n the street did
the wily Mascarin breathe freely.

"Well, what do you say, now?" asked he.

Paul's vanity had been so deeply wounded, and the effort that he had
made to restrain himself so powerful, that he could only reply by a
gasp.

"He felt it more than I thought he would," said Mascarin to himself.
"The fresh air will revive him."

Paul's legs bent under him, and he staggered so that Mascarin led him
into a little _cafe_ hard by, and ordered a glass of cognac, and in a
short time Paul was himself once again.

"You are better now," observed Mascarin; and then, believing it would be
best to finish his work, he added, "A quarter of an hour ago I promised
that I would ask you to settle what our intentions were to be regarding
M. de Gandelu."

"That is enough," broke in Paul, violently.

Mascarin put on his most benevolent smile.

"You see," remarked he, "how circumstances change ideas. Now you are
getting quite reasonable."

"Yes, I am reasonable enough now; that is, that I mean to be wealthy.
You have no need to urge me on any more. I am willing to do whatever you
desire, for I will never again endure degradation like that I have gone
through to-day."

"You have let temper get the better of you," returned Mascarin, with a
shrug of his shoulders.

"My anger may pass over, but my determination will remain as strong as
ever."

"Do not decide without thinking the matter well over," answered the
agent. "To-day you are your own master; but if you give yourself up to
me, you must resign your dearly loved liberty."

"I am prepared for all."

Victory had inclined to the side of Mascarin, and he was proportionally
jubilant.

"Good," said he. "Then Dr. Hortebise shall introduce you to Martin
Rigal, the father of Mademoiselle Flavia, and one week after your
marriage I will give you a duke's coronet to put on the panels of your
carriage."

CHAPTER XII.

A STARTLING REVELATION.

When Sabine de Mussidan told her lover that she would appeal to the
generosity of M. de Breulh-Faverlay, she had not calculated on the
necessity she would have for endurance, but had rather listened to the
dictates of her heart; and this fact came the more strongly before her,
when in the solitude of her own chamber, she inquired of herself how she
was to carry out her promise. It seemed to her very terrible to have to
lay bare the secrets of her soul to any one, but the more so to M. de
Breulh-Faverlay, who had asked for her