Meantime, Mme. Favoral, whispering to Mme. Desclavettes:

"Positively," she said in a troubled voice, "something serious must
have happened to--my husband. He to forget! He to fail in one of
his habits! It is the first time in twenty-six years."

The appearance of Maxence at this moment prevented her from going on.
M. Favoral was about to administer a sound reprimand to his son, when
dinner was announced.

"Come," exclaimed M. Chapelain, the old lawyer, the conciliating man
par excellence,--"come, let us to the table."

They sat down. But Mme. Favoral had scarcely helped the soup, when
the bell rang violently. Almost at the same moment the servant
appeared, and announced:

"The Baron de Thaller!"

More pale than his napkin, the cashier stood up. "The manager," he
stammered, "the director of the Mutual Credit Society."



II

Close upon the heels of the servant M. de Thaller came.

Tall, thin, stiff, he had a very small head, a flat face, pointed