She put the ring on her finger. Martial, confident of coming happiness,
was about to put his hand round her waist, but she suddenly rose, and
said in a clear voice, without any agitation:

"I accept the diamond, monsieur, with the less scruple because it
belongs to me."

The Baron was speechless.

"Monsieur de Soulanges took it lately from my dressing-table, and told
me he had lost it."

"You are mistaken, madame," said Martial, nettled. "It was given me by
Madame de Vaudremont."

"Precisely so," she said with a smile. "My husband borrowed this ring of
me, he gave it to her, she made it a present to you; my ring has made a
little journey, that is all. This ring will perhaps tell me all I do not
know, and teach me the secret of always pleasing.--Monsieur," she went
on, "if it had not been my own, you may be sure I should not have risked
paying so dear for it; for a young woman, it is said, is in danger with
you. But, you see," and she touched a spring within the ring, "here is
M. de Soulanges' hair."

She fled into the crowded rooms so swiftly, that it seemed useless to
try to follow her; besides, Martial, utterly confounded, was in no mood
to carry the adventure further. The Countess' laugh found an echo in the
boudoir, where the young coxcomb now perceived, between two shrubs, the
Colonel and Madame de Vaudremont, both laughing heartily.

"Will you have my horse, to ride after your prize?" said the Colonel.

The Baron took the banter poured upon him by Madame de Vaudremont and
Montcornet with a good grace, which secured their silence as to the
events of the evening, when his friend exchanged his charger for a rich
and pretty young wife.

As the Comtesse de Soulanges drove across Paris from the Chausee d'Antin
to the Faubourg Saint-Germain, where she lived, her soul was prey to
many alarms. Before leaving the Hotel Gondreville she went through all
the rooms, but found neither her aunt nor her husband, who had gone away
without her. Frightful suspicions then tortured her ingenuous mind. A
silent witness of her husbands' torments since the day when Madame de
Vaudremont had chained him to her car, she had confidently hoped that
repentance would ere long restore her husband to her. It was with
unspeakable repugnance that she had consented to the scheme plotted by
her aunt, Madame de Lansac, and at this moment she feared she had made a
mistake.

The evening's experience had saddened her innocent soul. Alarmed