e other circumstances known to both of us which are more worthy
of your attention--circumstances which may dispose you to reconsider
your determination."

"Nothing will do that," she replied; "not any circumstance."

Etta was speaking to De Chauxville and thinking of Paul Alexis.

"I should like to know since when you have discovered that you never
could under any circumstances marry me," pursued M. de Chauxville. "Not
that it matters, since it is too late. I am not going to allow you to
draw back now. You have gone too far. All this winter you have allowed
me to pay you conspicuous and marked attentions. You have conveyed to me
and to the world at large the impression that I had merely to speak in
order to obtain your hand."

"I doubt," said Etta, "whether the world at large is so deeply
interested in the matter as you appear to imagine. I am sorry that I
have gone too far, but I reserve to myself the right of retracing my
footsteps wherever and whenever I please. I am sorry I conveyed to you
or to any one else the impression that you had only to speak in order to
obtain my hand, and I can only conclude that your overweening vanity has
led you into a mistake which I will be generous enough to hold my tongue
about."

The diplomatist was for a moment taken aback.

"Mais--" he exclaimed, with indignant arms outspread; and even in his
own language he could find nothing to add to the expressive
monosyllable.

"I think you had better go," said Etta quietly. She went toward the
fire-place and rang the bell.

M. de Chauxville took up his hat and gloves.

"Of course," he said coldly, his voice shaking with suppressed rage,
"there is some reason for this. There is, I presume, some one else--some
one has been interfering. No one interferes with me with impunity. I
shall make it my business to find out who is this--"

He did not finish: for the door was thrown open by the butler, who
announced:

"Mr. Alexis."

Paul came into the room with a bow toward De Chauxville, who was going
out, and whom he knew slightly.

"I came back," he said, "to ask what evening next week you are free. I
have a box for the 'Huguenots.'"

Paul did not stay. The thing was arranged in a few moments, and as he
left the drawing-room he heard the wheels of De Chauxville's carriage.

Etta stood for a moment when the door had closed behind the two men,
looking at the portiere which had hidden them from sight, as if
following them in thought.