And at this moment he found lurking
in his memory a number of observations, trifling in themselves,
but which corroborated his frightful suspicions, and which, by
proving the certainty of this last incident, opened his eyes as
to the character and life of these two women.
Had they really waited till the portrait was given them before
robbing him of his purse? In such a combination the theft was
even more odious. The painter recollected that for the last two
or three evenings Adelaide, while seeming to examine with a
girl's curiosity the particular stitch of the worn silk netting,
was probably counting the coins in the purse, while making some
light jests, quite innocent in appearance, but no doubt with the
object of watching for a moment when the sum was worth stealing.
"The old admiral has perhaps good reasons for not marrying
Adelaide, and so the Baroness has tried----"
But at this hypothesis he checked himself, not finishing his
thought, which was contradicted by a very just reflection, "If
the Baroness hopes to get me to marry her daughter," thought he,
"they would not have robbed me."
Then, clinging to his illusions, to the love that already had
taken such deep root, he tried to find a justification in some
accident. "The purse must have fallen on the floor," said he to
himself, "or I left it lying on my chair. Or perhaps I have it
about me--I am so absent-minded!" He searched himself with
hurried movements, but did not find the ill-starred purse.
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