"No, monsieur; it's not possible," she rejoined; "there is some mistake, it cannot be my husband. Why should Auguste kill himself--young, rich, and happy as he was?" "It would seem, madame, that he was much less happy than you like to think. And as to being rich, he was so no longer, for he had ruined himself utterly on the Bourse; he was penniless, and he lacked the courage to endure these hard blows of fortune." "Ruined!" cried the young woman, springing to her feet. "What do you say, monsieur? Ruined! why, then I am ruined, too! Then I have nothing! Why, that would be too terrible; it would be ghastly!" "Poor Auguste was right," thought Cherami, observing Fanny's despair; "it isn't his death that grieves his wife most." "But, monsieur, how do you know--how did you learn of this event? And even if my husband is dead, how do you know that he was ruined?" "Be good enough to listen a moment, madame. This noon, after breakfasting at Passy with some worthy people,--who must be expecting me to dinner at this moment, by the way, but I shall not go,--I had gone to smoke a cigar in the Bois de Boulogne, where there were very few people, the cold being so intense. There I met your husband; we were acquainted, he had seen me on a certain occasion--in short, he knew what sort of man I am. He came to me and asked me if I would do him an important service; as you may imagine, madame, I placed myself at his disposal. We went to a cafe, where he wrote two letters. One was for me, which he made me promise not to open until half an hour after he had left me; then he went away. I waited the half-hour, then opened the letter. He told me therein of his deplorable determination, and of the reasons which had led him to it; then he requested me to take the other letter--to its address." "For whom was that other letter?" "For you, madame. Here it is." Fanny took in a trembling hand the letter which Cherami handed her, and read in an altered voice: "'I thought, madame, that by marrying you I ensured the happiness of both; I was mistaken; I needed a loving wife to calm and allay the vivacity of my passions; I found in you simply a woman who adored money and pleasure above all else.'" At that, Fanny paused, and read the remainder of the letter to herself: "I make no reproaches, madame; a woman cannot recast her nature, especially at your age. Feeling is a gift of nature, as selfishness is a vice of the heart; I judged you ill; it was my fault, not yours. Being unable to enjoy the domestic happiness of which I had dreamed, I tried to replace it by all the enjoyments arising from vanity; I have failed, and I have lost all that I possessed. You, too, are interested in the Bourse; take my advice, madame, and do not speculate." Again Fanny paused, to heave a tremendous sigh, then read on: