“I saw it,” replied M. de Tregars.

“That man hates us:  he will not hesitate to commit a crime to avenge the atrocious humiliation you have just inflicted upon him.”

“I believe it too.”

Mlle. Gilberte made a gesture of distress.

“Why did you treat him so harshly?” she murmured.

“I had intended to remain calm, and it would have been politic to have done so.  But there are some insults which a man of heart cannot endure.  I do not regret what I have done.”

A long pause followed; and they remained standing, facing each other, somewhat embarrassed.  Mlle. Gilberte felt ashamed of the disorder of her dress.  M. de Tregars wondered how he could have been bold enough to enter this house.

“You have heard of our misfortune,” said the young girl at last.

“I read about it this morning, in the papers.”

“What! the papers know already?”

“Every thing.”

“And our name is printed in them?”

“Yes.”

She covered her face with her two hands.

“What disgrace!” she said.

“At first,” went on M. de Tregars, “I could hardly believe what I read.  I hastened to come; and the first shopkeeper I questioned confirmed only too well what I had seen in the papers.  From that moment, I had but one wish,—­to see and speak to you.  When I reached the door, I recognized M. Costeclar’s equipage, and I had a presentiment of the truth.  I inquired from the concierge for your mother or your brother, and heard that Maxence had gone out a few moments before, and that Mme. Favoral had just left in a carriage with M. Chapelain, the old lawyer.  At the idea that you were alone with Costeclar, I hesitated no longer.  I ran up stairs, and, finding the door open, had no occasion to ring.”

Mlle. Gilberte could hardly repress the sobs that rose to her throat.

“I never hoped to see you again,” she stammered; “and you’ll find there on the table the letter I had just commenced for you when M. Costeclar interrupted me.”

M. de Tregars took it up quickly.  Two lines only were written.  He read:  “I release you from your engagement, Marius.  Henceforth you are free.”

He became whiter than his shirt.

“You wish to release me from my engagement!” he exclaimed.  “You—­”

“Is it not my duty?  Ah! if it had only been our fortune, I should perhaps have rejoiced to lose it.  I know your heart.  Poverty would have brought us nearer together.  But it’s honor, Marius, honor that is lost too!  The name I bear is forever stained.  Whether my father is caught, or whether he escapes, he will be tried all the same, condemned, and sentenced to a degrading penalty for embezzlement and forgery.”

If M. de Tregars was allowing her to proceed thus, it was because he felt all his thoughts whirling in his brain; because she looked so beautiful thus, all in tears, and her hair loose; because there arose from her person so subtle a charm, that words failed him to express the sensations that agitated him.