omewhat breathless and surprised. I
suppose that many Englishmen are like you, and suspect that they will
some day master the world. We have had visitors, among others Alphonse
Giraud, whom I believe you do not yet know. If contrasts are mutually
attractive, then you will like him. I wonder if you know, or suspect,
that he is more or less an acknowledged aspirant to Lucille's hand,
but--"

Madame de Clericy had run her pen through the last word, leaving it,
however, legible. And here she began a new subject, asking me, indeed,
to write and give her news of the Vicomte. I am no indoor man or
subtle analyst of a motive--much less of a woman's motive, if, indeed,
women are so often possessed of such, as some believe--but the
obliterated word and Madame de Clericy's subsequent embarkation on a
new subject made me pause while I deciphered her letter.

It had originally been arranged that the Vicomte should follow the
ladies to La Pauline, leaving me in Paris to attend to my duties, but
the sudden political crisis led to a delay in his departure. In truth,
I gathered from Madame's letter that he must have written to her
saying that the visit was at present impossible. Madame, in fact,
asked me to advise her by return of the state of the Vicomte's health,
and plainly told me that if business matters were worrying him she
would return to Paris without delay.

And if Madame returned she would bring Lucille with her, and thus put
an end to the aspirations of Alphonse Giraud, for the prosecution of
which the seclusion of La Pauline afforded excellent opportunity. I
had but to write a word to bring all this about. Did Madame de Clericy
know all that she placed within my power? Did she know, and yet place
it there purposely? Who can tell? I remembered Lucille's
coldness--her departure without one word of explanation. I recollected
that the twenty million francs at that moment in the Hotel Clericy
would, in due course, be part of Alphonse Giraud's fortune. I was
mindful, lastly, that in England we are taught to ride straight, and I
sat down and wrote to Madame that her husband was in good health, and
that I quite hoped to see him depart in a few days for La Pauline. I
will not deny that the letter went into the post-box followed by a
curse.

We may, however, write letters and post them. We may--if we be great
men--indite despatches and give them into the hands of trusty
messengers, and a little twirl of Fortune's wheel will send