M. Bertomy suddenly stopped.  He saw that his son was not in a condition to hear any more reproaches.

“But I will say no more,” he said.  “I came here not to reproach, but to, if possible, save the honor of our name, to prevent it from being published in the papers bearing the names of thieves and murderers.  Stand up and listen to me!”

At the imperious tone of his father, Prosper arose.  So many successive blows had reduced him to a state of torpor.

“First of all,” began M. Bertomy, “how much have you remaining of the stolen three hundred and fifty thousand francs?”

“Once more, father,” replied the unfortunate man in a tone of hopeless resignation, “once more I swear I am innocent.”

“So I supposed you would say.  Then our family will have to repair the injury you have done M. Fauvel.”

“What do you mean?”

“The day he heard of your crime, your brother-in-law brought me your sister’s dowry, seventy thousand francs.  I succeeded in collecting a hundred and forty thousand francs more.  This makes two hundred and ten thousand francs which I have brought with me to give to M. Fauvel.”

This threat aroused Prosper from his torpor.

“You shall do nothing of the kind!” he cried with unrestrained indignation.

“I will do so before the sun goes down this day.  M. Fauvel will grant me time to pay the rest.  My pension is fifteen hundred francs.  I can live upon five hundred, and am strong enough to go to work again; and your brother-in-law—­”

M. Bertomy stopped short, frightened at the expression of his son’s face.  His features were contracted with such furious rage that he was scarcely recognizable, and his eyes glared like a maniac’s.

“You dare not disgrace me thus!” he cried; “you have no right to do it.  You are free to disbelieve me yourself, but you have no right for taking a step that would be a confession of guilt, and ruin me forever.  Who and what convinces you of my guilt?  When cold justice hesitates, you, my father, hesitate not, but, more pitiless than the law, condemn me unheard!”

“I only do my duty.”

“Which means that I stand on the edge of a precipice, and you push me over.  Do you call that your duty?  What! between strangers who accuse me, and myself who swear that I am innocent, you do not hesitate?  Why?  Is it because I am your son?  Our honor is at stake, it is true; but that is only the more reason why you should sustain me, and assist me to defend myself.”

Prosper’s earnest, truthful manner was enough to unsettle the firmest convictions, and make doubt penetrate the most stubborn mind.

“Yet,” said M. Bertomy in a hesitating tone, “everything seems to accuse you.”

“Ah, father, you do not know that I was suddenly banished from Madeleine’s presence; that I was compelled to avoid her.  I became desperate, and tried to forget my sorrow in dissipation.  I sought oblivion, and found shame and disgust.  Oh, Madeleine, Madeleine!”