rious saloon in which the illustrious ruler of Fashion
served such of his clients as had a predilection for absinthe or
madeira. On leaving the place, and before entering the carriage again,
Madame de Fondege turned to Marguerite and inquired: "Where shall we go
now? I have given the servants an 'outing' on account of the workmen,
and we cannot breakfast at home. Why can't we go to a restaurant, we
two? Many of the most distinguished ladies are in the habit of doing
so. You will see how people will look at us! I am sure it will amuse you
immensely."

"Ah! madame, you forget that it is not a fortnight since the count's
death!"

Madame de Fondege was about to make an impatient reply, but she mastered
the impulse, and in a tone of hypocritical compassion, exclaimed: "Poor
child! poor, dear child! that's true. I had forgotten. Well, such being
the case, we'll go and ask Baroness Trigault to give us our breakfast.
You will see a lovely woman." And addressing the coachman she instructed
him to drive to the Trigault mansion in the Rue de la Ville l'Eveque.

When Madame de Fondege's brougham drew up before the door, the baron was
standing in the courtyard with a cigar between his teeth, examining a
pair of horses which had been sent him on approbation. He did not like
his wife's friend, and he usually avoided her. But precisely because he
was acquainted with the General's crime and Pascal's plans, he thought
it politic to seem amiable. So, on recognizing Madame de Fondege through
the carriage window, he hastened forward with outstretched hand to
assist her in alighting. "Did you come to take breakfast with us?" he
asked. "That would be a most delightful----"

The remainder of the sentence died unuttered upon his lips. His face
became crimson, and the cigar he was holding slipped from his fingers.
He had just perceived Mademoiselle Marguerite, and his consternation was
so apparent that Madame de Fondege could not fail to remark it; however,
she attributed it to the girl's remarkable beauty. "This is Mademoiselle
de Chalusse, my dear baron," said she, "the daughter of the noble and
esteemed friend whom we so bitterly lament."

Ah! it was not necessary to tell the baron who this young girl was;
he knew it only too well. He was not overcome for long; a thought of
vengeance speedily flashed through his mind. It seemed to him that
Providence itself offered him the means of putting an end to an
intolerable situation. Regaining hi