receive her
guests. From among all her dresses, she chose the same dark robe she had
worn on the night when Pascal Ferailleur was ruined at her house; and
as she was even paler than usual, she tried to conceal the fact by a
prodigal use of rouge. At ten o'clock, when the first arrivals entered
the brilliantly lighted rooms, they found her seated as usual on the
sofa, near the fire, with the same eternal, unchangeable smile upon her
lips. There were at least forty persons in the room, and the gambling
had become quite animated when the baron entered. Madame d'Argeles read
in his eyes that he was the bearer of good news. "Everything is going
on well," he whispered, as he shook hands with her. "I have seen M.
Ferailleur--I wouldn't give ten sous for Valorsay's and Coralth's
chances."

This intelligence revived Madame d'Argeles's drooping spirits, and she
received M. de Coralth with perfect composure when he came to pay his
respects to her soon afterward. For he had the impudence to come, in
order to dispel any suspicions that might have been aroused anent his
complicity in the card-cheating affair. The hostess's calmness amazed
him. Was she still ignorant of her brother's death and the complications
arising from it, or was she only acting a part? He was so anxious and
undecided, that instead of mingling with the groups of talkers, he
at once took a seat at the card-table, whence he could watch the poor
woman's every movement.

Both rooms were full, and almost everybody was engaged in play, when,
shortly after midnight, a servant entered the room, whispered a few
words in his mistress's ear, and handed her a card. She took it, glanced
at it, and uttered so harsh, so terrible, so heart-broken a cry, that
several of the guests sprang to their feet. "What is it? What is it?"
they asked. She tried to reply, but could not. Her lips parted, she
opened her mouth, but no sound came forth. She turned ghastly white
under her rouge, and a wild, unnatural light gleamed in her eyes. One
curious guest, without a thought of harm, tried to take the card, which
she still held in her clinched hand; but she repulsed him with such an
imperious gesture that he recoiled in terror. "What is it? What is the
matter with her?" was the astonished query on every side.

At last, with a terrible effort, she managed to reply, "Nothing." And
then, after clinging for a moment to the mantel-shelf, in order to
steady herself, she tottered out of the room.