“If you feel under any significant obligations to me, monsieur, you have
it in your power to return them. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“A favor? you ask of me? Speak, monsieur, you have but to name it. My
fortune and life are at your disposal.”
“I will not hesitate, then, to explain myself. I am Prosper’s friend,
and deeply interested in his future. You can exonerate him from this
infamous charge of robbery; you can restore him to his honorable
position. You can do more than this, monsieur. He loves Mlle.
Madeleine.”
“Madeleine shall be his wife, monsieur,” interrupted the banker: “I give
you my word of honor. And I will so publicly exonerate him, that not
a shadow of suspicion will rest upon his name. I will place him in
a position which will prevent slander from reproaching him with the
painful remembrance of my fatal error.”
The fat man quietly took up his hat and cane, as if he had been paying
an ordinary morning call, and turned to leave the room, after saying,
“Good-morning.” But, seeing the weeping woman raise her clasped hands
appealingly toward him, he said hesitatingly:
“Monsieur, excuse my intruding any advice; but Mme. Fauvel--”
“Andre!” murmured the wretched wife, “Andre!”
The banker hesitated a moment; then, following the impulse of his heart,
ran to his wife, and, clasping her in his arms, said tenderly:
“No, I will not be foolish enough to struggle against my deep-rooted
love. I do not pardon, Valentine: I forget; I forget all!”