together on the breast of the amorous Queen of Italian
seas. But even in that moment of bliss, such as angels know, some one
appeared in the garden walk. It was Chesnel! Alas! the sound of his
tread on the gravel might have been the sound of the sands running from
Death's hour-glass to be trodden under his unshod feet. The sound,
the sight of a dreadful hopelessness in Chesnel's face, gave her that
painful shock which follows a sudden recall of the senses when the soul
has sent them forth into the world of dreams.

"What is it?" she cried, as if some stab had pierced to her heart.

"All is lost!" said Chesnel. "M. le Comte will bring dishonor upon
the house if we do not set it in order." He held out the bills, and
described the agony of the last few days in a few simple but vigorous
and touching words.

"He is deceiving us! The miserable boy!" cried Mlle. Armande, her heart
swelling as the blood surged back to it in heavy throbs.

"Let us both say mea culpa, mademoiselle," the old lawyer said stoutly;
"we have always allowed him to have his own way; he needed stern
guidance; he could not have it from you with your inexperience of life;
nor from me, for he would not listen to me. He has had no mother."

"Fate sometimes deals terribly with a noble house in decay," said Mlle.
Armande, with tears in her eyes.

The Marquis came up as she spoke. He had been walking up and down
the garden while he read the letter sent by his son after his return.
Victurnien gave his itinerary from an aristocrat's point of view;
telling how he had been welcomed by the greatest Italian families of
Genoa, Turin, Milan, Florence, Venice, Rome, and Naples. This flattering
reception he owed to his name, he said, and partly, perhaps, to the
Duchess as well. In short, he had made his appearance magnificently, and
as befitted a d'Esgrignon.

"Have you been at your old tricks, Chesnel?" asked the Marquis.

Mlle. Armande made Chesnel an eager sign, dreadful to see. They
understood each other. The poor father, the flower of feudal honor,
must die with all his illusions. A compact of silence and devotion was
ratified between the two noble hearts by a simple inclination of the
head.

"Ah! Chesnel, it was not exactly in this way that the d'Esgrignons went
into Italy at the end of the fourteenth century, when Marshal Trivulzio,
in the service of the King of France, served under a d'Esgrignon, who
had a Bayard too under his orders. Other times, othe