Sophie shared the same hope; like her husband she listened with indescribable anguish to the words of the man who was to dispose so absolutely of their fate, while Pascal said: "Next Saturday is your pay-day, is it not, my dear Dutertre? Let me call you so notwithstanding what has passed between us." "Thank God, he has some pity," thought Dutertre, and he replied aloud: "Yes, monsieur." "I would not wish, you understand, my dear Dutertre," continued Pascal, "to put you in ruinous embarrassment. I know Paris, and in the present business crisis you could not get credit for a cent, especially if it were known that I have withdrawn mine from you, and as, after all, you relied upon my name to meet your liabilities, did you not?" "Charles, we are saved!" whispered Sophie, panting, "he was only testing us." Dutertre, struck with this idea, which appeared to him all the more probable as he had at first suspected it, no longer doubted his safety; his heart beat violently, his contracted features relaxed into their ordinary cheerful expression, and he replied, stammering from excess of emotion: "In fact, sir, trusting blindly to your promises, I relied on your credit as usual." "Well, my dear Dutertre, that you may not find yourself in an embarrassed position, I have come back to tell you that, as you still have about a week, you had better provide for yourself elsewhere, as you cannot depend on Paris or on me." And M. Pascal closed the door, and took his departure. The reaction was so terrible that Dutertre fell back in his chair, pale, inanimate, and utterly exhausted. Hiding his face in his hands, he sobbed: "Lost, lost!" "Oh, our children!" cried Sophie, in a heartrending voice, as she threw herself down at her husband's knees, "our poor children!" "Charles," said the old man, extending his hands, and timidly groping his way to his son, "Charles, my beloved son, have courage!" "Oh, father, it is ruin, it is bankruptcy," said the unhappy man, with convulsive sobs. "The misery, oh, my God! the misery in store for us all!" At the height of this overwhelming sorrow came a cruel contrast; the little children, clamorous with joy, rushed into the parlour, exclaiming: "It is Madeleine; here is Madeleine!" CHAPTER X. At the sight of Madeleine, who was no other than the Marquise de Miranda, the happiness of Madame Dutertre was so great that for a moment all her sorrows and all her terrors for the future were forgotten; her sweet and gracious countenance beamed with joy, she could only pronounce these words in broken accents: "Madeleine, dear Madeleine! after such a long absence, at last you have come!" After the two young women had embraced each other Sophie said to her friend as she looked at her husband and the old man: "Madeleine, my husband and his father,--our father, as he calls me his daughter."