The Abbe Loraux and Desroches endeavored to comfort Agathe, who never ceased to weep at her aunt's bedside.

She listened to them in silence, and obstinately shook her head; Joseph and the Descoings alone knew the extent and depth of her inward wound.
"He will learn to do better, mother," said Joseph, when Desroches and Bixiou had left.
"Oh!" cried the widow, "Philippe is right,--my father cursed me: I have no right to--Here, here is your money," she said to Madame Descoings, adding Joseph's three hundred francs to the two hundred found on Philippe.

"Go and see if your brother does not need something," she said to Joseph.
"Will you keep a promise made to a dying woman ?" asked Madame Descoings, who felt that her mind was failing her.
"Yes, aunt." "Then swear to me to give your property to young Desroches for a life annuity.

My income ceases at my death; and from what you have just said, I know you will let that wretch wring the last farthing out of you." "I swear it, aunt." The old woman died on the 31st of December, five days after the terrible blow which old Desroches had so innocently given her.

The five hundred francs--the only money in the household--were barely enough to pay for her funeral.