allet inspired him with terror. He did not dare to
avow it, but the dream of his old age, with his fierce moustache and his
grim countenance, was the devoted love of some young girl, at whose
feet he might pour out, without shame, without distrust even, all the
tenderness of his simple and heroic heart.

On the evening of the day which had been marked for Camors by these two
interesting episodes, Mademoiselle de Luc d'Estrelles did not come down
to dinner, but sent word she had a headache. This message was received
with a general murmur, and with some sharp remarks from Madame de la
Roche-Jugan, which implied Mademoiselle was not in a position which
justified her in having a headache. The dinner, however, was not less
gay than usual, thanks to Mesdames Bacquiere and Van-Cuyp, and to their
husbands, who had arrived from Paris to pass Sunday with them.

To celebrate this happy meeting, they drank very freely of champagne,
talked slang, and imitated actors, causing much amusement to the
servants. Returning to the drawing-room, these innocent young things
thought it very funny to take their husbands' hats, put their feet in
them, and, thus shod, to run a steeplechase across the room. Meantime
Madame de la Roche-Jagan felt the General's pulse frequently, and found
it variable.

Next morning at breakfast all the General's guests assembled, except
Mademoiselle d'Estrelles, whose headache apparently was no better. They
remarked also the absence of the General, who was the embodiment of
politeness and punctuality. A sense of uneasiness was beginning to creep
over all, when suddenly the door opened and the General appeared leading
Mademoiselle d'Estrelles by the hand.

The young girl's eyes were red; her face was very pale. The General's
face was scarlet. He advanced a few steps, like an actor about to
address his audience; cast fierce glances on all sides of him, and
cleared his throat with a sound that echoed like the bass notes of a
grand piano. Then he spoke in a voice of thunder:

"My dear guests and friends, permit me to present to you the Marquise de
Campvallon d'Armignes!"

An iceberg at the North Pole is not colder than was the General's salon
at this announcement.

He held the young lady by the hand, and retaining his position in the
centre of the room, launched out fierce glances. Then his eyes began
to wander and roll convulsively in their sockets, as if he was himself
astonished at the effect his announcement