!" answered M. de Bois, with a mixture of embarrassment
and exultation.

"You knew it? How could you have known it?" asked Maurice, eagerly.

"I saw her car--ar--arriage at the door."

"_Her_ carriage? She has a carriage of her own, then?" inquired the
count.

"Yes, and the most superb horses in Washington."

"You knew, then, that she was here?" cried Maurice, with emotion; "you
knew it, and you never told us?"

"I knew it, but I was forbidden to tell you. I hoped you would meet; I
felt sure you would. I did not know how or when; but, from the moment
you put your foot in this city, I looked for this meeting. I was
strongly impelled to bring it about, but my promise withheld me."

"Of course, you could not break a promise; that explanation is quite
satisfactory," remarked Bertha. "I am sure you would have given us a
hint but for your promise."

"I almost gave one in spite of it. I found it harder to keep silent than
I used to find it to speak; and that was difficult enough."

"But have the goodness to unravel to us this grand mystery," demanded
the count. "Madeleine is married--married to Count Orlowski, the Russian
ambassador."

"A nobleman of position!" added the countess.

"How did this come about?" inquired the count.

M. de Bois looked stupefied.

"Who--who--said she was married?" he gasped out. "Why do you imagine
that she is mar--ar--arried?"

"She is _not_--_not_ married then? _Say she is not!_" broke in Maurice,
hanging upon the reply as though it were a sentence of life or death.

"No--no--not married at all--not in the least married."

Maurice did not answer, but the sound that issued from his lips almost
resembled the sob of hysteric passion.

"Tell us quickly all about her!" besought Bertha, impatiently.

"Yes, speak! speak!" said the countess, imperiously.

"Speak!" echoed the count.

"Gaston, my dear friend, pray speak,--speak quickly!" Maurice besought.

"I wi--is--ish I could! That's just what I wa--an--ant to do! But it's
not so easy, you bewil--il--ilder me so with questions. But the time has
come when you must know that she has the hon--on--onor--the honor--the
honor to be"--

"Go on, go on!" urged Maurice.

"I wish I could! It's not so easy to expla--plai--plain."

The rustling of a silk dress made him turn. The Marchioness de Fleury,
in the most captivating spring attire, stood before them.

"Ah! here is Madame de Fleury, and she will tell you herself better than
I ca