Her replies, made clearly and rapidly, and conforming to her previous explanations, were plausible, taken as a whole. It was not improbable that some counsellor of the Dannemarie family should have interposed before the signing of the marriage contract, to turn Frasne’s passion to account and exact an absolute and definite settlement on her; it would safeguard the young woman’s future and make her circumstances more dignified and independent. Why did Maurice doubt these statements? Did they not sufficiently destroy his happiness? It was already too much that he had yielded to a sort of entombment, from which he awakened now in anger; too much that by an unworthy compromise he had delayed his return to work until this end of their year of love. But he had not suspected the tainted origin of this fortune of Edith’s, though he deluded himself into thinking that he would restore it completely some day by his own earnings. And, lo, here was the truth now shedding the veil that hid it, crushing his pride and shattering all his self-esteem. This fortune, even if it belonged of right to Edith, came really from the man whose home he had ruined. That he should have turned the least particle of it to his own account was an infamous proceeding that he could not tolerate at any price. With a sinking sensation, he made a mental calculation of the amount of his indebtedness to her. “Your money is deposited in the International Bank of Milan, Edith. Do you know how much of it has been used?” “You have had charge of it.” “Eight thousand francs, more or less.” “We have not spent much,” she protested gently. As a matter of fact, this sum, added to what he had had himself, came to a very moderate figure for the expenses of a whole year spent in travel. But at Orta, where they had stayed for six months, living was very cheap, diversions were infrequent and not costly. Edith, after a brief fling of extravagance, had shown herself always easy to please, quite simple and content with few expenditures, finding her love enough. When and how could he get hold of eight thousand francs? As long as he was unable to reimburse her he should feel crushed, and dishonoured, his life a burden to him. Because he deeply resented his humiliation, Maurice loaded his companion with reproach. “Very well, then. I am your debtor. I will pay you back, though. After that we’ll see.” “What a discussion for two lovers,” sighed Edith, at her wits’ end, discouraged, beaten: “on the day of our anniversary!” She hid her face, and Maurice, more miserable than herself, came up to her and tried to pull away her clenched hands. “Listen, Edith, I don’t accuse you, not you yourself. We have been living together as if we were married. I have had no thought but for our happiness. I was wrong. I am still quite young.” She yielded her hands up to him, not afraid to show him her poor swollen eyes. “Shouldn’t I have accepted everything from you and been grateful for it?”