m in long strides. "I know very well
that in all circumstances bachelors should triumph over husbands, but
that does not prevent my conscience from smiting me. You know that I
saved Bergenheim's life?"

"Rest assured that he runs no very great danger at present. Nothing will
result from this step save the little enjoyment I shall take in annoying
the cruel creature who defied me today. Is it agreed?"

"Since you insist upon it. But then, when our visit is ended, shall we go
to work at our drama or upon 'The Chaste Suzannah' opera in three acts?
For, really, you neglected art terribly for the sake of your love
affairs."

"The Chaste Suzannah or the whole Sacred History we shall put into
vaudeville, if you exact it. Until to-morrow, then."

"Until to-morrow."

CHAPTER VIII

A LOVER'S RUSE

It was three o'clock in the afternoon; the drawing-room of the Chateau de
Bergenheim presented its usual aspect and occupants. The fire on the
hearth, lighted during the morning, was slowly dying, and a beautiful
autumn sun threw its rays upon the floor through the half-opened windows.
Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, stretched on the couch before the fireplace
with Constance at her feet, was reading, according to her habit, the
newspapers which had just arrived. Madame de Bergenheim seemed very
busily occupied with a piece of tapestry in her lap; but the slow manner
in which her needle moved, and the singular mistakes she made, showed
that her mind was far away from the flowers she was working. She had just
finished a beautiful dark lily, which contrasted strangely with its
neighbors, when a servant entered.

"Madame," said he, "there is a person here inquiring for Monsieur le
Baron de Bergenheim."

"Is Monsieur de Bergenheim not at home?" asked Mademoiselle de
Corandeuil.

"Monsieur has gone to ride with Mademoiselle Aline."

"Who is this person?"

"It is a gentleman; but I did not ask his name."

"Let him enter."

Clemence arose at the servant's first words and threw her work upon a
chair, making a movement as if to leave the room; but after a moment's
reflection, she resumed her seat and her work, apparently indifferent as
to who might enter.

"Monsieur de Marillac," announced the lackey, as he opened the door a
second time.

Madame de Bergenheim darted a rapid glance at the individual who
presented himself, and then breathed freely again.

After setting to rights his coiffure 'a la Perinet', the artist ente