s slow, and by the time he
started out for the Hotel de Langeais the Duchess was hurrying on foot
through the streets of Paris, goaded by the dull rage in her heart. She
reached the Boulevard d'Enfer, and looked out for the last time through
falling tears on the noisy, smoky city that lay below in a red mist,
lighted up by its own lamps. Then she hailed a cab, and drove away,
never to return. When the Marquis de Montriveau reached the Hotel de
Langeais, and found no trace of his mistress, he thought that he had
been duped. He hurried away at once to the Vidame, and found that worthy
gentleman in the act of slipping on his flowered dressing-gown, thinking
the while of his fair cousin's happiness.

Montriveau gave him one of the terrific glances that produced the effect
of an electric shock on men and women alike.

"Is it possible that you have lent yourself to some cruel hoax,
monsieur?" Montriveau exclaimed. "I have just come from Mme de Langeais'
house; the servants say that she is out."

"Then a great misfortune has happened, no doubt," returned the Vidame,
"and through your fault. I left the Duchess at your door----"

"When?"

"At a quarter to eight."

"Good evening," returned Montriveau, and he hurried home to ask the
porter whether he had seen a lady standing on the doorstep that evening.

"Yes, my Lord Marquis, a handsome woman, who seemed very much put out.
She was crying like a Magdalen, but she never made a sound, and stood
as upright as a post. Then at last she went, and my wife and I that were
watching her while she could not see us, heard her say, 'Oh, God!' so
that it went to our hearts, asking your pardon, to hear her say it."

Montriveau, in spite of all his firmness, turned pale at those few
words. He wrote a few lines to Ronquerolles, sent off the message at
once, and went up to his rooms. Ronquerolles came just about midnight.

Armand gave him the Duchess's letter to read.

"Well?" asked Ronquerolles.

"She was here at my door at eight o'clock; at a quarter-past eight she
had gone. I have lost her, and I love her. Oh! if my life were my own, I
could blow my brains out."

"Pooh, pooh! Keep cool," said Ronquerolles. "Duchesses do not fly off
like wagtails. She cannot travel faster than three leagues an hour, and
tomorrow we will ride six.--Confound it! Mme de Langeais is no ordinary
woman," he continued. "Tomorrow we will all of us mount and ride.
The police will put us on her track during