The imminence of the peril awoke suddenly in their souls the
memories of the past, and that strong affection which comes from
long habit, and a constant exchange of services rendered. Whatever
M. Favoral might have done, they only saw in him now the friend, the
host whose bread they had broken together more than a hundred times,
the man whose probity, up to this fatal night, had remained far
above suspicion.

Pale, excited, they crowded around him.

"Have you lost your mind?" spoke M. Desormeaux. "Are you going to
wait to be arrested, thrown into prison, dragged into a criminal
court?"

He shook his head, and in a tone of idiotic obstinacy,

"Have I not told you," he repeated, "that every thing is against me?
Let them come; let them do what they please with me."

"And your wife," insisted M. Chapelain, the old lawyer, "and your
children!"

"Will they be any the less dishonored if I am condemned by default?"

Wild with grief, Mme. Favoral was wringing her hands.

"Vincent," she murmured, "in the name of Heaven spare us the
harrowing agony to have you in prison."

Obstinately he remained silent. His daughter, Mlle. Gilberte,