nts were rushing about; the vestibule
resounded with hurried steps; and she distinguished the imperious voice
of M. Ernest, the count's valet, who called out,--

"Salts, quick! Fresh water. The countess has a nervous attack."

A bitter smile curled Henrietta's lips.

"At least," she said to herself, "I shall have poisoned this woman's
joy." And, fearing to be caught thus listening, she went up stairs.

But, when she was alone once more, the poor girl failed not to recognize
the utter futility of her fancied triumph. Whom had she wounded, after
all? Her father.

However unwell the countess might be to-night,--and perhaps she was not
really unwell,--she would certainly be well again in the morning; and
then what would be the advantage of the scandal she had attempted in
order to ruin her? Now Henrietta saw it very clearly,--now, when it was
too late.

Worse than that! She fancied that what she had done to-day pledged
her for the future. The road upon which she had started evidently led
nowhere. Never mind, it seemed to her miserable cowardice to shrink from
going on.

Rising with the sun, she was deliberating on what weak point she might
make her next attack, when there came a knock at the door, and Clarissa,
her own maid, entered.

"Here is a letter for you, miss," she said. "I have received it this
moment, in an envelope addressed to me."

Henrietta examined the letter for a long time before opening it,
studying the handwriting, which she did not know. Who could write to
her, and in this way, unless it was Maxime de Brevan, to whom Daniel
had begged her to intrust herself, and who, so far, had given no sign of
life of himself?

It was M. de Brevan who wrote thus,--

"Madam,--Like all Paris, I also have heard of your proud and noble
protest on the day of your father's unfortunate marriage. Egotists and
fools will perhaps blame you. But you may despise them; for all the best
men are on your side. And my dear Daniel, if he were here, would approve
and admire your courage, as I do myself."

She drew a full breath, as if her heart had been relieved of a heavy
burden.

Daniel's friend approved her conduct. This was enough to stifle
henceforth the voice of reason, and to make her disregard every idea of
prudence. The whole letter of M. de Brevan was, moreover, nothing but a
long and respectful admonition to resist desperately.

Farther on he wrote,--

"At the moment of taking the train, Daniel handed