty thousand francs since the beginning of the year?”

“More,” she said,—­“forty-seven.”

“Have you spent them?”

“Nearly,” she replied.  “In the first place, I had to pay several of our last year’s bills—­”

“I shall never find out anything in this way,” thought Jules.  “I am not taking the best course.”

At this moment Jules’ own valet entered the room with a letter for his master, who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had lighted on the signature he read it eagerly.  The letter was as follows:—­

Monsieur,—­For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I take the course of writing you this letter without possessing the advantage of being known to you; but my position, my age, and the fear of some misfortune compel me to entreat you to show indulgence in the trying circumstances under which our afflicted family is placed.  Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he may trouble your happiness by fancies which he confided to Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers and myself during his first attack of frenzy.  We think it right, therefore, to warn you of his malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such serious and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of my grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire discretion.

  If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not
  have written.  But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer
  of a mother, who begs you to destroy this letter.

  Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration.

Baronne de Maulincour, nee de Rieux.

“Oh! what torture!” cried Jules.

“What is it? what is in your mind?” asked his wife, exhibiting the deepest anxiety.

“I have come,” he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, “to ask myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my suspicions.  Judge, therefore, what I suffer.”

“Unhappy man!” said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper.  “I pity him; though he has done me great harm.”

“Are you aware that he has spoken to me?”

“Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?” she cried in terror.

“Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations in presence of this great peril.  Explain to me why you went out this morning.  Women think they have the right to tell us little falsehoods.  Sometimes they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us.  Just now you said a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes.”