was not dead. Perhaps he had forgotten her. He had sworn to
return a rich man before the lapse of three years. Would he ever return?

There was a risk in his returning under any circumstances. His
disappearance had not ended the terrible affair of Tarascon. He was
supposed to be dead; but as there was no positive proof of his death,
and his body could not be found, the law was compelled to yield to the
clamor of public opinion.

The case was brought before the assize court; and, in default of
appearance, Gaston de Clameran was sentenced to several years of close
confinement.

As to Louis de Clameran, no one knew positively what had become of
him. Some people said he was leading a life of reckless extravagance in
Paris.

Informed of these facts by her faithful Mihonne, Valentine became
more gloomy and hopeless than ever. Vainly did she question the dreary
future; no ray appeared upon the dark horizon of her life.

Her elasticity was gone; and she had finally reached that state of
passive resignation peculiar to people who are oppressed and cowed at
home.

In this miserable way, passed four years since the fatal evening when
Gaston left her.

Mme. de la Verberie had spent these years in constant discomfort. Seeing
that she could not live upon her income, and having too much pride to
sell her land, which was so badly managed that it only brought her in
two per cent, she mortgaged her estate in order to raise money only to
be spent as soon as borrowed.

In such matters, it is the first step that costs; and, after having once
commenced to live upon her capital, the countess made rapid strides in
extravagance, saying to herself, "After me, the deluge!" Very much as
her neighbor, the late Marquis of Clameran, had managed his affairs, she
was now conducting hers, having but one object in view--her own comfort
and pleasure.

She made frequent visits to the neighboring towns of Nimes and Avignon;
she sent to Paris for the most elegant toilets, and entertained a great
deal of company. All the luxury that she had hoped to obtain by the
acquisition of a rich son-in-law, she determined to give herself,
utterly regardless of the fact that she was reducing her child to
beggary. Great sorrows require consolation!

The summer that she returned from London, she did not hesitate to
indulge her fancy for a horse; it was rather old, to be sure, but, when
harnessed to a second-hand carriage bought on credit at Beaucaire, made
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