But the fact of her having always been so modest in her personal expenses that her husband used to jestingly say that he was afraid she would end by being a miser; and her judicious, well-regulated management of household expenditures, causing her to spend much the same amount each year—­prevented her now being able to dispose of large sums, without giving rise to embarrassing questions.

M. Fauvel, the most generous of millionaires, delighted to see his wife indulge in any extravagance, no matter how foolish; but he would naturally expect to see traces of the money spent, something to show for it.

The banker might suddenly discover that double the usual amount of money was used in the house; and, if he should ask the cause of this astonishing outlay, what answer could she give?

In three months, Raoul had squandered a little fortune.  In the first place, he was obliged to have bachelor’s apartments, prettily furnished, and a handsome outfit from a fashionable tailor, besides the thousand little things indispensable to a society man; he must have a blooded horse and a coupe.  His doting mother felt it her duty to give him these luxuries, when her other sons were enjoying everything of the sort, besides many other advantages of which her poor Raoul was deprived.  But each day the extravagance of his fancies increased, and Mme. Fauvel began to be alarmed when his demands far exceeded her ability to gratify them.

When she would gently remonstrate, Raoul’s beautiful eyes would fill with tears, and in a sad, humble tone he would say: 

“Alas! you are right to refuse me this gratification.  What claim have I?  I must not forget that I am only the poor son of Valentine, not the rich banker’s child!”

This touching repentance wrung her heart, so that she always ended by granting him more than he had asked for.  The poor boy had suffered so much that it was her duty to console him, and atone for her past neglect.

She soon discovered that he was jealous and envious of his two brothers—­for, after all, they were his brothers—­Abel and Lucien.

“You never refuse them anything,” he would resentfully say:  “they were fortunate enough to enter life by the golden gate.  Their every wish is gratified; they enjoy wealth, position, home affection, and have a splendid future awaiting them.”

“But what is lacking to your happiness, my son?  Have you not everything that money can give? and are you not first in my affections?” asked his distressed mother.

“What do I want?  Apparently nothing, in reality everything.  Do I possess anything legitimately?  What right have I to your affection, to the comforts and luxuries you heap upon me, to the name I bear?  Is not my life an extortion, my very birth a fraud?”

When Raoul talked in this strain, she would weep, and overwhelm him with caresses and gifts, until she imagined that every jealous thought was vanished from his mind.