he guest they closed the door of the
anteroom. Darvid turned and saw Irene standing at the round
table. That day, while passing on the stairs, when she was
returning from a trip to the city, and he was hastening to the
carriage waiting for him, they had greeted each other hurriedly
and in passing. He had not a moment's time then to talk with her;
she, too, was in a hurry, for she ran up the stairs quickly.

"Bon jour, pere!" said she, inclining her head with swift
movement.

"Bon jour, Irene," answered he, touching his hat. Behind him
moved the secretary, carrying a heavy portfolio of papers; after
her went some merchant's servant with packages. No greeting was
necessary now. Irene, standing at the table, began to speak at
once:

"I have come, father, to beg you in mamma's name and my own for a
half-an-hour's conversation, but to-day, now, absolutely."

Her bodice, which was dark and close fitting, had a very
high-standing ruff, which enclosed her slightly elongated and
very pale face, just as the half-open shield of a leaf encloses a
white flower-bud. Her whole person, in that chamber, with its
very high ceiling and massive furniture, seemed smaller and less
tall than elsewhere. However, the words "now and absolutely" were
spoken with such solid emphasis, that Darvid halted in the middle
of the room and fixed a sharp glance on her.

"You have come in your mother's name and your own," said he. "Why
this solemnity and decision? You wish, of course, to explain the
reasons why your mother and you have seen fit to oppose my will."

"No, father," answered she, "but I intend to announce to you
mamma's will and mine."

"As to that ball?" asked he, quickly.

"No, the question is immensely more important than the ball."

Both were silent for a moment. If the words exchanged had been
less emphatic, and had followed one another less quickly, Darvid
and his daughter might, perhaps, have heard, in a corner of the
room, behind a wall of books arranged on highly ornamented
shelves, a slight rustle which lasted a short time. Something had
moved there, and then stopped moving.

"It touches an affair of immensely greater importance than the
ball," repeated Irene; "namely, my mother's peace, honor, and
conscience."

"What pomposity of expression!" exclaimed Darvid, with a slight
smile. "I observe more and more that exaggeration is a disease in
my family. I should prefer simple speech from you."

"The question before us i