door, and could not repress a
cry of surprise and rage.

She found herself in the sumptuously appointed room which Chanlouineau
had made the sanctuary of his great love, and upon which he had
lavished, with the fanaticism of passion, all that was costly and
luxurious.

"Then it is true!" exclaimed Blanche. "And I thought just now that all
was too meagre and too poor! Miserable dupe that I am! Below, all is
arranged for the eyes of comers and goers. Here, everything is intended
exclusively for themselves. Now, I recognize Martial's astonishing
talent for dissimulation. He loves this vile creature so much that he
is anxious in regard to her reputation; he keeps his visits to her a
secret, and this is the hidden paradise of their love. Here they laugh
at me, the poor forsaken wife, whose marriage was but a mockery."

She had desired to know the truth; certainty was less terrible to endure
than this constant suspicion, And, as if she found a little enjoyment
in proving the extent of Martial's love for a hated rival, she took an
inventory, as it were, of the magnificent appointments of the chamber,
feeling the heavy brocaded silk stuff that formed the curtains, and
testing the thickness of the rich carpet with her foot.

Everything indicated that Marie-Anne was expecting someone; the bright
fire, the large arm-chair placed before the hearth, the embroidered
slippers lying beside the chair.

And whom could she expect save Martial? The person who had been there a
few moments before probably came to announce the arrival of her lover,
and she had gone out to meet him.

For a trifling circumstance would seem to indicate that this messenger
had not been expected.

Upon the mantel stood a bowl of still smoking bouillon.

It was evident that Marie-Anne was on the point of drinking this when
she heard the signal.

Mme. Blanche was wondering how she could profit by her discovery, when
her eyes fell upon a large oaken box standing open upon a table near the
glass door leading into the dressing-room, and filled with tiny boxes
and vials.

Mechanically she approached it, and among the bottles she saw two of
blue glass, upon which the word "poison" was inscribed.

"Poison!" Blanche could not turn her eyes from this word, which seemed
to exert a kind of fascination over her.

A diabolical inspiration associated the contents of these vials with the
bowl standing upon the mantel.

"And why not?" she murmured. "I could escap