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. The rattle of the gold upon the ground was
horrible, the scattering of it prophetic.
"I could not be mistaken," said Balthazar, sitting down; "I heard the
sound of gold."
He was not less agitated than the young people, whose hearts were
beating so in unison that their throbs might be heard, like the
ticking of a clock, amid the profound silence which suddenly settled
on the parlor.
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