bliged to decide at once, and to
sail that same morning for fear of losing an opportunity which could not
occur again. It concluded with expressions of the liveliest gratitude and
regret.

Camors could not reach his secretary to strangle him; so he resolved to
pay him. He not only sent him all arrears of salary, but a large sum in
addition as a testimonial of his sympathy and good wishes.

This, however, was a simple precaution; for the Count apprehended nothing
more from the venomous reptile so far beneath him, after he had once
shaken it off. Seeing him deprived of the only weapon he could use
against him, he felt safe. Besides, he had lost the only interest he
could desire to subserve, for he knew M. Vautrot had done him the
compliment of courting his Wife.

And he really esteemed him a little less low, after discovering this
gentlemanly taste!

CHAPTER XVIII

ONE GLEAM OF HOPE

It required on the part of M. de Camors, this morning, an exertion of all
his courage to perform his duty as a gentleman in going to receive Madame
de Tecle at the station. But courage had been for some time past his sole
remaining virtue; and this at least he sought never to lose. He received,
then, most gracefully his mother-in-law, robed in her mourning attire.
She was surprised at not seeing her daughter with him. He informed her
that she had been a little indisposed since the preceding evening.
Notwithstanding the precautions he took in his language and by his smile,
he could not prevent Madame de Tecle from feeling a lively alarm.

He did not pretend, however, entirely to reassure her. Under his reserved
and measured replies, she felt the presentiment of some disaster. After
first pressing him with many questions, she kept silent during the rest
of the drive.

The young Countess, to spare her mother the first shock, had quitted her
bed; and the poor child had even put a little rouge on her pale cheeks.
M. de Camors himself opened for Madame de Tecle the door of her
daughter's chamber, and then withdrew.

The young woman raised herself with difficulty from her couch, and her
mother took her in her arms.

All that passed between them at first was a silent interchange of mutual
caresses. Then the mother seated herself near her daughter, drew her head
on her bosom, and looked into the depths of her eyes.

"What is the matter?" she said, sadly.

"Oh, nothing--nothing hopeless! only you must love your little Mary more
th