er eyes from reading
the dreadful secrets contained in that paper.

Presently, however, the voice of Madame de l'Estorade, speaking to some
one at the door of the salon, reassured him as to the success of his
trick, and a moment later she entered the study accompanied by Monsieur
Octave de Camps. Going forward to receive his visitor, he was able
to see through the half-opened door the place where he had thrown the
letter. Not only had it disappeared, but he detected a movement which
assured him that Madame de l'Estorade had tucked it away in that part
of her gown where Louis XIV. did not dare to search for the secrets of
Mademoiselle d'Hautefort.

"I have come, my dear friend," said Monsieur de Camps, "to get you to go
with me to Rastignac's, as agreed on last night."

"Very good," said the peer, putting away his papers with a feverish
haste that plainly indicated he was not in his usual state of mind.

"Don't you feel well?" asked Madame de l'Estorade, who knew her husband
by heart too well not to be struck by the singular stupefaction of his
manner, while at the same time, looking in his face, she saw the signs
of internal convulsion.

"True," said Monsieur de Camps, "you certainly do not look so well as
usual. If you prefer it, we will put off this visit."

"No, not at all," replied Monsieur de l'Estorade. "I have tired myself
with this work, and I need the air. But what was the matter with Rene?"
he inquired of his wife, whose attention he felt was unpleasantly fixed
upon him. "What made him cry like that?"

"Oh, a mere nothing!" she replied, not relaxing her attention.

"Well, my dear fellow," said the peer, trying to take an easy tone,
"just let me change my coat and I'll be with you."

When the countess was alone with Monsieur de Camps, she said, rather
anxiously,--

"Don't you think Monsieur de l'Estorade seems very much upset?"

"Yes; as I said just now, he does not look like himself. But the
explanation he gave seems sufficient. This office life is bad for the
health. I have never been as well as since I am actively engaged about
my iron-works."

"Yes, certainly," said Madame de l'Estorade, with a heavy sigh; "he
ought to have a more active life. It seems plain that there is something
amiss with his liver."

"What! because he is so yellow? He has been so ever since I have known
him."

"Oh, monsieur, I can't be mistaken! There is something seriously the
matter with him; and if you would kindly