ow that M. de Chalusse's whole life was haunted by
the thought of the husband he had wronged. He felt a presentiment that
he would die by this man's hand. He saw danger on every side. If he went
out alone in the evening, which was an exceedingly rare occurrence, he
turned the street corners with infinite caution; it seemed to him that
he could always see the gleam of a poniard or a pistol in the shade.
I should never have believed in this constant terror on the part of a
really brave man, if he had not confessed it to me with his own lips.
Ten or twelve years passed before he dared to make the slightest
attempt to find his daughter, so much did he fear to arouse his enemy's
attention. It was not until he had discovered that the husband had
become discouraged and had discontinued his search, that the count began
his. It was a long and arduous one, but at last it succeeded, thanks to
the assistance of a clever scoundrel named Fortunat."

The baron with difficulty repressed a movement of eager curiosity, and
remarked: "What a peculiar name!"

"And his first name is Isidore. Ah! he's a smooth-tongued scoundrel, a
rascal of the most dangerous kind, who richly deserves to be in jail.
How it is that he is allowed to prosecute his dishonorable calling I
can't understand; but it is none the less true that he does follow it,
and without the slightest attempt at concealment, at an office he has on
the Place de la Bourse."

This name and address were engraved upon the baron's memory, never to be
effaced.

"However," resumed M. de Valorsay, "the poor count was fated to have no
peace. The husband had scarcely ceased to torment him, he had scarcely
begun to breathe freely, when the wife attacked him in her turn. She
must have been one of those vile and despicable women who make a man
hate the entire sex. Pretending that the count had turned her from
the path of duty, and destroyed her life and happiness, she lost no
opportunity of tormenting him. She would not allow M. de Chalusse to
keep the child with him, nor would she consent to his adopting the girl.
She declared it an act of imprudence, which would surely set her husband
upon the track, sooner or later. And when the count announced his
intention of legally adopting the child, in spite of her protests, she
declared that, rather than allow it, she would confess everything to her
husband."

"The count was a patient man," sneered the baron.

"Not so patient as you may suppose