"At any rate, it is something saved out of all he has
wasted."
"Let us forget it," said Balthazar, addressing his friends; "I beg you
to say no more about it to-day."
Marguerite took her father's arm to lead the way to the
reception-rooms of the front house, where a sumptuous fete had been
prepared. As he entered the gallery, followed by his guests, he beheld
it filled with pictures and garnished with choice flowers.
"Pictures!" he exclaimed, "pictures!--and some of the old ones!"
He stopped short; his brow clouded; for a moment grief overcame him;
he felt the weight of his wrong-doing as the vista of his humiliation
came before his eyes.
"It is all your own, father," said Marguerite, guessing the feelings
that oppressed his soul.
"Angel, whom the spirits in heaven watch and praise," he cried, "how
many times have you given life to your father?"
"Then keep no cloud upon your brow, nor the least sad thought in your
heart," she said, "and you will reward me beyond my hopes. I have been
thinking of Lemulquinier, my darling father; the few words you said a
little while ago have made me value him; perhaps I have been unjust to
him; he ought to remain your humble friend. Emmanuel has laid by
nearly sixty thousand francs which he has economized, and we will give
them to Lemulquinier. After serving you so well the man ought to be
made comfortable for his remaining years. Do not be uneasy about us.
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