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"Very well, then," he said in a gruff tone, "let us all go to bed.

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I have worked so hard to-day, that I am quite exhausted. Peoplewho pretend that business is dull make me laugh. Never has M. deThaller been in the way of making so much money as now."When he spoke, they obeyed. So that Mlle. Gilberte was thus goingto have the whole night before her to resume possession of herself,to pass over in her mind the events of the evening, and deliberatecoolly upon the decision she must come to; for, she could not doubtit, Mme. Favoral would, the very next day, renew her questions.

What should she say? All? Mlle. Gilberte felt disposed to do soby all the aspirations of her heart, by the certainty of indulgentcomplicity, by the thought of finding in a sympathetic soul the echoof her joys, of her troubles, and of her hopes.

Yes. But Mme. Favoral was still the same woman, whose firmestresolutions vanished under the gaze of her husband. Let a pretendercome; let a struggle begin, as in the case of M. Costeclar, - wouldshe have strength enough to remain silent? No!

Then it would be a fearful scene with M. Favoral. He might,perhaps, even go to M. de Tregars. What scandal! For he was a manwho spared no one; and then a new obstacle would rise between them,more insurmountable still than the others.

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Mlle. Gilberte was thinking, too, of Marius's projects; of thatterrible game he was about to play, the issue of which was to decidetheir fate. He had said enough to make her understand all itsperils, and that a single indiscretion might suffice to set atnought the result of many months' labor and patience. Besides, tospeak, was it not to abuse Marius's confidence. How could sheexpect another to keep a secret she had been unable to keep herself?

At last, after protracted and painful hesitation, she decided thatshe was bound to silence, and that she would only vouchsafe thevaguest explanations.

It was in vain, then, that, on the next and the following days,Mme. Favoral tried to obtain that confession which she had seen,as it were, rise to her daughter's lips. To her passionateadjurations, to her tears, to her ruses even, Mlle. Gilberteinvariably opposed equivocal answers, a story through which nothingcould be guessed, save one of those childish romances which stopat the preface, - a schoolgirl love for a chimerical hero.

There was nothing in this very reassuring to a mother; but Mme.

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Favoral knew her daughter too well to hope to conquer her invincibleobstinacy. She insisted no more, appeared convinced, but resolvedto exercise the utmost vigilance. In vain, however, did she displayall the penetration of which she was capable. The severestattention did not reveal to her a single suspicious fact, not acircumstance from which she could draw an induction, until, at last,she thought that she must have been mistaken.

The fact is, that Mlle. Gilberte had not been long in feelingherself watched; and she observed herself with a tenaciouscircumspection that could hardly have been expected of her resoluteand impatient nature. She had trained herself to a sort of cheerfulcarelessness, to which she strictly adhered, watching everyexpression of her countenance, and avoiding carefully those hoursof vague revery in which she formerly indulged.

For two successive weeks, fearing to be betrayed by her looks, shehad the courage not to show herself at the window at the hour whenshe knew Marius would pass. Moreover, she was very minutelyinformed of the alternatives of the campaign undertaken by M. deTregars.

More enthusiastic than ever about his pupil, the Signor GismondoPulei never tired of singing his praise, and with such pomp ofexpression, and so curious an exuberance of gesticulation, that Mme.

Favoral was much amused; and, on the days when she was present ather daughter's lesson, she was the first to inquire,"Well, how is that famous pupil?"And, according to what Marius had, told him,"He is swimming in the purest satisfaction," answered the candidmaestro. "Every thing succeeds miraculously well, and much beyondhis hopes."Or else, knitting his brows-"He was sad yesterday," he said, "owing to an unexpecteddisappointment; but he does not lose courage. We shall succeed."The young girl could not help smiling to see her mother assistingthus the unconscious complicity of the Signor Gismondo. Then shereproached herself for having smiled, and for having thus come,through a gradual and fatal descent, to laugh at a duplicity atwhich she would have blushed in former times. In spite of herself,however, she took a passionate interest in the game that was beingplayed between her mother and herself, and of which her secret wasthe stake. It was an ever-palpitating interest in her hithertomonotonous life, and a source of constantly-renewed emotions.