man who his mother really was, he hesitated.

"Go on," insisted M. Wilkie.

"Well--when your mother was a young girl, about twenty, she fled from
her paternal home with a man she loved. Forsaken afterward, she found
herself in the depths of poverty. She was obliged to live. You
were starving. So she changed her name, and now she is known as Lia
d'Argeles."

M. Wilkie sprang to his feet. "Lia d'Argeles!" he exclaimed. Then, with
a burst of laughter, he added: "Nevertheless, I think it a piece of
grand good luck!"

VI.

"This man carries away your secret; you are lost." A sinister voice
whispered these words in Madame Lia d'Argeles's heart when M. Isidore
Fortunat, after being rudely dismissed, closed the door of her
drawing-room behind him. This man had addressed her by the ancient and
illustrious name of Chalusse which she had not heard for twenty years,
and which she had forbidden her own lips to pronounce. This man knew
that she, Lia d'Argeles, was really a Durtal de Chalusse.

This frightful certainty overwhelmed her. It is true this man Fortunat
had declared that his visit was entirely disinterested. He had pretended
that his regard for the Chalusse family, and the compassion aroused in
his heart by the unfortunate plight of Mademoiselle Marguerite, were
the only motives that has influenced him in taking this step. However,
Madame d'Argeles's experience in life had left her but limited faith
in apparent or pretended disinterestedness. This is a practical age;
chivalrous sentiments are expensive--as she had learned conclusively.
"If the man came here," she murmured, "it was only because he thought
he might derive some benefit from the prosecution of my claim to my
poor brother's estate. In refusing to listen to his entreaties, I have
deprived him of this expected profit and so I have made him my enemy.
Ah! I was foolish to send him away like that! I ought to have pretended
to listen--I ought to have bound him by all sorts of promises."

She suddenly paused. It occurred to her that M. Fortunat could not have
gone very far; so that, if she sent for him to come back, she might
perhaps be able to repair her blunder. Without losing a second, she
rushed downstairs, and ordered her concierge and a servant to run after
the gentleman who had just left the house, and ask him to return; to
tell him that she had reflected, and wished to speak to him again. They
rushed out in pursuit, and she remained in the court