Morrel remarked, what her daughter had not observed, that her husband was writing on stamped paper. The terrible idea that he was writing his will flashed across her; she shuddered, and yet had not strength to utter a word.
Next day Morrel seemed as calm as ever, went into his office as usual, came to his breakfast punctually, and then, after dinner, he placed his daughter beside him, took her head in his arms, and held her for a long time against his bosom. In the evening, Julie told her mother that, although so calm in appearance, she had remarked that her father's heart beat violently.
The two next days passed almost similarly. On the evening of the 4th of September, M. Morrel asked his daughter for the key of his cabinet. Julie trembled at this request, which seemed to her of bad omen. Why did her father ask for this key, which she always kept, and which was only taken from her in childhood as a punishment! The young girl looked at Morrel.
"What have I done wrong, father," she said. "that you should take this key from me?"
"Nothing, my dear," replied the unhappy man, the tears starting to his eyes at this simple question,—"nothing, only I want it."
Julie made a pretense to feel for the key. "I must have left it in my room," she said.
And she went out, but instead of going to her apartment, she hastened to consult Emmanuel.
"Do not give this key to your father," said he, "and to-morrow morning, if possible, do not quit him for a moment."
She questioned Emmanuel, but he knew nothing, or would not say it if he did.
During the night between the 4th and 5th of September, Madame Morrel remained listening for every sound, and until three o'clock in the morning she heard her husband pacing the room in great agitation. It was three o'clock when he threw himself on the bed. The mother and daughter passed the night together. They had expected Maximilian since the previous evening. At eight o'clock in the morning Morrel entered their chamber. He was calm, but the agitation of the night was legible in his pale and careworn visage. They did not dare to ask him how he had slept. Morrel was kinder to his wife, more affectionate to his daughter, than he had ever been. He could not cease gazing at and kissing the sweet girl. Julie, mindful of Emmanuel's request, was following her father when he quitted the room, but he said to her, quickly:
"Remain with your mother, dearest." Julie insisted. "I wish you to do so," he said.
