his whereabouts. But to do all this, money, gold, was his first necessity,--and he did not possess one penny. The maid brought a light to show him up. "Felicie," he said, "don't you hear a noise in the street, shouts, cries? Go and see what it means, and come and tell me." His wife, in her white dressing-gown, was sitting at a table, reading aloud to Francisque and Juan from a Spanish Cervantes, while the boys followed her pronunciation of the words from the text. They all three stopped and looked at Diard, who stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets; overcome, perhaps, by finding himself in this calm scene, so softly lighted, so beautiful with the faces of his wife and children. It was a living picture of the Virgin between her son and John. "Juana, I have something to say to you." "What has happened?" she asked, instantly perceiving from the livid paleness of her husband that the misfortune she had daily expected was upon them. "Oh, nothing; but I want to speak to you--to you, alone." And he glanced at his sons. "My dears, go to your room, and go to bed," said Juana; "say your prayers without me." The boys left the room in silence, with the incurious obedience of well-trained children. "My dear Juana," said Diard, in a coaxing voice, "I left you with very little money, and I regret it now. Listen to me; since I relieved you of the care of our income by giving you an allowance, have you not, like other women, laid something by?" "No," replied Juana, "I have nothing. In making that allowance you did not reckon the costs of the children's education. I don't say that to reproach you, my friend, only to explain my want of money. All that you gave me went to pay masters and--" "Enough!" cried Diard, violently. "Thunder of heaven! every instant is precious! Where are your jewels?" "You know very well I have never worn any." "Then there's not a sou to be had here!" cried Diard, frantically. "Why do you shout in that way?" she asked.