ow all. Learn,
M. de Terville, that, finding a total absence of sympathy between myself
and your charming niece, and feeling that I could in no way insure her
happiness, I have determined to ask you to receive, instead of my own,
the addresses of my noble friend, M. Raoul de Montalvan."

"The proposition, Monsieur, is scandalous. I refuse to entertain it. My
niece would never listen to it."

"You are wrong, Monsieur; Mlle. de Terville joins us in this request."

"Impossible. Am I to understand, Monsieur," said the Count, addressing
De Montalvan, "that my niece has indicated a preference for you over
this gentleman?"

"I hardly dare to avow it, Monsieur, but--"

"Enough!" interposed the Count, turning with rage upon De Berniers. "And
as for you, Monsieur, your conduct is nothing better than an insult to
me."

"Saperlotte!" said De Berniers to himself, "but he acts better than
Cousin Charles."

"I will deal with you presently, Monsieur," continued the Count. "M. de
Montalvan, you love my niece?"

"Devotedly," said De Montalvan.

"O, frantically!" cried De Berniers.

The Count cast a withering glance upon the unfortunate plotter. "It is
sufficient," he said; "the contract shall be drawn as you desire, if
only to punish this imbecile. But I have no disposition to control my
niece's wishes. She shall have perfect liberty to sign, or not, as she
chooses."

"That is all we ask," said De Berniers, essaying a comical grimace,
which tempted M. de Terville to order his ejection by the domestics. In
fact, he suddenly did summon a servant, but, after a moment's
reflection, merely directed him to notify Mlle. Virginie that her
attendance was requested.

Three persons awaited her appearance with vivid emotions. Raoul's hope
was higher than his expectation, and, notwithstanding his ten years of
exposure to every kind of mortal peril, he now felt for the first time
the physical panic of fear. M. de Terville was not less curious than
angry; and he was by no means indisposed to see his niece complete De
Berniers's humiliation by accepting the new rival. As for De Berniers
himself, he was revelling in all the ecstasies of satisfied revenge, and
could hardly restrain his exultation long enough to witness the _coup de
grace_.

Of course, Virginie signed without hesitation. The fate to which she
trusted had been as kind as she could wish. As her pen left the
parchment, a remarkable scene ensued. De Berniers actually laughed