was
ready, she said, 'Ernest, you will tell my father that I shall not
be back for breakfast. I have a good many visits to make; and, as
the weather is fine, I shall afterwards go to the Bois de Boulogne.'
Thereupon the gates were opened, and off they went. It was then that I
took the liberty to send you word, sir."

In all his life Count Ville-Handry had not been so furious. The veins
in his neck began to swell; and his eyes became bloodshot, as if he had
been threatened with a fit of apoplexy.

"You ought to have kept her from going out," he said hoarsely. "Why did
you not prevent her? You ought to have made her go back to her room, use
force if necessary, lock her up, bind her."

"You had given no orders, sir."

"You ought to have required no orders to do your duty. To let a mad
woman run about! an impudent girl whom I caught the other day in the
garden with a man!"

He cried out so loud, that his voice was heard in the adjoining room,
where the invited guests were beginning to assemble. The unhappy man! He
disgraced his own child. The young countess at once came up to him and
said,--

"I beseech you, my dear friend, be calm!"

"No, this must end; and I mean to punish the wicked girl."

"I beseech you, my dear count, do not destroy the happiness of the first
day of our married life. Henrietta is only a child; she did not know
what she was doing."

Mrs. Brian was not of the same opinion. She declared,--

"The count is right. The conduct of this young lady is perfectly
shocking."

Then Sir Thorn interrupted her, saying,--

"Ah, ah! Brian, where is our bargain? Was it not understood that we
would have nothing to do with the count's private affairs?"

Thus every one took up at once his assigned part. The countess advocated
forbearance; Mrs. Brian advised discipline; and Sir Thorn was in favor
of silent impartiality.

Besides, they easily succeeded in calming the count. But, after such a
scene, the wedding breakfast could not be very merry. The guests, who
had heard nearly all, exchanged strange looks with each other.

"The count's daughter," they thought, "and a lover? That can hardly be!"

In vain did the count try to look indifferent; in vain did the young
countess display all her rare gifts. Everybody was embarrassed; nobody
could summon up a smile; and every five minutes the conversation gave
out. At half-past four o'clock, the last guest had escaped, and the
count remained alone with his new fam