of my godfather?"

He was well, she told him, and still profoundly indignant with
Andre-Louis for his defection, whilst secretly concerned on his behalf.

"I shall write to him to-day that I have seen you."

"Do so. Tell him that I am well and prospering. But say no more. Do not
tell him what I am doing. He has his prejudices too. Besides, it might
not be prudent. And now the question I have been burning to ask ever
since I entered your carriage. Why are you in Nantes, Aline?"

"I am on a visit to my aunt, Mme. de Sautron. It was with her that I
came to the play yesterday. We have been dull at the chateau; but
it will be different now. Madame my aunt is receiving several guests
to-day. M. de La Tour d'Azyr is to be one of them."

Andre-Louis frowned and sighed. "Did you ever hear, Aline, how poor
Philippe de Vilmorin came by his end?"

"Yes; I was told, first by my uncle; then by M. de La Tour d'Azyr,
himself."

"Did not that help you to decide this marriage question?"

"How could it? You forget that I am but a woman. You don't expect me to
judge between men in matters such as these?"

"Why not? You are well able to do so. The more since you have heard two
sides. For my godfather would tell you the truth. If you cannot judge,
it is that you do not wish to judge." His tone became harsh. "Wilfully
you close your eyes to justice that might check the course of your
unhealthy, unnatural ambition."

"Excellent!" she exclaimed, and considered him with amusement and
something else. "Do you know that you are almost droll? You rise
unblushing from the dregs of life in which I find you, and shake off the
arm of that theatre girl, to come and preach to me."

"If these were the dregs of life I might still speak from them to
counsel you out of my respect and devotion, Aline." He was very, stiff
and stern. "But they are not the dregs of life. Honour and virtue are
possible to a theatre girl; they are impossible to a lady who sells
herself to gratify ambition; who for position, riches, and a great title
barters herself in marriage."

She looked at him breathlessly. Anger turned her pale. She reached for
the cord.

"I think I had better let you alight so that you may go back to practise
virtue and honour with your theatre wench."

"You shall not speak so of her, Aline."

"Faith, now we are to have heat on her behalf. You think I am too
delicate? You think I should speak of her as a..."

"If you must speak of her at a