ss this miserable hypocrite;
but as she was returning to the house, an idea which an old diplomatist
need not have been ashamed of entered her mind. She said to herself
that as Madame Leon was unmasked she was no longer to be feared; so
why should she be sent away? "A known spy can undoubtedly be made a most
valuable auxiliary. Why shouldn't I make use of this wicked woman?"
thought Mademoiselle Marguerite. "I can conceal from her what I don't
wish her to know, and with a little skill I can make her carry to her
employers such information as will serve my plans. By watching her, I
shall soon discover my enemy; and who knows if, by this means, I may not
succeed in finding an explanation of the fatality that pursues me?"

When Mademoiselle Marguerite returned to her place beside the count's
bedside, she had calmly and irrevocably made up her mind. She would
not only retain Madame Leon in her service, but she would display even
greater confidence in her than before. Such a course was most repugnant
to Marguerite's loyal, truthful nature; but reason whispered to her that
in fighting with villains, it is often necessary to use their weapons;
and she had her honor, her life, and her future to defend. A strange and
but imperfectly defined suspicion had entered her mind. To-night, for
the first time, she thought she could discover a mysterious connection
between Pascal's misfortunes and her own. Was it mere chance which had
struck them at the same time, and in much the same manner? Who would
have profited by the abominable crime which had dishonored her lover,
had it not been for M. de Chalusse's death and her own firmness?
Evidently the Marquis de Valorsay, for whom Pascal's flight had left the
field clear.

All these thoughts were well calculated to drive away sleep; but the
poor girl was only twenty, and it was the second night she had watched
by the count's bedside. Thus at last fatigue overcame her, and she fell
asleep.

In the morning, about seven o'clock, Madame Leon was obliged to shake
her to rouse her from the kind of lethargy into which she had fallen.
"Mademoiselle," said the housekeeper, in her honeyed voice; "dear
mademoiselle, wake up at once!"

"What is the matter? What is it?"

"Ah! how can I explain? My dear young lady, the undertaker's men have
come to make arrangements for the ceremony."

Those in charge of the last rites had indeed arrived, and their heavy
tread could be heard in the hall and in the