illness of Quantrelle the Red. After
a day of peculiarly unbearable conduct on his part, the other domestics
in the house had revolted, and late in the evening turned him out to
pass the night in his fireless sentry-box. For ten days after this
occurrence he hovered between life and death with an inflammation of the
lungs, during which period the De Nemours' household learned his real
power, for the Countess flew into a paroxysm of rage at his treatment,
discharged the cook and one of the upper maids, harangued the others,
sent for the best doctors in Paris, and herself assisted in the nursing,
taking little sleep or nourishment until the old fellow was well on his
way to recovery.

During all of this turmoil Katrine went quietly back and forth to her
lessons, in no way questioning the conduct of the Countess, for she
understood to the full that human hearts form attachments by no rule.

One evening during Quantrelle's convalescence, when the Countess was her
sunny self again, she offered, unasked, an explanation of her seemingly
singular conduct.

"Little person," she said, putting her hand on Katrine's shoulder, "you
mustn't judge too harshly my Irish temper. It was gratitude to
Quantrelle which made me act as I did. There were two years of my life
when I should have died but for him."

It was an amazing statement, and Katrine's face showed her astonishment.

"When I was sixteen," Madame de Nemours continued, "I was sent to a
convent school at Tours. Quantrelle's father was gate-keeper there, and
let me pass out the night I went to be married. I was only a child." The
Countess covered her face with both hands, as though to shut out some
horrid sight. "He was an American, a Protestant, and my father cursed
me. Two years after the marriage my husband deserted me. Perhaps," she
paused in her story, "perhaps Dermott has told you this?"

"He has never spoken of it to me," said Katrine.

"After my baby came," Madame de Nemours continued, "I was alone with
poverty and ill health, and for two years, _two years_," she repeated,
impressively, "Quantrelle, a long, thin-legged, red-haired boy, kept me
alive with the money he could earn and the scant assistance his mother
could lend him. It was eleven years later, four years after my baby's
death and my father's forgiveness, that I married the Count. Katrine,
darling, I gave him a great affection and entire devotion, but my heart
died with the first love. To have that first