vilely forsworn. Go!
From this moment I disown you as my son. For the sake of others I will
spare you any public degradation, and any punishment beyond the
necessity of seeking your fortune henceforward as you best may, with no
sympathy or aid from me beyond a small allowance which I shall cause to
be remitted to you from time to time. For the rest, I have done with
you."

The last words were scarcely uttered when Isidore found himself alone
with his own reflections.

[Illustration: Tailpiece to Chapter IV]

[Illustration: Headpiece to Chapter V]

CHAPTER V.

For several days after the eventful scene at the Chateau de Beaujardin
nothing particularly worth mentioning occurred either there or at
Valricour; outwardly at least, matters seemed to have relapsed into
their ordinary routine, just as some usually placid stream, after being
swollen and agitated for a while by a sudden storm of wind and rain,
subsides once more into its customary channel. The marquis, indeed,
might seem somewhat more sedate and more taciturn than was his wont,
and the marchioness possibly suffered herself to be looked upon by her
female friends as very much to be pitied for some mysterious cause of
anxiety she could not divulge for all the world. Madame de Valricour,
however, betrayed not the slightest indication that anything was going
or had gone wrong; on the contrary, she appeared more lively and
amiable than usual, and treated Marguerite with peculiar affability and
sweetness. But Clotilde, at all events, was not slow to perceive that
both Marguerite and herself were watched much more closely than they
had ever been before by Madame de Bleury, a decayed gentlewoman and
distant relative of Madame de Valricour, who had for some years past
lived at the chateau, and discharged the multifarious duties of
housekeeper, chaperone, duenna, and private secretary to the baroness
as occasion required. More than once during those few days Madame de
Valricour went over to Beaujardin, but did not take either of the young
ladies with her, a circumstance at which Clotilde chafed not a little,
declaring that she was quite sure that it was neither the weather nor
the distance that stood in the way, as her mother alleged, but in order
that she might not come across Monsieur de Crillon, who was just then
on a visit at Beaujardin.

"What should I care about him?" she would say to Marguerite. "He has
become much too grand a personage