of gossips began to wag.

The Fongereues felt that their doom was sealed when they knew that
Irene's millions were forever lost to them. Then this unhappy pair began
to quarrel. To Magdalena's violent reproaches Fongereues answered by
violent recriminations. Was it not her senseless indulgence that had
caused the Vicomte to become the depraved and worthless person upon whom
every one now turned a cold shoulder? If they were ruined, was it not
because of the mad extravagance of mother and son?

And Magdalena replied:

"If I have been weak, was it not still more your duty to be strong? Who
is the proper guide for a young man if not his father? You have been
faithless to your duties, and, moreover, has he a vice which is not
yours?"

Fongereues foamed with rage, and before he could speak his wife had the
audacity to say:

"You are choked by the blood of your brother!"

She thus reproached him for a crime that he had committed at her
instigation. A moment more and this great lord would have demeaned
himself to brutalities worthy of a lacquey, but with a look of contempt
Magdalena swept past him and left the room. And now, crushed into a
large arm-chair, the Marquis sat with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Count Fernando de Vellebri wishes to see you," a servant knocked at the
door to say.

"One moment!" answered the Marquis.

He hurried to his dressing room, bathed his face in cold water and
hastily brushed his fast whitening hair. He took his seat at his desk,
which was covered with papers.

"Show Monsieur de Vellebri up," he said.

He shuddered as he spoke, for he had learned through Cyprien that this
Fernando belonged to the society of the Jesuits. The young man entered.

He was no longer the obsequious person with the stereotyped smile, who
had done the will of the Vicomte de Talizac. Dressed in black, a long
single-breasted coat, Fernando was the type of the Jesuits who pervaded
French society. His dark hair rendered his pallor more remarkable. His
half closed eyes were brilliant in spite of their heavy lids.

Fongereues divined a contest. What new struggle would he be compelled
to undergo? He pointed to a chair, but the Italian bowed and remained
standing.

"You wished to see me," said the Marquis, "and I am at your service. But
what is this costume? I was not aware that you belonged to any religious
society, officially, at least."

"As to my claims to this dress," answered De Vellebri, coldly, "I a