s, had defrauded him of forty thousand
francs in glittering gold. The other, the viscount, had suddenly sprung
up out of the ground, and carried off from under his very nose that
magnificent prize, the Chalusse inheritance, which he had considered as
good as won. And he had not only been defrauded and swindled--such
were his own expressions--but he had been tricked, deceived, duped, and
outwitted, and by whom? By people who did not make it their profession
to be shrewd, like he did himself. Just fancy, his business was to
outwit others, and a couple of mere amateurs had outgeneraled him. He
had not only suffered in pocket, he had been humiliated as well, and so
he indulged in threats of such terrible import.

However, at the very moment when he was dreaming of wreaking vengeance
on the Marquis de Valorsay and the Viscount de Coralth, his housekeeper,
austere Madame Dodelin, handed him Mademoiselle Marguerite's letter.
He read it with intense astonishment, rubbing his eyes as if to assure
himself that he were really awake. "Tuesday," he repeated, "the day
after to-morrow--at your house--between three and four o'clock--I must
speak with you."

His manner was so strange, and his usually impassive face so disturbed
by conflicting feelings, that Madame Dodelin's curiosity overcame her
prudence, and she remained standing in front of him with open mouth,
staring with all her eyes and listening with all her ears. He perceived
this, and angrily exclaimed: "What are you doing here? You are watching
me, I do believe. Get back to your kitchen, or----"

She fled in alarm, and he then entered his private office. His heart
was leaping with joy, and he laughed wickedly at the hope of a speedy
revenge. "She's on the scent," he muttered; "and she has luck in
her favor. She has chanced to apply to me on the very day that I had
resolved to defend and rehabilitate her lover, the honest fool who
allowed himself to be dishonored by those unscrupulous blackguards. Just
as I was thinking of going in search of her, she comes to me. As I was
about to write to her, she writes to me. Who can deny the existence
of Providence after this?" Like many other people, M. Fortunat piously
believed in Providence when things went to his liking, but it is sad to
add that in the contrary case he denied its existence. "If she has any
courage," he resumed, "and she seems to have plenty of it, Valorsay
and Coralth will be in a tight place soon. And if it takes t