“Ah!”

Prosper started up as if he had received an electric shock.  His eyes, a moment before so dull and heavy, now sparkled with joy as if he had caught a glimpse of a messenger of hope.

“Madeleine,” he gasped, “Madeleine!”

The young girl was blushing crimson.  She seemed about to hastily retreat, and stepped back; but, Prosper having advanced toward her, she was overcome by a sentiment stronger than her will, and extended her hand, which he seized and pressed with much agitation.

They stood thus face to face, but with averted looks, as if they dared not let their eyes meet for fear of betraying their feelings; having much to say, and not knowing how to begin, they stood silent.

Finally Madeleine murmured, in a scarcely audible voice: 

“You, Prosper—­you!”

These words broke the spell.  The cashier dropped the white hand which he held, and answered bitterly: 

“Yes, this is Prosper, the companion of your childhood, suspected, accused of the most disgraceful theft; Prosper, whom your uncle has just delivered up to justice, and who, before the day is over, will be arrested, and thrown into prison.”

Madeleine, with a terrified gesture, cried in a tone of anguish: 

“Good heavens!  Prosper, what are you saying?”

“What, mademoiselle! do you not know what has happened?  Have not your aunt and cousins told you?”

“They have told me nothing.  I have scarcely seen my cousins this morning; and my aunt is so ill that I felt uneasy, and came to tell uncle.  But for Heaven’s sake speak:  tell me the cause of your distress.”

Prosper hesitated.  Perhaps it occurred to him to open his heart to Madeleine, of revealing to her his most secret thoughts.  A remembrance of the past chilled his confidence.  He sadly shook his head, and replied: 

“Thanks, mademoiselle, for this proof of interest, the last, doubtless, that I shall ever receive from you; but allow me, by being silent, to spare you distress, and myself the mortification of blushing before you.”

Madeleine interrupted him imperiously: 

“I insist upon knowing.”

“Alas, mademoiselle!” answered Prosper, “you will only too soon learn my misfortune and disgrace; then, yes, then you will applaud yourself for what you have done.”

She became more urgent; instead of commanding, she entreated; but Prosper was inflexible.

“Your uncle is in the adjoining room, mademoiselle, with the commissary of police and a detective.  They will soon return.  I entreat you to retire that they may not find you here.”

As he spoke he gently pushed her through the door, and closed it upon her.

It was time, for the next moment the commissary and Monsieur Fauvel entered.  They had visited the main entrance and waiting-room, and had heard nothing of what had passed in the study.

But Fanferlot had heard for them.