As spring approached, she told Raoul she designed him to spend the summer in the country, near her villa at St. Germain.  She wanted to have him with her all the time, and this was the only way of gratifying her wish.  She was surprised to find her proposal readily acquiesced in.  In a few days he told her he had rented a little house at Vesinet, and intended having his furniture moved into it.

“Then, just think, dear mother, what a happy summer we will spend together!” he said, with beaming eyes.

She was delighted for many reasons, one of which was that the expenses of the prodigal son would necessarily be lessened.  Anxiety as to the exhausted state of her finances made her bold enough to chide him at the dinner-table one day for having lost two thousand francs at the races that morning.

“You are severe, my dear,” said M. Fauvel with the carelessness of a rich man, who considered this sum a mere trifle.  “Mamma Lagors won’t object to footing his bills; mammas are created for the special purpose of paying bills.”

And, not observing that his wife had turned pale at these jocular words, he turned to Raoul, and added: 

“Don’t disturb yourself about a small sum like this, my boy; when you want money, come to me.”

What could Mme. Fauvel say?  Had she not followed Clameran’s orders, and told her husband that Raoul was wealthy?  She could not go now and tell him that he would never recover any money which he lent to a penniless spendthrift.

Why had she been made to tell this unnecessary lie?

She suspected the snare laid for her; but now it was too late to escape it:  struggles would only more deeply entangle her in its meshes.

The banker’s offer was soon accepted.  That same week Raoul went to his uncle’s bank, and boldly borrowed ten thousand francs.

When Mme. Fauvel heard of this piece of audacity, she wrung her hands in despair.

“What can he want with so much money?” she moaned to herself:  “what wicked extravagance is it for?” For some time Clameran had kept away from Mme. Fauvel’s house.  She decided to write and ask him to come and advise her as to what steps should be taken to check Raoul.

She hoped that this energetic, determined man, who was so fully awake to his duties as a guardian and an uncle, would make Raoul listen to reason, and instantly refund the borrowed money.

When Clameran heard what his graceless nephew had done, his surprise and anger were unbounded.  He expressed so much indignation against Raoul, that Mme. Fauvel was frightened at the storm she had raised, and began to make excuses for her son.

While they were discussing the matter, Raoul came in, and a violent altercation ensued between him and Clameran.

But the suspicions of Mme. Fauvel were aroused; she watched them, and it seemed to her—­could it be possible—­that their anger was feigned; that, although they abused and even threatened each other in the bitterest language, their eyes twinkled with amusement.