y in a situation
unworthy of him."

"And so you have made up your minds?" asked Mathieu.

"Well, my wife has calculated everything," Morange replied; "and, yes,
we have made up our minds, provided, of course, that nothing unforeseen
occurs. Besides, it is only in October that any situation will be open
at the Credit National. But, I say, my dear friend, keep the matter
entirely to yourself, for we don't want to quarrel with the Beauchenes
just now."

Then he looked at his watch, for, like a good clerk, he was very
punctual, and did not wish to be late at the office. The servant was
hurried, the coffee was served, and they were drinking it, boiling hot
as it was, when the arrival of a visitor upset the little household and
caused everything to be forgotten.

"Oh!" exclaimed Valerie, as she hastily rose, flushed with pride,
"Madame la Baronne de Lowicz!"

Seraphine, at this time nine-and-twenty, was red-haired, tall and
elegant, with magnificent shoulders which were known to all Paris. Her
red lips were wreathed in a triumphant smile, and a voluptuous flame
ever shone in her large brown eyes flecked with gold.

"Pray don't disturb yourselves, my friends," said she. "Your servant
wanted to show me into the drawing-room, but I insisted on coming in
here, because it is rather a pressing matter. I have come to fetch your
charming little Reine to take her to a matinee at the Circus."

A fresh explosion of delight ensued. The child remained speechless with
joy, whilst the mother exulted and rattled on: "Oh! Madame la Baronne,
you are really too kind! You are spoiling the child. But the fact is
that she isn't dressed, and you will have to wait a moment. Come, child,
make haste, I will help you--ten minutes, you understand--I won't keep
you waiting a moment longer."

Seraphine remained alone with the two men. She had made a gesture of
surprise on perceiving Mathieu, whose hand, like an old friend, she now
shook.

"And you, are you quite well?" she asked.

"Quite well," he answered; and as she sat down near him he instinctively
pushed his chair back. He did not seem at all pleased at having met her.

He had been on familiar terms with her during his earlier days at the
Beauchene works. She was a frantic pleasure-lover, and destitute of both
conscience and moral principles. Her conduct had given rise to scandal
even before her extraordinary elopement with Baron de Lowicz, that needy
adventurer with a face like an arch