with the good woman, as you would see;
for years I've had it, because I was her only link with the gay world
she was born to be an ornament in, and the only one free to be trusted
with the tale of her misery. Well, you know--you are a man of the world,
M. Montaiglon--you know the dangers of such a correspondence between a
person of my reputation, that is none of the best, because I have been
less a hypocrite than most, and a lady in her position. It's a gossiping
community this, long-lugged and scandal-loving like all communities
of its size; it is not the Faubourg St. Honore, where intrigues go on
behind fans and never an eye cocked or a word said about it; and I'll
not deny but there have been scandalous and cruel things said about the
lady and myself. Now, as God's my judge--"

"Pardon, monsieur," said the Count, eager to save this protesting
gentleman another _betise_; "I quite understand, I think,--the lady
finds you a discreet friend. Naturally her illness has unmanned you. The
scandal of the world need never trouble a good man."

"But a merely middling-good man, M. Montaiglon," cried the Chamberlain;
"you'll allow that's a difference. Lord knows I lay no claim to a
crystal virtue! In this matter I have no regard for my own reputation,
but just for that very reason I'm anxious about the lady's. What
happened in that room there was that I've had to do an ill thing and
make an end of an auld sang. I'm rarely discreet in my own interest,
M. Montaiglon, but it had to be shown this time, and as sure as death I
feel like a murderer at the havoc I have wrought with that good woman's
mind!"

He stopped suddenly; a lump was in his throat. In the beam of light that
came through the hole in a shutter of a house they passed, Montaiglon
saw that his companion's face was all wrought with wretchedness, and a
tear was on his cheek.

The discovery took him aback. He had ungenerously deemed the strained
voice in the darkness beside him a mere piece of play-acting, but
here was proof of genuine feeling, all the more convincing because the
Chamberlain suddenly brisked up and coughed and assumed a new tone, as
if ashamed of his surrender to a sentiment.

"I have been compelled to be cruel to-night to a woman, M. Montaiglon,"
said he, "and that is not my nature. And--to come to another
consideration that weighed as much with me as any--this unpleasant duty
of mine that still sticks in my throat like funeral-cake was partly
forced