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And at last, one day,"My friend the commissary," she said, "thinks he is on the righttrack now."

Such was the exact situation of Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne on thateventful Saturday evening in the month of April, 1872, when thepolice came to arrest M. Vincent Favoral, on the charge ofembezzlement and forgery.

It will be remembered, how, at his mother's request, Maxence hadspent that night in the Rue St. Gilles, and how, the next morning,unable any longer to resist his eager desire to see Mlle. Lucienne,he had started for the Hotel des Folies, leaving his sister aloneat home.

He retired to his room, as she had requested him, and, sinkingupon his old arm-chair in a fit of the deepest distress,"She is singing," he murmured: "Mme. Fortin has not told her anything."And at the same moment Mlle. Lucienne had resumed her song, thewords of which reached him like a bitter raillery,"Hope! 0 sweet, deceiving word!

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Mad indeed is he,Who does think he can trust thee,And take thy coin can afford.

Over his door every oneWill hang thee to his sorrow,Then saying of days begone,'Cash to-day, credit to-morrow!'

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'Tis very nice to run;But to have is better fun!""What will she say," thought Maxence, "when she learns the horribletruth?"And he felt a cold perspiration starting on his temples when heremembered Mlle. Lucienne's pride, and that honor has her only faith,the safety-plank to which she had desperately clung in the midst ofthe storms of her life. What if she should leave him, now that thename he bore was disgraced!

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A rapid and light step on the landing drew him from his gloomythoughts. Almost immediately, the door opened, and Mlle. Luciennecame in.

She must have dressed in haste; for she was just finishing hookingher dress, the simplicity of which seemed studied, so marvelouslydid it set off the elegance of her figure, the splendors of herwaist, and the rare perfections of her shoulders and of her neck.

A look of intense dissatisfaction could be read upon her lovelyfeatures; but, as soon as she had seen Maxence, her countenancechanged.

And, in fact, his look of utter distress, the disorder of hisgarments, his livid paleness, and the sinister look of his eyes,showed plainly enough that a great misfortune had befallen him.

In a voice whose agitation betrayed something more than the anxietyand the sympathy. of a friend,"What is the matter? What has happened?" inquired the girl.

"A terrible misfortune," he replied.

He was hesitating: he wished to tell every thing at once, and knewnot how to begin.

"I have told you," he said, "that my family was very rich.""Yes.""Well, we have nothing left, absolutely nothing!' She seemed tobreathe more freely, and, in a tone of friendly irony,"And it is the loss of your fortune," she said, "that distressesyou thus?"He raised himself painfully to his feet, and, in a low hoarse voice,"Honor is lost too," he uttered.

"Honor?""Yes. My father has stolen: my father has forged!"She had become whiter than her collar.