And now all was discovered, just as he was about to reach the goal of his ambition.  But how?  By whom?  What fatality had resuscitated a secret which he had believed buried with Madame Gerdy?

But where is the use, when one is at the bottom of an abyss, of knowing which stone gave way, or of asking down what side one fell?

The cab stopped in the Rue de Provence.  Noel leaned out of the door, his eyes exploring the neighbourhood and throwing a searching glance into the depths of the hall of the house.  Seeing no one, he paid the fare through the front window, before getting out of the cab, and, crossing the pavement with a bound, he rushed up stairs.

Charlotte, at sight of him, gave a shout of joy.

“At last it is you, sir!” she cried.  “Ah, madame has been expecting you with the greatest impatience!  She has been very anxious.”

Juliette expecting him!  Juliette anxious!

The advocate did not stop to ask questions.  On reaching this spot, he seemed suddenly to recover all his composure.  He understood his imprudence; he knew the exact value of every minute he delayed here.

“If any one rings,” said he to Charlotte, “don’t open the door.  No matter what may be said or done, don’t open the door!”

On hearing Noel’s voice, Juliette ran out to meet him.  He pushed her gently into the salon, and followed, closing the door.

There for the first time she saw his face.

He was so changed; his look was so haggard that she could not keep from crying out, “What is the matter?”

Noel made no reply; he advanced towards her and took her hand.

“Juliette,” he demanded in a hollow voice, fastening his flashing eyes upon her,—­“Juliette, be sincere; do you love me?”

She instinctively felt that something dreadful had occurred:  she seemed to breathe an atmosphere of evil; but she, as usual, affected indifference.

“You ill-natured fellow,” she replied, pouting her lips most provokingly, “do you deserve—­”

“Oh, enough!” broke in Noel, stamping his feet fiercely.  “Answer me,” he continued, bruising her pretty hands in his grasp, “yes, or no,—­do you love me?”

A hundred times had she played with her lover’s anger, delighting to excite him into a fury, to enjoy the pleasure of appeasing him with a word; but she had never seen him like this before.

She had wronged him greatly; and she dared not complain of this his first harshness.

“Yes, I love you,” she stammered, “do you not know it?”

“Why?” replied the advocate, releasing her hands; “why?  Because, if you love me you must prove it; if you love me, you must follow me at once,—­abandon everything.  Come, fly with me.  Time presses——­”

The young girl was terrified.

“Great heavens! what has happened?”

“Nothing, except that I have loved you too much, Juliette.  When I found I had no more money for your luxury, your caprices, I became wild.  To procure money, I,—­I committed a crime,—­a crime; do you understand?  They are pursuing me now.  I must fly:  will you follow me?”