the
countess, wrapped in a black domino and sitting on the lower step of the
platform in the Babylonian hall, where Valentino has since then given
his concerts, beheld Thaddeus, as Robert Macaire, threading the galop
with Malaga in the dress of a savage, her head garnished with plumes
like the horse of a hearse, and bounding through the crowd like a
will-o-the-wisp.

"Ah!" said Clementine to her husband, "you Poles have no honor at all!
I did believe in Thaddeus. He gave me his word that he would leave that
woman; he did not know that I should be here, seeing all unseen."

A few days later she requested Paz to dine with them. After dinner Adam
left them alone together, and Clementine reproved Paz and let him know
very plainly that she did not wish him to live in her house any longer.

"Yes, madame," said Paz, humbly, "you are right; I am a wretch; I did
give you my word. But you see how it is; I put off leaving Malaga till
after the carnival. Besides, that woman exerts an influence over me
which--"

"An influence!--a woman who ought to be turned out of Musard's by the
police for such dancing!"

"I agree to all that; I accept the condemnation and I'll leave your
house. But you know Adam. If I give up the management of your property
you must show energy yourself. I may have been to blame about Malaga,
but I have taken the whole charge of your affairs, managed your
servants, and looked after the very least details. I cannot leave you
until I see you prepared to continue my management. You have now
been married three years, and you are safe from the temptations to
extravagance which come with the honeymoon. I see that Parisian
women, and even titled ones, do manage both their fortunes and their
households. Well, as soon as I am certain not so much of your capacity
as of your perseverance I shall leave Paris."

"It is Thaddeus of Warsaw, and not that Circus Thaddeus who speaks now,"
said Clementine. "Go, and come back cured."

"Cured! never," said Paz, his eyes lowered and fixed on Clementine's
pretty feet. "You do not know, countess, what charm, what unexpected
piquancy of mind she has." Then, feeling his courage fail him, he added
hastily, "There is not a woman in society, with her mincing airs, that
is worth the honest nature of that young animal."

"At any rate, I wish nothing of the animal about me," said the countess,
with a glance like that of an angry viper.

After that evening Comte Paz showed Clementine