s mitre, to the cardinal's
hat; good-bye to the velvet arm-chair in the House of
Peers."

They read the third telegram together. It contained these words:

"Explosion in the Bondavara colliery. The whole mine
is on fire."

"This is indeed a blow," said Felix, as he let the telegram fall from
his hand. The three telegrams had come like three flashes of
lightning. The last was the worst.

When the news reached Prince Waldemar he would let the bears loose
with a vengeance. Something must be done to avert the imminent
danger--but what?

If there was only time allowed to float the papal loan such small
things as the Bondavara shares and the burning of mines would be of
little consequence. But could the enemy be reduced to silence?

It was settled that the abbe should without delay repair to Eveline,
and that Kaulmann should speak to Prince Waldemar.

The beaming faces of the two men now wore a sombre air. They had only
one card to play--the smile of a woman was their only salvation.

CHAPTER XXVIII

TWO CHILDREN

Eveline had arrived in Paris at a very important moment. Two great
changes had been made in the world of fashion: the Empress Eugenie had
decreed that the crinoline should be laid aside, and Cardinal Chigi,
the papal nuncio, had pronounced that dresses closed to the throat
should be worn at receptions. Piety had become the rage. It was
considered good taste to go to church and to wait for the sermon.

Piety being, therefore, the fashion, no better moment could have been
chosen by Kaulmann for floating the papal loan. He was well pleased to
find that Eveline was as eager in the pursuit of piety as any of her
fair sisters, the truth being that it harmonized with the poor child's
frame of mind. A few days after her arrival in Paris her cripple
brother had died. A celebrated surgeon had performed an operation
which had put him out of pain forever. Eveline grieved over her loss;
now she felt alone in the world, she had no one to love, no one to
live for. She kept the boy's useless crutches in her room, one on each
side of her dressing-table, and twice a week she went to the
church-yard and put fresh flowers on the little grave. The penitential
fashion just suited her. She preferred to sing Mozart and Handel in
the church than Verdi at the opera.

One day she conceived the idea that she would have a sacred concert
in her own drawing-room; the price of the tickets should be h