d away her
tears, and replied, gently: "I am listening, monsieur."

He had had time to prepare his discourse. "First of all, madame," he
remarked, "I must tell you that I was the count's confidential agent. In
him I lose a protector. Respect alone prevents me from saying a friend.
He had no secrets from me." M. Fortunat saw so plainly that Madame
d'Argeles did not understand a word of this sentimental exordium that he
thought it necessary to add: "I tell you this, not so much to gain
your consideration and good-will, as to explain to you how I became
acquainted with these matters relating to your family--how I became
aware of your existence, for instance, which no one else suspected." He
paused, hoping for some reply, a word, a sign, but not receiving this
encouragement, he continued: "I must, first of all, call your attention
to the peculiar situation of M. de Chalusse, and to the circumstances
which immediately preceded and attended his departure from life. His
death was so unexpected that he was unable to make any disposition of
his property by will, or even to indicate his last wishes. This, madame,
is fortunate for you. M. de Chalusse had certain prejudices against you,
as you are aware. Poor count. He certainly had the best heart in the
world, and yet hatred with him was almost barbaric in its intensity.
There can be no doubt whatever, that he had determined to deprive you
of your inheritance. With this intention he had already begun to convert
his estates into ready money, and had he lived six months longer you
would not have received a penny."

With a gesture of indifference, which was difficult to explain after
the vehemence and the threatening tone of her letter, Madame d'Argeles
murmured:

"Ah, well! what does it matter?"

"What does it matter?" repeated M. Fortunat. "I see, madame, that your
grief prevents you from realizing the extent of the peril you have
escaped. M. de Chalusse had other, and more powerful reasons even than
his hatred for wishing to deprive you of your share of his property.
He had sworn that he would give a princely fortune to his beloved
daughter."

For the first time, Madame d'Argeles's features assumed an expression of
surprise. "What, my brother had a child?"

"Yes, madame, an illegitimate daughter, Mademoiselle Marguerite, a
lovely and charming girl whom I had the pleasure of restoring to his
care some years ago. She has been living with him for six months or so;
and he was