The bright light streaming through his curtains, made more dazzling by the deep snow with which the garden and the surrounding roofs were covered, recalled him to the consciousness of things as they were. He felt a shock throughout his whole being, and, even before his mind began to work, that vague impression of melancholy which misfortunes, momentarily forgotten, leave in their place. All the familiar noises of the factory, the dull throbbing of the machinery, were in full activity. So the world still existed! and by slow degrees the idea of his own responsibility awoke in him. "To-day is the day," he said to himself, with an involuntary movement toward the dark side of the room, as if he longed to bury himself anew in his long sleep. The factory bell rang, then other bells in the neighborhood, then the Angelus. "Noon! Already! How I have slept!" He felt some little remorse and a great sense of relief at the thought that the drama of settling-day had passed off without him. What had they done downstairs? Why did they not call him? He rose, drew the curtains aside, and saw Risler and Sigismond talking together in the garden. And it was so long since they had spoken to each other! What in heaven's name had happened? When he was ready to go down he found Claire at the door of his room. "You must not go out," she said. "Why not?" "Stay here. I will explain it to you." "But what's the matter? Did any one come from the Bank?" "Yes, they came--the notes are paid." "Paid?" "Risler obtained the money. He has been rushing about with Planus since early morning. It seems that his wife had superb jewels. The diamond necklace alone brought twenty thousand francs. He has also sold their house at Asnieres with all it contained; but as time was required to record the deed, Planus and his sister advanced the money." She turned away from him as she spoke. He, on his side, hung his head to avoid her glance. "Risler is an honorable man," she continued, "and when he learned from whom his wife received all her magnificent things--" "What!" exclaimed Georges in dismay. "He knows?" "All," Claire replied, lowering her voice. The wretched man turned pale, stammered feebly: "Why, then--you?" "Oh! I knew it all before Risler. Remember, that when I came home last night, I told you I had heard very cruel things down at Savigny, and that I would have given ten years of my life not to have taken that journey." "Claire!" Moved by a mighty outburst of affection, he stepped toward his wife; but her face was so cold, so sad, so resolute, her despair was so plainly written in the stern indifference of her whole bearing, that he dared not take her in his arms as he longed to do, but simply murmured under his breath: "Forgive!--forgive!"