Three days had elapsed since M. de Maillefort's interviews with Madame de Senneterre and M. de la Rochaiguë, and Herminie, alone in her pretty room, seemed a prey to the keenest anxiety; for every now and then she cast an impatient glance at the clock, or started at the slightest sound, or turned hastily towards the door.

In fact, one could discern in the face of the duchess an anxiety fully equal to that which she had experienced some time before, while in momentary expectation of the much dreaded M. Bouffard's coming.

And yet it was not a visit from M. Bouffard, but from M. de Maillefort, that caused the girl's agitation.

The flowers in the pretty little room had just been renewed, and the muslin curtains at the windows that overlooked the garden had been freshly laundered. These windows were open, but the green outside shutters were closed to keep out the glare.

After setting her house in order with scrupulous care, the duchess had evidently made an unusually careful toilet, for she had donned her best dress, a high-necked, black levantine, with chemisette and sleeves of dazzling whiteness. Her sole ornament was her magnificent hair, which gleamed like burnished gold in the sun-light, but never had her beauty seemed more noble and touching in its character, for, for some time past, her face had been paler, though her complexion had lost none of its dazzling clearness.

The duchess had just given another quick glance at the door, when she fancied she heard a footstep outside, near the window that overlooked the garden, and she was about to rise and satisfy her doubts, when the door opened, and Madame Moufflon ushered in M. de Maillefort.

That gentleman was hardly in the room, however, before he turned and said to the portress:

"A lady will come and ask to see Mlle. Herminie, in a few moments—you will admit her."

"Yes, monsieur," replied Madame Moufflon, deferentially, as she took her departure.

On hearing the words, "A lady will come and ask to see Mlle. Herminie," the girl sprang forward hastily, exclaiming:

"Mon Dieu! M. le marquis,—this lady—whom you expect—?"

"Is she!" replied the marquis, radiant with joy and hope. "Yes, she is coming at last!"

Then, seeing Herminie turn as pale as death and tremble violently in every limb, the hunchback cried:

"What is the matter, my child? Tell me, what is the matter?"

"Ah, monsieur," said the duchess, faintly, "I don't know why, but now, oh, I feel so afraid!"

"Afraid! when Madame de Senneterre has pledged herself to make the concession which you were very right to ask, but which you had little hope that she would ever grant!"

"Alas! monsieur, now, for the first time, I seem to understand the temerity, the impropriety, perhaps, of my demand."

"My dear child," exclaimed the hunchback, anxiously, "no weakness, I beg, or you will lose all. Be your own noble, charming self, the personification of modesty without humility, and of dignity without arrogance, and all will be well,—I trust."

"Ah, monsieur, when you told me yesterday that there was a possibility of this visit from Madame de Senneterre, I thought my cup of joy would be filled to overflowing, if this hope should be realised, and now I feel only the most abject terror and alarm."

"Here she comes! Summon up all your courage, my child, for God's sake, and think of Gerald!" exclaimed the hunchback, hearing a carriage stop at the door.

"Oh, monsieur, have pity on me," murmured the duchess, clutching M. de Maillefort's hand convulsively. "Oh, I shall never dare—"

"Poor child! she is going to ruin her prospects, I fear," thought the marquis.

Almost at that very instant the door opened, and Madame de Senneterre entered.

She was a tall and slender woman, with an exceedingly haughty manner, and she came into the room with head high in the air, an insolent gleam in her eyes, and a disdainful smile upon her lips. She had an unusually high colour, and seemed to find it difficult to control her feelings.

The fact is, Madame de Senneterre was violently agitated by conflicting emotions. This ridiculously proud and arrogant woman had left her home firmly resolved to make the concession towards Herminie which M. de Maillefort demanded, and in return for which he had promised to adopt the young girl.

Madame de Senneterre had consequently resolved that during this visit, which cost her pride so much, her demeanour should be scrupulously, though coldly, polite; but as the moment for the interview approached, and as this arrogant woman reflected that she, the Duchesse de Senneterre, was about to present herself as a petitioner at the home of an obscure young girl, who worked for her living, the implacable pride of the grande dame revolted at the thought. Anger filled her heart, she lost her head, and, forgetting the advantages her son would derive from this marriage, forgetting that, after all, it was the adopted daughter of the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel she was about to visit, and not the poor music teacher, Madame de Senneterre reached Herminie's home with no intention of adopting any conciliatory measures, but resolved to treat this insolent creature, who had been so audacious in her pretensions, as she deserved to be treated.

On seeing the haughtiness, aggressiveness, and anger so legibly imprinted on Madame de Senneterre's features, the marquis, no less surprised than alarmed, understood the sudden change which had taken place in the intentions of Gerald's mother, and said to himself, despairingly:

"All is lost!"

As for Herminie, she did not seem to have a drop of blood in her veins. Her beautiful face had become frightfully pale; her lips, which were almost blue, trembled convulsively; it seemed impossible for her to raise her eyes—in fact, she seemed unable to make the slightest movement, or even to utter a word.

In spite of the high terms in which M. de Maillefort had spoken of this young girl whom he esteemed so highly as to be willing to give her his name, Madame de Senneterre, too insufferably proud as well as opinionated to concede that Herminie's conduct might have been prompted solely by a sense of dignity, had expected to find herself confronted by a vain, pert, rather coarse, ill-bred girl, proud of her conquest, and resolved to make the most of it; so, as Gerald's mother, she had armed herself with the most insulting disdain and arrogance of manner.

She was consequently both astonished and discomfited at the sight of this charming but timid creature, of such rare loveliness and wonderful distinction of manner, who, instead of giving herself any impertinent airs, did not even dare to raise her eyes, and seemed more dead than alive in the presence of the great lady from whom she had exacted this visit.

"Good Heavens, how beautiful she is!" Madame de Senneterre said to herself, with a strange mixture of spitefulness and involuntary admiration. "What a refined and distinguished looking young woman this poor, obscure music teacher is! It is simply marvellous! My own daughters are not to be compared with her."

Though it has taken some time to describe these conflicting sentiments in the heart of Madame de Senneterre, their coming and going had been well-nigh simultaneous, and only a few seconds had elapsed after her entrance into the room before, blushing for the sort of embarrassment and dismay that she had at first experienced, she broke the silence by demanding in haughty, supercilious tones:

"Mlle. Herminie, is she here?"

"I am she, madame la duchesse," faltered Herminie, while M. de Maillefort stood watching the scene with growing anxiety.

"Mlle. Herminie—the music teacher?" repeated Madame de Senneterre, with a contemptuous emphasis on the last word. "You are that young person, I suppose."

"Yes, madame la duchesse," replied the poor girl, trembling like a leaf, and without venturing to raise her eyes.

"Well, mademoiselle, you are satisfied, I trust? You have had the audacity to insist that I should come here, and here I am."

"I felt constrained—madame la duchesse—to solicit the honour—that—that—"

"Indeed! And what right have you to presume to make this insolent demand?"

"Madame!" exclaimed the hunchback, threateningly.

But as Madame de Senneterre uttered these last insulting words, Herminie, who had seemed so terrified, so utterly crushed until then, lifted her head proudly, a slight tinge of colour suffused her cheeks, and, raising her large blue eyes for the first time to the face of Gerald's mother, she replied in firm though gentle tones:

"I have never felt that I had the right to expect even the slightest mark of deference from you, madame. On the contrary, I only desired to—to testify the respect that I felt for your authority, madame, by declaring to M. de Senneterre that I could not and would not accept his hand without his mother's consent."

"And I—a person of my age and position—must humiliate myself by making the first advances to mademoiselle?"

"I am an orphan, madame, without a relative in the world. I could designate no one else for you to approach on the subject, and my dignity would not permit me to go to you and solicit—"

"Your dignity,—this is really very amusing!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, infuriated at finding herself obliged to acknowledge the charming reserve and perfect dignity of the girl's demeanour under such very trying circumstances. "Could anything be more extraordinary?" she continued, with a sarcastic laugh. "Mademoiselle has her dignity."

"I have the dignity of virtue, poverty, and honest toil, madame la duchesse," replied Herminie, looking Madame de Senneterre full in the face, this time with such an unflinching, noble air that Gerald's mother became embarrassed and was obliged to avert her eyes.

For several minutes the marquis had found it very difficult to restrain his desire to punish Madame de Senneterre for her insolence to his protégée, but on hearing Herminie's simple but noble reply, he thought her sufficiently avenged.

"So be it, then," responded Madame de Senneterre, in a rather less bitter tone. "You have your dignity, but you can hardly think that for a person to be able to enter one of the most illustrious families in France it is enough for that person to be honest, virtuous and industrious."

"But I do think so, madame."

"You are not lacking in pride, I must say," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, thoroughly exasperated. "Mademoiselle doubtless supposes that by marrying M. le Duc de Senneterre she will confer a great honour upon him, as well as upon his family."

"In responding to M. de Senneterre's affection with an affection equal to his own, I feel that I do honour him by my preference as much as he has honoured me. As for M. de Senneterre's family, I know, madame, that they will never be proud of me, but I shall have the consciousness of being worthy of them."

"Good!" exclaimed the hunchback, "good, my brave and noble child!"

Though Madame de Senneterre was making every effort to resist the influence of Herminie's charms, she found herself gradually yielding to it in spite of herself.

The beauty, grace, and exquisite tact of this charming creature exerted a sort of fascination over Gerald's mother, so, fearing she might succumb to it, she resolved to end all temptation to do so by burning her ships behind her, or, in other words, by again resorting to vituperation, so she exclaimed, wrathfully:

"No, no, it shall never be said that I allowed myself to be cajoled by the charms and perfidious words of a mere adventuress, and that I was fool enough to give my consent to her marriage with my son."

The hunchback sprang forward with a terrible look at Madame de Senneterre, but, before he could utter a word, Herminie replied, in faltering tones, while big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks:

"Pardon me, madame. Insult finds me speechless and defenceless, especially when it is M. de Senneterre's mother that insults. I have but one favour to ask of you, madame. It is to remember that I not only anticipated this refusal, but accepted it in advance, so it would have been more generous in you not to have come here to crush me with it. What was my crime, madame? Simply to have believed that M. de Senneterre's station in life was as obscure and laborious as my own. But for that, I would have died rather than yielded to such a love."

"What!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, "you did not know that my son—"

"M. de Senneterre represented himself to be a man who was obliged to labour hard for his daily bread. I believed him; I loved him,—loved him truly and disinterestedly. When I discovered who he really was, I refused to see him again, for I was resolved that I would never marry him against the wishes of his family. That, madame, is the truth, and the whole truth," added Herminie, in a voice broken with sobs. "This love, for which, thank God, I shall never have to blush, must be sacrificed. I expected it, but I believed I had the right to suffer without the presence of witnesses. I forgive your cruel words, madame. You are a mother, you did not know, perhaps, that I was worthy of your son,—and maternal love is sacred, even if it be in the wrong."

Herminie dried the tears that were streaming down her pale face, then continued, in a weak and faltering voice, for, overcome by this painful scene, she felt that her strength was fast failing her:

"Will you have the goodness to say to M. de Senneterre, madame, that I forgive him the wrong he has, unconsciously, done me. Here, before you—you—his mother—I swear that—I will never see him again,—and you need have no fear of my breaking my word. So, madame, you can leave here reassured and content,—but—but I feel so strangely—M. de Maillefort—come to me—I beg—come—I—"

The poor girl could say no more. Her lips fluttered feebly, and she cast a despairing look at the hunchback, who sprang forward only just in time to receive her almost lifeless form in his arms. He placed her tenderly in an armchair, then, turning to Madame de Senneterre, with a terrible expression on his face, he cried:

"Ah, you shall weep tears of blood for your cruelty here, madame. Go, go, I tell you. Don't you see that she is dying!"

Herminie did, indeed, look as if death had claimed her for his own, with her marble white face, and her head hanging inertly down upon one shoulder. Her forehead, bathed in a cold sweat, was half covered with some soft ringlets of golden hair which had escaped from their confinement, and an occasional tear forced its way through her half closed eyelids, while ever and anon a convulsive shudder shook her entire body.

M. de Maillefort could not restrain his tears, and, turning to Madame de Senneterre, he exclaimed, bitterly, in a voice hoarse with emotion: "You are gloating over your work, are you not?"

What was the hunchback's astonishment to see compassionate grief and keen remorse plainly imprinted upon this haughty woman's face, for, conquered at last by Herminie's noble and touching resignation, she, in turn, burst into tears, and said to the marquis, in beseeching tones:

"Have pity on me, M. de Maillefort I came here resolved to keep my promise, but—but my pride revolted in spite of me. I lost my head. Now, I repent, oh, how bitterly! I am ashamed, I am horrified at my heartless conduct."

And, running to Herminie, the duchess tenderly lifted her head and kissed her upon the forehead; then, twining her arms around her to support her, said, in a voice faltering with emotion:

"Poor child! Will she ever forgive me? M. de Maillefort, ring for assistance, call some one, her pallor terrifies me."

Just then hurried steps were heard in the hall. The door flew open, and Gerald rushed in like one distracted, his eyes wild, his manner threatening, for, from the garden in which he had concealed himself without the knowledge of either Herminie or M. de Maillefort, he had heard his mother's cruel words.

"Gerald!" cried the astonished marquis.

"I was there," the young man exclaimed, pointing to the window. "I heard all, and—"

But the young duke did not complete the sentence, so amazed was he to see his mother supporting Herminie's head upon her bosom.

"My son," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, "I am truly horrified at what I have done. I consent to everything. She is an angel. May Heaven forgive me!"

"Oh, mother, mother," murmured Gerald, in accents of ineffable gratitude, as he fell upon his knees beside Herminie, and covered her cold hands with tears and kisses.

"You have done wisely," the marquis said, in low tones, to Madame de Senneterre. "It is adoration that your son will feel for you now."

That same instant, seeing Herminie make a slight movement, Gerald exclaimed, joyfully:

"She is recovering consciousness!"

Then, in a thrilling voice, he cried:

"Herminie, it is I. It is Gerald!"

On hearing M. de Senneterre's voice, Herminie gave a slight start, then slowly opened her eyes, which seemed at first fixed and troubled, like the eyes of one awaking from a dream.

Then the sort of mist which seemed to obscure her mental faculties faded away, and the girl slowly raised her head, which had been reposing on Madame de Senneterre's bosom, and looked around her.

To her intense astonishment, she saw that Gerald's mother was supporting her in her arms and watching her with the tenderest solicitude.

Believing she was still in a dream, Herminie hastily raised herself, and passed her burning hands over her eyes, after which her gaze, as it became more and more assured, was directed, first upon M. de Maillefort, who was gazing at her with ineffable delight, and then upon Gerald, who was still kneeling before her.

"Gerald!" she cried, rapturously.

Then, with an expression of mingled hope and fear, she hastily glanced around at Madame de Senneterre, as if to satisfy herself that it was indeed from Gerald's mother that she was receiving these marks of touching interest.

Gerald, noticing the girl's movement, hastily exclaimed:

"Herminie, my mother consents to everything."

"Yes, yes, mademoiselle," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, effusively. "I consent to everything. There are many wrongs for which I must ask forgiveness,—but my love and tenderness will enable me to gain it at last."

"Can this be true, madame?" cried Herminie, clasping her hands. "Oh, God, can it be possible! You really consent? All this is not a dream?"

"No, Herminie, it is not a dream," exclaimed Gerald, rapturously. "We belong to each other now! You shall soon be my wife."

"No, my noble child, it is not a dream," said M. de Maillefort, "It is a fitting reward for a life of toil and virtue."

"No, mademoiselle, it is not a dream," said Madame de Senneterre, "for it is you," she added, casting a meaning glance at the marquis, "you, Mlle. Herminie, who nobly support yourself by your own exertions, that I joyfully accept as my daughter-in-law in M. de Maillefort's presence, for I am satisfied that my son could not make a choice more worthy of him, of me, and of his family."

Half an hour afterwards Madame de Senneterre and her son took an affectionate leave of Herminie, who, in company with M. de Maillefort, forthwith repaired to the house of Mlle. de Beaumesnil to tell her the good news, and sustain the courage of the richest heiress in France, for a final and formidable ordeal was in store for her, or, rather, for Olivier.

While M. de Senneterre was taking his mother home, Herminie and M. de Maillefort were bowling swiftly along in the marquis's carriage on their way to Mlle. de Beaumesnil.

The delight of the marquis and his youthful protégée, whose happiness was now assured, can be imagined.

The marquis knew Madame de Senneterre well enough to feel sure that she was incapable of retracting the solemn consent she had given to the marriage of Gerald and Herminie.

Nevertheless, M. de Maillefort resolved to call on Madame de Senneterre the following morning, and assure her that he had not changed his intention of adopting Herminie, who was dearer to him than ever, if that were possible, since he had witnessed her noble and touching behaviour during her interview with the haughty Duchesse de Senneterre.

M. de Maillefort's only fear now was that the proud and sensitive girl might refuse to accept the advantages he was so anxious to confer upon her; but almost sure that he would succeed in overcoming her scruples eventually, he resolved to maintain an absolute silence concerning his intentions for the present.

M. de Maillefort and his companion had been driving along for several minutes, when a block of vehicles at the corner of the Rue de Courcelles obliged their driver to check his horses for an instant.

There was a locksmith's shop on the corner of this street, and the hunchback, who had put his head out of the carriage window to ascertain the cause of the sudden stop, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and, hastily drawing in his head, muttered:

"What can that man be doing there?"

As was natural, Herminie's eyes quickly followed those of the hunchback, and she could not repress a movement of disgust and aversion which M. de Maillefort failed to notice, however, for almost at the same instant he lowered the curtain of the window nearest him.

By drawing this small silken curtain a little aside, the marquis could see without being seen, and through the tiny opening he seemed to be watching something or somebody with considerable uneasiness, while Herminie, not daring to question him, gazed at him wonderingly.

The marquis had caught sight of M. de Ravil in the locksmith's shop, and he could still see him talking with the locksmith,—a man with a kind, honest face. He was showing him a key, and evidently giving him some instructions in regard to it, for, taking the key, the locksmith placed it in his vice just as M. de Maillefort's carriage again started on its way towards the Faubourg St. Germain, and M. de Macreuse's new friend, or, rather, his new accomplice, was lost to sight.

"What is the matter, monsieur?" inquired Herminie, seeing that the hunchback had suddenly become thoughtful.

"I just observed an apparently insignificant thing, my dear child, but it makes me a trifle uneasy. I saw a man in a locksmith's shop just now, showing the locksmith a key. I should not even have noticed the fact, though, if I did not know that the man who had the key was a scoundrel, capable of anything, and under certain circumstances the slightest act of a man like that furnishes food for reflection."

"Is the man you refer to unusually tall, and has he a bad, hard face?"

"So you, too, noticed him?"

"I have had only too much cause to do so, monsieur."

"Explain, my dear child."

So Herminie briefly related Ravil's many futile attempts to obtain access to her since the evening he so grossly insulted her while on her way to Madame de Beaumesnil's.

"If the scoundrel is in the habit of hanging around your house, my dear child, it is not so surprising that we should have seen him in a shop in this part of the town. Still, what can have taken him to this locksmith's?" asked the hunchback, thoughtfully. "Since he became so intimate with that rascal, Macreuse, I have been keeping a close watch on both of them. One of my men is shadowing them, for such creatures as they are are never more dangerous than when they are playing dead,—not that I fear them myself; oh, no, but I do fear for Ernestine."

"For Ernestine?" asked the duchess, with quite as much surprise as uneasiness. "What can she have to fear from creatures like these?"

"You do not know, my dear child, that this Ravil was the most zealous aider and abettor of one of the suitors for Ernestine's hand. Macreuse, too, made equally nefarious attempts to secure this tempting prey. As I unmasked them both in public, I fear that their resentment will fall upon Ernestine, especially as their rage, on finding that they will not be able to make the poor child their victim, is so venomous; but I am watching them closely, and this visit of Ravil to the locksmith—though I cannot imagine the motive of it now—will make me redouble my vigilance."

"But you can hardly imagine that this visit would affect Ernestine in any way."

"I am not at all sure that it does, my dear child, but I think it strange that De Ravil should take the trouble to seek out a locksmith in this remote part of the town. But let us say no more about it. Such scoundrels as those two men are should not be allowed to mar pure and richly deserved happiness. My task is only half completed. Your happiness is assured, my child, and now I trust this may prove an equally fortunate day for Ernestine. Here we are at last. Find her and tell her of your happiness while I go up to the baron's apartments. I have a few words to say to him, after which I will rejoin you in Ernestine's rooms."

"Did I not hear you say something in regard to a final test?"

"Yes, my dear child."

"Does it relate to M. Olivier?"

"Yes, and if he sustains the ordeal bravely and nobly, as I am sure he will, Ernestine will have no cause to envy you your felicity."

"And did Ernestine consent to this test, monsieur?"

"Yes, my child, for it would not only serve to establish the nobility of Olivier's sentiments beyond a doubt, but also remove any scruples he might feel about marrying Ernestine when he discovers that the little embroideress is the richest heiress in France."

"Alas! monsieur, it is on that point I feel the greatest misgivings. M. Olivier is so extremely sensitive in regard to all money matters, Gerald says."

"And for that very reason I gave my poor brain no rest until I had found, or at least fancied I had found, a means of escape from this danger. I can not explain any further now, but you will soon know all."

Meanwhile the carriage had paused in front of the Rochaiguë mansion. The footman opened the door, and while Herminie hastened to Mlle. de Beaumesnil's apartments the hunchback went up to the baron's study, where he found that gentleman evidently expecting him, for he promptly advanced to meet him, displaying his long teeth with the most satisfied air imaginable.

The fact is, M. de la Rochaiguë, after reflecting on the marquis's offers,—and threats,—had decided to accept a proposal that would enable him to gratify his political ambition at last, and had consequently given his consent to this marriage under certain conditions that seemed incomprehensible to him,—M. de Maillefort not having deemed it advisable to inform the baron of the double character Mlle. de Beaumesnil had been playing.

"Well, my dear baron, has everything been satisfactorily arranged?" inquired the hunchback.

"Yes, my dear marquis. The interview is to take place here in my study, and, as this room is separated from the adjoining room only by a portière, everything that is said can be distinctly heard in there."

The marquis examined the two rooms for himself and then returned to M. de la Rochaiguë.

"This arrangement will suit perfectly, my dear baron. But tell me, did the inquiries you made in relation to M. Olivier Raymond prove entirely satisfactory?"

"I called on his old colonel in the African army this morning, and M. de Berville spoke of him in the highest possible terms."

"I was sure that he would, my dear baron, but I wished you to satisfy yourself, and from several different sources, of my protégé's irreproachable character."

"He possesses neither wealth nor rank, unfortunately," responded the baron, with a sigh, "but there doesn't seem to be the slightest doubt that he is an exceedingly honest and worthy young man."

"And what you have heard about him is nothing in comparison with what you will soon discover for yourself."

"What! is there still another mystery in store for me, my dear marquis?"

"Have a little patience, and an hour from now you will know all. By the way, I hope you haven't said a word to your wife or sister in regard to our plans?"

"How can you ask me such a question, my dear marquis? Am I not longing to have my revenge upon Helena and the baroness? Think of their deceiving me as they did! Each of them plotting to bring about a marriage between my ward and one of their protégés, and making me play the most ridiculous rôle. Ah, it will at least be some consolation to outwit them in my turn."

"No weakness, though, baron. Your wife openly boasts that she can make you do exactly as she pleases,—that she leads you around by the nose, in short,—excuse the expression."

"Well, well, we shall see! So she leads me around by the nose, does she?"

"I think we shall have to admit that she has, in days gone by."

"I admit nothing of the kind."

"But now you are a statesman, any such weakness would be unpardonable, for you no longer belong to yourself, and, apropos of this, did you see our delegates again?"

"We had another conference last evening. I talked to them two hours on the subject of an alliance with England."

The baron rose, and slipping his left hand in the bosom of his coat, and assuming his usual oratorical attitude, continued:

"I subsequently gave them my views upon the importation of horned cattle, and briefly expounded the principles of religious liberty as practised in Belgium; and I must admit that your electors seemed much pleased, to say the least."

"I don't doubt it. You must suit them wonderfully well. I am doing them a signal service, for they will find in you—all that is lacking in me."

"You are entirely too modest, my dear marquis."

"Quite the contrary, my dear baron; so as soon as Olivier's and Ernestine's marriage contract is signed, I shall resign my candidacy in your favour."

A servant, entering at this moment, announced that M. Olivier Raymond wished to see M. de la Rochaiguë.

"Ask M. Raymond to wait a moment," replied the baron, and the servant left the room.

"Now, baron, remember that this is a very important, as well as delicate, matter," said the marquis. "Do not forget any of my instructions, and, above all, do not evince any surprise at M. Raymond's answers, no matter how extraordinary they may appear. I will explain everything after your interview with him is over."

"It will be comparatively easy for me to show no surprise at anything I see or hear, marquis, inasmuch as I am very much in the dark with regard to the whole affair myself."

"You will be thoroughly enlightened soon, I tell you. But, by the way, be sure not to forget about the work M. Olivier did for the steward of the Château de Beaumesnil, near Luzarches."

"I shall not forget that, for I intend to introduce the subject in that way; and permit me to say that I am to start out with a colossal lie, my dear marquis."

"But, as this colossal lie is sure to bring out the truth in the most incontrovertible fashion, you need feel no scruples! You will certainly have no cause to regret it, either, for what is about to occur will be quite as much to your advantage as to that of Mlle. de Beaumesnil, perhaps. I am going to summon her now, and do not have M. Olivier ushered in until after you know that we are in the next room, remember."

"Oh, I understand all about that. Go at once, my dear marquis, and use the back stairs. It is the shortest way, and M. Olivier, who is waiting in the library, will not see you."

The marquis complied with these instructions, and soon found himself in Mlle. de Beaumesnil's apartments.

"Ah, M. de Maillefort," exclaimed Ernestine, her face radiant, and her eyes still filled with tears of joy, "Herminie has told me all. Her happiness seems certain to equal mine,—if mine is realised."

"Come quick, my child," exclaimed the hunchback. "M. Olivier is up-stairs now."

"Herminie can accompany me, can she not, M. de Maillefort? She will be near me to keep up my courage—"

"Your courage?"

"Yes, for now I confess that, in spite of myself, I am sorry that I consented to this test."

"But was not this test necessary to overcome Olivier's scruples, my dear child? Remember, too, that these scruples are probably the most dangerous obstacles you will have to overcome now."

"Alas! that is only too true," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, sadly.

"Then come, my child, come at once. Herminie shall accompany you. She must be the first to congratulate you."

"Or to console me," added Ernestine, unable to conquer her fears. "But it is better I should know my fate as soon as possible," she continued, resolutely. "Let us go up to my guardian's apartments at once, M. de Maillefort."

Three minutes afterwards, Ernestine, Herminie, and M. de Maillefort were in the baron's parlour, which was separated from his study only by a closely drawn portière, which the hunchback opened a little way in order to inform M. de la Rochaiguë that they were there.

"Very well," replied the baron.

He rang the bell.

"Show M. Olivier Raymond in," he said to the servant who answered the summons, and who almost immediately announced:

"M. Olivier Raymond, sir."

On hearing Olivier enter the adjoining room, Ernestine turned as pale as death, and, seizing with one hand the hand of Herminie, and with the other the hand of M. de Maillefort, she whispered, tremblingly:

"Oh, stay close by me, I entreat you. Do not leave me. Oh, my God, what a solemn moment this is!"

"Hush! Olivier is speaking," whispered M. de Maillefort; "let us listen. We must not miss a word."

And all three listened, with breathless anxiety, to the following conversation between Olivier and M. de la Rochaiguë.

When Olivier Raymond entered M. de la Rochaiguë's study, his face expressed astonishment, mingled with a lively curiosity.

The baron bowed courteously, and, after having motioned his visitor to a seat, inquired:

"Is it to M. Olivier Raymond that I have the honour of speaking?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"A second lieutenant in the Third Hussars?"

"The same, monsieur."

"From the letter I had the honour to write you, monsieur, you know that I am—"

"M. le Baron de la Rochaiguë, monsieur, though I have not the honour of your acquaintance. May I now inquire to what important personal matter you referred in your recent letter?"

"Certainly, monsieur. Pray be kind enough to give me your close attention, and, above all, not to be surprised at any singular, strange, and extraordinary facts which I may have the honour to communicate."

Olivier gazed at the baron with such evident astonishment that Mlle. de Beaumesnil's guardian cast an involuntary glance towards the portière, behind which Herminie, Ernestine, and M. de Maillefort were listening to the conversation.

"Monsieur," continued the baron, again turning to Olivier, "a few weeks ago you were at a château, near Luzarches, assisting a master mason, who had undertaken some repairs upon this property, in making his estimates."

"That is true, monsieur," replied Olivier, little suspecting the import of all this.

"After these estimates were finished, you remained several days to assist the steward in straightening up his accounts, did you not?"

"That is also true, monsieur."

"This château," resumed the baron, with an air of great importance, "belongs to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, the richest heiress in France."

"I was so informed during my stay there. But may I know the object of these questions?"

"In one moment, monsieur; but will you first oblige me by glancing over this document?"

And the baron took from his desk a folded paper and handed it to Olivier.

While the young man was hastily perusing this document, the baron said:

"You will see by this document, which is a certified copy of the deliberations of the family council, convoked after the death of the late Comtesse de Beaumesnil, you will see, I repeat, from this document, that I am the legally appointed guardian and trustee of Mlle. de Beaumesnil."

"I perceive so," replied Olivier, returning the document, "but I fail to see that this fact interests me in any way."

"It was of the utmost importance that you should be enlightened as to my legal, official, and judicial connection with Mlle. de Beaumesnil, in order that what I may have the honour to say to you on the subject of my ward will be invested with irresistible, unmistakable, and incontestable authority in your eyes."

This flow of words, monotonous and measured as the movements of a pendulum, was beginning to make Olivier all the more impatient, as he could not imagine whither all these grave preliminaries were tending.

In fact, he gazed at the baron with such a bewildered air that M. de la Rochaiguë said to himself:

"One might really suppose that I was talking Hebrew to him. He evinces so little emotion on hearing the name of Mlle. de Beaumesnil that one would suppose he did not even know her. What does all this mean? That cunning devil of a marquis was right when he told me that I must be prepared for very surprising developments."

"May I again inquire in what possible way the fact that you are, or are not, Mlle. de Beaumesnil's guardian interests me?" said Olivier, with ill-suppressed impatience.

"Now for the lie," the baron said to himself. "Let us see what effect it will have."

Then he added aloud:

"You made quite a long stay at the Château de Beaumesnil?"

"I did, as I told you some time ago," responded Olivier, with growing impatience.

"You probably were not aware that Mlle. de Beaumesnil was at the château at the same time that you were."

"Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"

"Yes, monsieur," replied the baron, imperturbably, satisfied that he was lying with true diplomatic ease and assurance; "yes, monsieur, Mlle. de Beaumesnil was at the château while you were there."

"But I was told that the young lady was in a foreign country, monsieur; besides, I saw no one at the château."

"That does not surprise me at all, monsieur. The fact is, Mlle. de Beaumesnil wished to spend the early days of her mourning for her mother at this château, and as she desired complete solitude, every one on the estate was requested to keep her arrival a profound secret."

"Then it is not strange that I should have been ignorant of it, particularly as I stayed in the house of the steward, quite a little distance from the château. But once more, let me ask—"

"I beg you will not be impatient, monsieur, but listen to me with the closest attention, for the matter to be considered is, I repeat, of the greatest, gravest, and highest importance to you."

"The man nearly drives me mad by his absurd and senseless repetitions!" Olivier mentally exclaimed. "What on earth is he driving at? What possible interest have I in Mlle. de Beaumesnil and her château?"

"The master mason by whom you were employed," continued the baron, suavely, "told our steward that the proceeds of the labour you imposed upon yourself during your leave were to be devoted to aiding your uncle, for whom you felt an almost filial affection."

"Good Heavens, monsieur, why should any importance be attached to such a trivial thing as that? Let us get at the facts of the case."

"The fact is just this, monsieur," resumed the baron, impressively, and with an almost solemn gesture, "your generous conduct towards your uncle was reported to Mlle. de Beaumesnil by her steward."

"Well, what if it was!" exclaimed Olivier, whose patience was now completely exhausted. "What is your object in apprising me of the fact?"

"My object is to let you know that mademoiselle is one of the noblest, best-hearted young ladies in the world, and, being such, is more keenly appreciative of generous acts in others than the majority of people; so when she heard of your devotion to your uncle, she was so touched by it that she desired to see you."

"See me?" repeated Olivier, incredulously.

"Yes, monsieur, my ward wished to see you, but without being seen by you; she was anxious, too, to hear you talk, and, with the aid of her steward, managed to act the part of an unseen auditor at several of your conversations, both with the steward and the master mason by whom you were employed. The strict integrity and nobility of your sentiments were so clearly revealed in these conversations, that my ward was as deeply impressed by your nobility of character as by your pleasing personal attributes, and—"

"Monsieur," interrupted Olivier, turning crimson, "I can scarcely believe that a man of your age and position could find any amusement in such unseemly jesting, and yet I do not suppose for one moment that you are speaking seriously."

"I had the honour, monsieur, to submit for your inspection the documentary evidence that I am Mlle. de Beaumesnil's legally appointed guardian in order that you might give full credence to my words. I subsequently warned you that what I had to say might appear singular, strange, even extraordinary to you, and you surely can not suppose that a man of my age, position, and social prominence would feel any inclination to trifle with the sacred interests entrusted to him or to make as honourable a young man as yourself the victim of a practical joke."

"So be it, monsieur," replied Olivier, pacified by this assurance on the part of the baron, "I confess I was wrong to suppose, even for an instant, that you were capable of such a thing, and yet—"

"Once again will you kindly allow me to remind you of my warning that I had some very extraordinary things to impart," said the baron, again interrupting Olivier. "Now, with your permission, I will proceed with my explanation. Mlle. de Beaumesnil is sixteen years of age. She is the richest heiress in France, consequently," added the baron, emphasising the words strongly and giving Olivier a meaning look, "consequently she need not trouble herself in the least about the pecuniary condition of the man she will choose for a husband. She desires, above all, to marry a man who pleases her, and who she feels will assure her future happiness. As regards his name and social position, provided his name and social position are honourable and honoured, Mlle. de Beaumesnil is content. Do you understand me at last, monsieur?"

"I have listened to you with the closest attention, M. le baron. I understand perfectly that Mlle. de Beaumesnil intends to marry to her own liking, without much, or, indeed, any regard to the rank and pecuniary condition of the man of her choice. She is perfectly right, I think; but why should I be told all this,—I, who have never met Mlle. de Beaumesnil in my life, and who probably never shall?"

"I have told you this, M. Olivier Raymond, because Mlle. de Beaumesnil is persuaded that in you are united all the attributes she most desires in a husband; so, after having made the most careful inquiries concerning you,—with results which were most flattering to yourself, I must admit,—I, as the guardian of Mlle. de Beaumesnil, am deputised, authorised, and commissioned to offer you her hand in marriage."

The baron might have gone on a good while longer without any interruption from Olivier.

Though the latter was astounded by what he had just heard, he could no longer suppose that this was a hoax on the part of M. de la Rochaiguë, who, in spite of his absurd flights of oratory, was really a grave, dignified man, with perfect manners.

On the other hand, how could he believe,—without an immense amount of conceit, and conceit was not one of Olivier's besetting sins, by any means,—how could he believe that the richest heiress in France had so suddenly lost her heart to him?

A minute or two passed before Olivier spoke. When he did, it was to say:

"I am sure you will excuse my silence and my bewilderment, monsieur, as you, yourself, fully realised that you had some very extraordinary revelations to make—"

"Do not hurry yourself in the least, monsieur. Take plenty of time to recover yourself, for I can very easily understand the mental agitation such a proposition must excite. I should add, however, that Mlle. de Beaumesnil knows perfectly well that you cannot accept her offer until after you have seen her and made her acquaintance. So, if you desire it, I will present you to my ward, and it is my earnest desire that you will both find in your mutual acquaintance a guaranty, hope, and certainty of future happiness."

After which peroration, the baron said to himself:

"Thank Heaven, that is over! Now, I shall discover the answer to this enigma which seems more and more incomprehensible every minute."

Up to this time, Mlle. de Beaumesnil, Herminie, and the hunchback had listened to the conversation in breathless silence. Herminie now understood for the first time the twofold object of the test to which M. de Maillefort had felt it necessary to subject Olivier; but Ernestine, in spite of her confidence in the nobility of the young officer's character, was in torture, as she awaited Olivier's reply to the baron's dazzling offer. The temptation, alas! was so great. How few persons would be able to resist it! Was there any living man who would not forget or ignore a promise made to an unattractive, penniless, and friendless girl, and eagerly embrace the opportunity to acquire colossal wealth?

"Mon Dieu! I tremble, in spite of myself," murmured Ernestine. "The renunciation we expect of M. Olivier is above human strength, perhaps. Alas! alas! why did I consent to this test?"

"Courage, my child," whispered the hunchback, "think only of the happiness and admiration you will feel if Olivier realises our expectations. But hush, he is going to reply."

With a half frenzied movement, Ernestine threw herself into Herminie's arms, and it was thus that the two girls, trembling with fear and hope, awaited Olivier's answer.

The young man could no longer doubt that this most remarkable offer had been made in all seriousness; but unable to explain it on the ground of personal merit,—for Olivier was an extremely modest man,—he attributed it to one of those caprices not uncommon in romantic young persons whose exorbitant wealth places them in an exceptional position,—caprices which in many cases amount to positive eccentricity.

"Monsieur," Olivier began, in a firm voice, after quite a long silence, "though the proposition you have just made to me is so strange, so entirely beyond the bounds of possibility, I might almost say, I give you my word of honour that, inexplicable as it seems to me, I believe in its sincerity."

"You can, monsieur, that is the important thing; that is all I ask of you."

"I do, and I shall make no attempt to fathom the incomprehensible reasons which led Mlle. de Beaumesnil to think of me even for an instant."

"Pardon me, but I have already explained these reasons, monsieur."

"Though I am not particularly modest, these reasons seem to me far from adequate; besides, I have no right to avail myself of this too flattering offer, for—for it is impossible for me—I will not say to accept Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand—such an important act must necessarily depend upon a thousand unforeseen contingencies, but to—"

"I give you my word of honour, monsieur, that it depends only upon yourself," said the baron, in such grave tones that Olivier could not fail to be deeply impressed, "understand me, upon yourself, absolutely and entirely. And, if you desire it, I will introduce you to the young lady before an hour has elapsed. It will then be impossible for you to feel the slightest doubt in regard to—to the sincerity of the offer I have just made you."

"I believe you, monsieur, as I said before. I only wish to say that it is impossible for me to even consider the proposition you have been so kind as to make to me."

The baron was astounded now in his turn.

"What, monsieur, you refuse?" he exclaimed. "But no, I cannot have heard you aright. It is impossible that you should be so blind as not to see the immense advantages of such a marriage."

"Then I must endeavour to be more explicit, monsieur. I positively decline your offer, while acknowledging that Mlle. de Beaumesnil's kind intentions are entirely too flattering to me."

"You decline—the richest heiress in France. You treat Mlle. de Beaumesnil's unheard-of concessions with disdain."

"Pardon me," exclaimed Olivier, hastily interrupting him. "I told you just now how deeply honoured I felt by your proposition, so I should be truly inconsolable if you interpreted my refusal as in any respect uncomplimentary to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, whom I have not the honour of knowing."

"But I have offered you an opportunity to make her acquaintance."

"That would be useless, monsieur. I do not doubt Mlle. de Beaumesnil's merits in the least, but as I should tell you all under the circumstances, I am not free. My heart and my honour are alike pledged."