Other People's Money
"Better kill her at once," said Mlle. Gilberte coldly. "She would suffer less."
It was by a torrent of invective that M. Favoral replied. His rage, dammed up for
the past four days, finding at last an outlet, flowed in gross insults and insane
threats. He spoke of throwing out in the street his wife and children, or starving
them out, or shutting up his daughter in a house of correction; until at last,
language failing his fury, beside himself, he left, swearing that he would bring M.
Costeclar home himself, and then they would see.
"Very well, we shall see," said Mlle. Gilberte.
Motionless in his place, and white as a plaster cast, Maxence had witnessed this
lamentable scene. A gleam of common-sense had enabled him to control his
indignation, and to remain silent. He had understood, that, at the first word, his
father's fury would have turned against him; and then what might have
happened? The most frightful dramas of the criminal courts have often had no
"No, this is no longer bearable!" he exclaimed.
Even at the time of his greatest follies, Maxence had always had for his sister a
fraternal affection. He admired her from the day she had stood up before him to
reproach him for his misconduct. He envied her her quiet determination, her
patient tenacity, and that calm energy that never failed her.
"Have patience, my poor Gilberte," he added: "the day is not far, I hope, when I
may commence to repay you all you have done for me. I have not lost my time
since you restored me my reason. I have arranged with my creditors. I have
found a situation, which, if not brilliant, is at least sufficiently lucrative to enable
me before long to offer you, as well as to our mother, a peaceful retreat."