M. Wilkie, "it was fortunate that
I came--very fortunate; so she was going to run away!" Thereupon,
approaching a group of servants who were in close conference in the
hall, he demanded, in his most imperious manner: "Madame d'Argeles!"

The servants remembered the visitor perfectly; they now knew who
he really was, and they could not understand how he could have the
impudence and audacity to come there again so soon after the shameful
scene of the previous evening. "Madame is at home," replied one of the
men, in anything but a polite tone; "and I will go and see if she will
consent to see you. Wait here."

He went off, leaving M. Wilkie in the vestibule to settle his collar and
twirl his puny mustaches, with affected indifference; but in reality he
was far from comfortable. For the servants did not hesitate to stare
at him, and it was quite impossible not to read their contempt in their
glances. They even sneered audibly and pointed at him; and he heard five
or six epithets more expressive than elegant which could only have been
meant for himself. "The fools!" thought he, boiling with anger. "The
scoundrels! Ah! if I dared. If a gentleman like myself was allowed to
notice such blackguards, how I'd chastise them!"

But the valet who had gone to warn Madame d'Argeles soon reappeared
and put an end to his sufferings. "Madame will see you," said the man,
impudently. "Ah! if I were in her place----"

"Come, make haste," rejoined Wilkie, indignantly, and following the
servant, he was ushered into a room which had already been divested of
its hangings, curtains, and furniture. He here found Madame d'Argeles
engaged in packing a large trunk with household linen and sundry
articles of clothing.

By a sort of miracle the unfortunate woman had survived the terrible
shock which had at first threatened to have an immediately fatal
effect. Still she had none the less received her death-blow. It was
only necessary to look at her to be assured of that. She was so greatly
changed that when M. Wilkie's eyes first fell on her, he asked himself
if this were really the same person whom he had met on the previous
evening. Henceforth she would be an old woman. You would have taken her
for over fifty, so terrible had been the sufferings caused her by the
shameful conduct of her son. In this sad-eyed, haggard-faced woman, clad
in black, no one would have recognized the notorious Lia d'Argeles, who,
only the evening before, had driven rou