Edouard was moved; his heart was agitated by pity and remorse, and he looked at his daughter for the first time.
"Well," he said to Adeline, "I will see; if I can arrange my affairs, I will go with you."
"A single thing, but a most important one; I must find out--where are you staying now?"
"At a hotel in Faubourg Saint-Antoine; see, here is my address."
"Give it to me; to-morrow I will go to see you."
"Yes; until to-morrow. Adieu, I leave you."
Edouard hurried away, and Adeline returned to her hotel, passing from hope to fear and from fear to hope. She knew her husband, she knew how little she could rely upon his promises, so that she awaited the morrow with anxiety. But on the morrow Dufresne and Lampin returned with money. The discounter had fallen into the trap; he had thought that he had recognized the banker's signature. Those men led Edouard away; they abandoned themselves anew to the pleasures of the table and the gambling house. They made Murville drunk; they put his remorse and his scruples to silence; they laughed at his fears; and Adeline, instead of seeing him whom she expected, received in the morning a note containing only these words:
"Do not try to see me again, do not hope that I will go with you to bury myself in a cottage; that sort of thing does not suit me. Leave Paris without me; this is the last command that you will receive from your husband, who leaves you entirely at liberty to do whatever you please."
"You have no father now," she said to little Ermance; "poor child, what will your lot be? Let us leave this city, let us follow my husband's last orders. Let us go back to the honest villagers; at the farm they will not spurn me. I shall not blush to ask them for work. O mother! If you were still alive, I should find comfort in your arms. If only I had followed your advice! Perhaps Edouard then--but it's too late! At all events, you never knew the full extent of my sorrow."
Adeline sold all that she thought unlikely to be of use to her in the situation which she was about to occupy. No more jewels, no more flowers, no superfluous wardrobe; in a simple dress and a straw hat tied with a modest ribbon, with her daughter on one arm and a small bundle on the other,--thus did Madame Murville set out for Guillot's farm.