Mme. Favoral shuddered.  Still under the impression of the scene which had just taken place, his heart heavy, and his eyes full of tears, Maxence did not answer.

“It is doubtless a wager,” resumed the father, “and you wish to know how far my patience may go.”

“I do not understand you,” stammered the young man.

“The money that you used to get, I know not where, doubtless fails you now, or at least is no longer sufficient, and you go on making debts right and left—­at the tailor’s, the shirt maker’s, the jeweler’s.  Of course, it’s simple enough.  We earn nothing; but we wish to dress in the latest style, to wear a gold chain across our vest, and then we make dupes.”

“I have never made any dupes, father.”

“Bah!  And what, then, do you call all these people who came this very day to present me their bills?  For they did dare to come to my office!  They had agreed to come together, expecting thus to intimidate me more easily.  I told them that you were of age, and that your business was none of mine.  Hearing this, they became insolent, and commenced speaking so loud, that their voices could be heard in the adjoining rooms.  At that very moment, the manager, M. de Thaller, happened to be passing through the hall.  Hearing the noise of a discussion, he thought that I was having some difficulty with some of our stockholders, and he came in, as he had a right to.  Then I was compelled to confess everything.”

He became excited at the sound of his words, like a horse at the jingle of his bells.  And, more and more beside himself: 

“That is just what your creditors wished,” he pursued.  “They thought I would be afraid of a row, and that I would ‘come down.’  It is a system of blackmailing, like any other.  An account is opened to some young rascal; and, when the amount is reasonably large, they take it to the family, saying, ‘Money, or I make row.’  Do you think it is to you, who are penniless, that they give credit?  It’s on my pocket that they were drawing,—­on my pocket, because they believed me rich.  They sold you at exorbitant prices every thing they wished; and they relied on me to pay for trousers at ninety francs, shirts at forty francs, and watches at six hundred francs.”

Contrary to his habit, Maxence did not offer any denial.

“I expect to pay all I owe,” he said.

“You!”

“I give my word I will!”

“And with what, pray?”

“With my salary.”

“You have a salary, then?”

Maxence blushed.

“I have what I earn at my employer’s.”

“What employer?”

“The architect in whose office M. Chapelain helped me to find a place.”

With a threatening gesture, M. Favoral interrupted him.

“Spare me your lies,” he uttered.  “I am better posted than you suppose.  I know, that, over a month ago, your employer, tired of your idleness, dismissed you in disgrace.”