"But how can I help you?"

"You can go and make inquiries at the house."

"Reflect; yesterday I wrote to the Count, and broke off a marriage,
the preliminaries of which had been completely settled; and within
twenty-four hours to send and inquire after his daughter's health would
be to be guilty of an act of inexcusable insolence; for it would look
as if I fancied that Mademoiselle de Mussidan had been struck down by my
rupture of the engagement."

"You are right," murmured Andre dejectedly.

"But," continued De Breulh, after a moment's reflection, "I have a
distant relative, a lady who is also a connection of the Mussidan
family, the Viscountess de Bois Arden, and she will be glad to be of
service to me. She is young and giddy, but as true as steel. Come with
me to her; my carriage is ready."

The footman were surprised at seeing their master on such terms of
intimacy with the shabbily dressed young man, but ventured, of course,
on no remarks.

Not a word was exchanged during the brief drive to Madame de Bois
Arden's house.

"Wait for me," exclaimed De Breulh, springing from the vehicle as soon
as it drew up; "I will be back directly."

Madame de Bois Arden is justly called one of the handsomest women in
Paris. Very fair, with masses of black hair, and a complexion to which
art has united itself to the gifts of nature, she is a woman who has
been everywhere, knows everything, talks incessantly, and generally very
well. She spends forty thousand francs per annum on dress. She is always
committing all sorts of imprudent acts, and scandal is ever busy with
her name. Half a dozen of the opposite sex have been talked of in
connection with her, while in reality she is a true and faithful wife,
for, in spite of all her frivolity, she adores her husband, and is
in great awe of him. Such was the character of the lady into whose
apartment M. de Breulh was introduced. Madame de Bois Arden was engaged
in admiring a very pretty fancy costume of the reign of Louis XV., one
of Van Klopen's masterpieces, when M. de Breulh was announced, which she
was going to wear, on her return from the opera, at a masquerade ball at
the Austrian Ambassador's. Madame de Bois Arden greeted her visitor with
effusion, for they had been acquaintances from childhood, and always
addressed each other by their Christian names.

"What, you here at this hour, Gontran!" said the lady. "Is it a vision,
or only a miracle?" But the smile died away upon