When Balthazar retired, after, as we may say, filling his family with light and bathing them with tenderness, Emmanuel de Solis, who had shown some embarrassment of manner, took from his pockets three thousand ducats in gold, the possession of which he had feared to betray.

He placed them on the work-table, where Marguerite covered them with some linen she was mending; and then he went to his own house to fetch the rest of the money.

When he returned, Felicie had gone to bed.

Eleven o'clock struck; Martha, who sat up to undress her mistress, was still with Felicie.
"Where can we hide it ?" said Marguerite, unable to resist the pleasure of playing with the gold ducats,--a childish amusement which proved disastrous.
"I will lift this marble pedestal, which is hollow," said Emmanuel; "you can slip in the packages, and the devil himself will not think of looking for them there." Just as Marguerite was making her last trip but one from the work-table to the pedestal, carrying the gold, she suddenly gave a piercing cry, and let fall the packages, the covers of which broke as they fell, and the coins were scattered about the room.

Her father stood at the parlor door; the avidity of his eyes terrified her.
"What are you doing," he said, looking first at his daughter, whose terror nailed her to the floor, and then at the young man, who had hastily sprung up,--though his attitude beside the pedestal was sufficiently significant.