those disgraceful scandals which render a marriage
inevitable. At the very same time he was pursuing two other rich young
girls, persuaded that one of the three would certainly become his
victim.

"I was the first to yield. One of those unforeseen events which are
the work of Providence, was destined to decide my fate. Several times,
already, in compliance with Arthur's urgent entreaties, I had met him at
night time in a little pavilion in our garden. This pavilion contained
a billiard-room and a spacious gallery in which my brother practised
fencing and pistol shooting with his masters and friends. There, thanks
to the liberty I enjoyed, we thought ourselves perfectly secure from
observation, and we were imprudent enough to light the candles. One
night when I had just joined Arthur in the pavilion, I thought I heard
the sound of hoarse, heavy breathing behind me. I turned round in a
fright and saw my brother standing on the threshold. Oh! then I realized
how guilty I had been! I felt that one or the other of these two men--my
lover or my brother--would not leave that room alive.

"I tried to speak, to throw myself between them, but I found I could
neither speak nor move; it was as if I had been turned to stone. Nor did
they exchange a word at first. But at last my brother drew two swords
from their scabbards, and throwing one at Arthur's feet, exclaimed: 'I
have no wish to assassinate you. Defend yourself, and save your life if
you can!' And as Arthur hesitated, and seemed to be trying to gain time
instead of picking up the weapon that was lying on the floor near him,
my brother struck him in the face with the flat side of his sword, and
cried: 'Now will you fight, you coward! In an instant it was all over.
Arthur caught up the sword, and springing upon my brother, disarmed him,
and wounded him in the breast. I saw this. I saw the blood spurt out
upon my lover's hands. I saw my brother stagger, beat the air wildly
with his hands, and fall apparently lifeless to the floor. Then I, too,
lost consciousness and fell!"

Any one who had seen Madame d'Argeles as she stood there recoiling in
horror, with her features contracted, and her eyes dilated, would
have realized that by strength of will she had dispelled the mists
enshrouding the past, and distinctly beheld the scene she was
describing. She seemed to experience anew the same agony of terror she
had felt twenty years before; and this lent such poignant intensity to