The only anxiety she felt was, how Raoul would bear the disappointment, and how she could calm his despair.

She thought that she would gain time by letting Raoul try the key; and then, when he could not open the safe, he would keep his promise, and wait until the next day.  There was surely no harm in letting him try the lock, when he could not touch the money.

“When he sees there is no chance of success,” she thought, “he will listen to my entreaties; and to-morrow—­to-morrow——­”

What she could do to-morrow she knew not, she did not even ask herself.  But in extreme situations the least delay inspires hope, as if a short respite meant sure salvation.

The condemned man, at the last moment, begs for a reprieve of a day, an hour, a few seconds.  Raoul was about to kill himself:  his mother prayed to God to grant her one day, not even a day, one night; as if in this space of time some unexpected relief would come to end her misery.

They reached Prosper’s office, and Raoul placed the light on a high stool so that it lighted the whole room.

He then summoned up all his coolness, or rather that mechanical precision of movement, almost independent of will, of which men accustomed to peril avail themselves in time of need.

Rapidly, with the dexterity of experience, he slipped the buttons on the five letters composing the name of G, y, p, s, y.

His features, during this short operation, expressed the most intense anxiety.  He was fearful that his nervous energy might give out; of not being able to open the safe; of not finding the money there when he opened it; of Prosper having changed the word; or perhaps having neglected to leave the money in the safe.

Mme. Fauvel saw these visible apprehensions with alarm.  She read in his eyes that wild hope of a man who, passionately desiring an object, ends by persuading himself that his own will suffices to overcome all obstacles.

Having often been present when Prosper was preparing to leave his office, Raoul had fifty times seen him move the buttons, and lock the safe, just before leaving the bank.  Indeed, having a practical turn of mind, and an eye to the future, he had even tried to lock the safe himself on several occasions, while waiting for Prosper.

He inserted the key softly, turned it around, pushed it farther in, and turned it a second time; then thrust it in suddenly, and turned it again.  His heart beat so loudly that Mme. Fauvel could hear its throbs.

The word had not been changed; the safe opened.

Raoul and his mother simultaneously uttered a cry; she of terror, he of triumph.

“Shut it again!” cried Mme. Fauvel, frightened at the incomprehensible result of Raoul’s attempt:  “Come away!  Don’t touch anything, for Heaven’s sake!  Raoul!”

And, half frenzied, she clung to Raoul’s arm, and pulled him away so abruptly, that the key was dragged from the lock, and, slipping along the glossy varnish of the safe-door, made a deep scratch some inches long.