When this letter had been read, there was a scene between Zélie and Minoret, which ended by the confession of the theft, and all the circumstances relating to it and the strange scenes to which it had everywhere given rise, even in the world of dreams. The million fascinated Zélie quite as much as it had fascinated Minoret.
“You stay quietly here,” said Zélie to her husband, without reproaching him at all for his follies, “I will look after all this. We will keep the money, and Désiré shall not fight.”
Madame Minoret put on her hat and shawl, ran over to Ursule’s with her son’s letter, and found her alone, for it was about midday.
In spite of her assurance, Zélie Minoret was chilled by the cold glance that the orphan gave her; but she curbed herself, as it were, in her cowardice and assumed an easy tone.
“Here, Mademoiselle Mirouët, will you oblige me by reading this letter and telling me what you think of it?” she cried, holding out the deputy’s letter to Ursule.
Ursule experienced a thousand conflicting emotions upon reading this letter, which told her how much she was loved, and what care Savinien took of the honor of her whom he was taking for his wife; but she was both too religious and too charitable to wish to be the cause of her bitterest enemy’s death or suffering.
“I promise, madame, to prevent this duel, and you may be easy; but I beg you will leave me this letter.”
