what could you have to say to my daughter?"

"I should say----"

"Well, what would you say?"

"I should say that if she loves any one, it is not M. de Breulh." He
endeavored to pass through the half-opened door, but the Count closed it
violently.

"You shall not leave this room," cried he, "until you have explained
this insulting remark."

"I had no intention of offending you," answered Tantaine humbly.
"I only----" He paused, and then, with an air of sarcasm which sat
strangely upon a person of his appearance, went on, "I am aware that
the heiress of a noble family may do many things without having her
reputation compromised, when girls in a lower social grade would be
forever lost by the commission of any one of them; and I am sure if the
family of M. de Breulh knew that the young lady to whom he was engaged
had been in the habit of passing her afternoons alone with a young man
in his studio----"

He paused, and hastily drew a revolver, for it seemed to him as if the
Count were about to throw himself upon him. "Softly, softly, if you
please," cried he. "Blows and insults are fatal mistakes. I have better
information than yourself, that is all. I have more than ten times seen
your daughter enter a house in the Rue Tour d'Auvergne, and asking for
M. Andre, creep silently up the staircase."

The Count felt that he was choking. He tore off his cravat, and cried
wildly, "Proofs! Give me proofs!"

During the last five minutes Tantaine had shifted his ground so
skilfully that the heavy library table now stood between himself and the
Count, and he was comparatively safe behind this extemporized defence.

"Proofs?" answered he. "Do you think that I carry them about with me? In
a week I could give you the lovers' correspondence. That, you will say,
is too long to wait; but you can set your doubts at rest at once. If you
go to the address I will give you before eight to-morrow morning, and
enter the rooms occupied by M. Andre, you will find the portrait
of Mademoiselle Sabine carefully concealed from view behind a green
curtain, and a very good portrait it is. I presume you will admit that
it could not have been executed without a sitting."

"Leave this," cried the Count, "without a moment's delay."

Tantaine did not wait for a repetition of these words. He passed through
the doorway, and as soon as he was outside he called out in cheerful
accents. "Do not forget the address, Number 45, Rue Tour d'Auvergne,
name o