they were trying to examine each other's consciences. In a low voice he murmured: 'Come, confess your relations.'
She shrugged her shoulders. 'You are absurd. Vaudrec was very fond of me, very, but there was nothing more, never.'
He stamped his foot. 'You lie! It is not possible.'
She replied calmly: 'It is so, nevertheless.'
He resumed his pacing to and fro; then pausing again, he said: 'Explain to me, then, why he left all his fortune to you.'
She did so with a nonchalant air: 'It is very simple. As you said just now, we were his only friends, or rather, I was his only friend, for he knew me when a child. My mother was a governess in his father's house. He came here continually, and as he had no legal heirs, he selected me. It is possible that he even loved me a little. But what woman has never been loved thus? He brought me flowers every Monday. You were never surprised at that, and he never brought you any. To-day he leaves me his fortune for the same reason, because he had no one else to leave it to. It would on the other hand have been extremely surprising if he had left it to you.'
'Why?'
'What are you to him?'
She spoke so naturally and so calmly that Georges hesitated before replying: 'It makes no difference; we cannot accept that bequest under those conditions. Everyone would talk about it and laugh at me. My fellow- journalists are already too much disposed to be jealous of me and to attack me. I have to be especially careful of my honor and my reputation. I cannot permit my wife to accept a legacy of that kind from a man whom rumor has already assigned to her as her lover. Forestier might perhaps have tolerated that, but I shall not.'
She replied gently: 'Very well, my dear, we will not take it; it will be a million less in our pockets, that is all.'
Georges paced the room and uttered his thoughts aloud, thus speaking to his wife without addressing her:
'Yes, a million--so much the worse. He did not think when making his will what a breach of etiquette he was committing. He did not realize in what a false, ridiculous position he was placing me. He should have left half of it to me--that would have made matters right.'
He seated himself, crossed his legs and began to twist the ends of his mustache, as was his custom when annoyed, uneasy, or pondering over a weighty question.
Madeleine took up a piece of embroidery upon which she worked occasionally, and said: 'I have nothing to say. You must decide.'
It was some time before he replied; then he said hesitatingly: 'The world would never understand how it was that Vaudrec constituted you his sole heiress and that I allowed it. To accept that legacy would be to avow guilty relations on your part and an infamous lack of self-respect on mine. Do you know how the acceptance of it might be interpreted? We should have to find some adroit means of palliating it. We should have to give people to suppose, for instance, that he divided his fortune between us, giving half to you and half to me.'
She said: 'I do not see how that can be done, since there is a formal will.'
He replied: 'Oh, that is very simple. We have no children; you can therefore deed me part of the inheritance. In that way we can silence malignant tongues.'
She answered somewhat impatiently: 'I do not see how we can silence malignant tongues since the will is there, signed by Vaudrec.'
He said angrily: 'Do you need to exhibit it, or affix it to the door? You are absurd! We will say that the fortune was left us jointly by Count de Vaudrec. That is all. You cannot, moreover, accept the legacy without my authority; I will only consent on the condition of a partition which will prevent me from becoming a laughing-stock for the world.'
She glanced sharply at him: 'As you will. I am ready.'
He seemed to hesitate again, rose, paced the floor, and avoiding his wife's piercing gaze, he said: 'No-- decidedly no--perhaps it would be better to renounce it altogether--it would be more correct--more honorable. From the nature of the bequest even charitably-disposed people would suspect illicit relations.'
He paused before Madeleine. 'If you like, my darling, I will return to M. Lamaneur's alone, to consult him and to explain the matter to him. I will tell him of my scruples and I will add that we have agreed to divide it in order to avoid any scandal. From the moment that I accept a portion of the inheritance it will be evident that there is nothing wrong. I can say: 'My wife accepts it because I, her husband, accept'--I, who am the best judge of what she can do without compromising herself.'
Madeleine simply murmured: 'As you wish.'
He continued: 'Yes, it will be as clear as day if that is done. We inherit a fortune from a friend who wished to make no distinction between us, thereby showing that his liking for you was purely Platonic. You may be sure that if he had given it a thought, that is what he would have done. He did not reflect--he did not foresee the consequences. As you said just now, he offered you flowers every week, he left you his wealth.'
She interrupted him with a shade of annoyance:
'I understand. No more explanations are necessary. Go to the notary at once.'
He stammered in confusion: 'You are right; I will go.' He took his hat, and, as he was leaving the room, he asked: 'Shall I try to compromise with the nephew for fifty thousand francs?'
She replied haughtily: 'No. Give him the hundred thousand francs he demands, and take them from my share if you wish.'
Abashed, he murmured: 'No, we will share it. After deducting fifty thousand francs each we will still have a million net.' Then he added: 'Until later, my little Made.'
He proceeded to the notary's to explain the arrangement decided upon, which he claimed originated with his wife. The following day they signed a deed for five hundred thousand francs, which Madeleine du Roy gave up to her husband.
On leaving the office, as it was pleasant, Georges proposed that they take a stroll along the boulevards. He was very tender, very careful of her, and laughed joyously while she remained pensive and grave.
It was a cold, autumn day. The pedestrians seemed in haste and walked along rapidly.
Du Roy led his wife to the shop into the windows of which he had so often gazed at the coveted chronometer.
'Shall I buy you some trinket?' he asked.
She replied indifferently: 'As you like.'
They entered the shop: 'What would you prefer, a necklace, a bracelet, or earrings?'
The sight of the brilliant gems made her eyes sparkle in spite of herself, as she glanced at the cases filled with costly baubles.
Suddenly she exclaimed: 'There is a lovely bracelet.'
It was a chain, very unique in shape, every link of which was set with a different stone.
Georges asked: 'How much is that bracelet?'
The jeweler replied: 'Three thousand francs, sir.'
'If you will let me have it for two thousand five hundred, I will take it.'
The man hesitated, then replied: 'No, sir, it is impossible.'
Du Roy said: 'See here--throw in this chronometer at fifteen hundred francs; that makes four thousand, and I will pay cash. If you do not agree, I will go somewhere else.'
The jeweler finally yielded. 'Very well, sir.'
The journalist, after leaving his address, said: 'You can have my initials G. R. C. interlaced below a baron's crown, engraved on the chronometer.'
Madeleine, in surprise, smiled, and when they left the shop, she took his arm quite affectionately. She thought him very shrewd and clever. He was right; now that he had a fortune he must have a title.
They passed the Vaudeville on their way arid, entering, secured a box. Then they repaired to Mme, de Marelle's at Georges' suggestion, to invite her to spend the evening with them. Georges rather dreaded the first meeting with Clotilde, but she did not seem to bear him any malice, or even to remember their disagreement. The dinner, which they took at a restaurant, was excellent, and the evening altogether enjoyable.
Georges and Madeleine returned home late. The gas was extinguished, and in order to light the way the
