After walking about for some time in the streets near Place Royale, LÉodgard said to himself:

"That Ambroisine probably has left the square now; she has taken the child home, to tell Bathilde what she saw; so that I may safely return to the place appointed; for it is not yet two o'clock, and if that girl should go there and not find me, Valentine's pride would be offended, and who can say that all hope would not be lost?"

The count returned to the place he had just left; but he advanced more cautiously now, looking all about and scrutinizing everybody who passed. His premonitions proved accurate; Ambroisine, with the child and her nurse, had returned to the HÔtel de Marvejols.

The count did not take his place on the same bench, however, and he constantly rose to walk a little and look about him.

He had been thus engaged for about half an hour, and his increasing impatience had nearly led him to leave the square, when a girl coming slowly along Rue des Tournelles, who had observed LÉodgard's restless movements, approached him and stopped, with every sign of intense agitation.

"You are the person whom I have been expecting, doubtless?" said the count, closely observing the girl, whose eyes assumed a strange expression as she looked at him.

Miretta, for it was she who had stopped in front of LÉodgard, replied in a faltering voice, and as if under the influence of a secret terror:

"You are—Comte—LÉodgard de Marvejols?"

"Yes, I am he; and you are sent by the lady who wrote me to be on this square?"

"Yes, seigneur, yes—I come from her."

"But what is the matter with you, girl? Your voice trembles—you seem to be intensely agitated. Can any misfortune have happened to your mistress? have you a sad message to transmit to me? In heaven's name, speak! This perturbation of yours is not natural."

"Mon Dieu! seigneur, I do not know myself why I tremble so, why my body is suddenly bathed in cold perspiration. I have no misfortune to announce—on the contrary, my message cannot fail to be agreeable to you. But when I saw you, when I stopped in front of you, I felt a strange oppression; I do not know what took place within me; it seemed to me that I was dying."

"Control yourself; you must have walked too fast—and an attack of dizziness—— But you seem to be better already?"

"Yes, seigneur, yes; it is passing away."

"Then you will perhaps deliver your message, and tell me——"

"That if you wish to see my mistress, she can accord you a few moments this evening."

"If I wish to see her! Why, is it not my most earnest desire, my dearest hope? What am I to do to obtain that favor?"

"Simply come to the house; but you will say to the concierge, whom I will be careful to notify in advance, that you wish to see me. Once in the courtyard, go to the rear, and on the right you will see a narrow servants' staircase; go up to the second floor, and you will find me."

"And the marchioness?"

"She will be in my room; she will come there by a secret passage communicating with her apartment."

"Very good. But does she not fear that the marquis will ask for her—that he may go to her apartment?"

"Everything is provided for; this evening monsieur le marquis goes to a large reception; madame has feigned an indisposition as a pretext for not accompanying him. The only danger to be feared is that monsieur le marquis may return too early—but that will not deter monsieur le comte, I presume?"

"Nothing can deter me when it is a matter of seeing your beautiful mistress. I ask these questions, I assure you, solely in the interest of the marchioness. For my own part, I would joyfully encounter the greatest perils to prove my love for her."

"This evening, then, seigneur, at nine."

"Good.—But one moment—you forget the most essential point; if I am to ask for you, it is indispensable that I should know your name, and you have not told me that."

"Pardon, monsieur le comte, I thought that my mistress had told you. Well, you will say to the concierge: 'I am going to see Miretta.'"

"Miretta!" faltered LÉodgard, to whose mind the young lady's-maid's name seemed to recall a painful memory; and a sudden change took place in his expression.

"Yes, seigneur, my name is Miretta," replied the pretty brunette, who had observed the magical effect which her name produced on the count, and wished to know the cause of it. "Does my name remind you of anyone whom you have known?"

"No—no—no one," stammered LÉodgard, who, as he strove to recover his self-possession, scrutinized the girl with peculiar attention. "Have you been long in the Marquise de Santoval's service?"

"I entered Mademoiselle de Mongarcin's service on my arrival in Paris, more than three years ago. I had a letter of recommendation for mademoiselle."

"Ah! and you came——"

"I came from Italy; I was reared in the outskirts of Milan."

LÉodgard's features contracted still more, but in an instant he rejoined hurriedly:

"This evening at nine o'clock; I will be prompt. Assure your mistress of the zeal with which I shall fly to her."

As he spoke, LÉodgard slipped a purse into Miretta's hand, then walked away before she had time to realize his action.

The girl gazed with a feeling of repugnance at the purse the count had put in her hand, and said to herself:

"Why does he give me this money? Does he think, I wonder, that I need it to induce me to obey my mistress, to serve her faithfully? From her I may properly accept the wages that I earn, but I wish for nothing from others. I do not know why this young nobleman arouses a sort of secret antipathy in my heart. I cannot understand what took place within me when my eyes first beheld him;—all my blood rushed back to my heart. And yet, I do not know the man. How is it that his expression changed when I told him my name?—Oh! I detected his emotion! He shuddered; one would have said that I frightened him! It is certain that it was not the first time that he had heard the name Miretta. Perhaps it reminded him of some other poor girl whom he seduced and then deserted!—But this purse weighs upon me; I do not propose to keep it; it seems to me that it burns me.—Ah! I know what I can do with it."

A little beggar was passing through the square; Miretta ran to him and thrust into the little fellow's hand the purse filled with glistening gold pieces.

"This is for you," she said; then she hurried away and disappeared, leaving the boy utterly dumfounded by the fortune that had come to him; but it was the same child to whom Blanche had given alms a few moments before, and the alms of an angel should bring him good luck.

Miretta returned at once to the HÔtel de Santoval, and went straight to her mistress; having assured herself that no one could hear them, she said:

"Your errand is done, madame."

"You have seen the count?"

"Yes, madame; he was waiting on Place Royale. He will be here this evening, at nine o'clock."

"You told him what direction he must take to reach your room?"

"Yes, madame.—Oh! he will not go astray."

"Did he seem very happy on receiving the appointment?"

"Oh, yes!—He would be glad, he said, to defy a thousand dangers to see madame."

"Well! we will afford him that pleasure.—You had never seen LÉodgard, Miretta; is he not a charming cavalier?"

"Why, yes, madame; he is well favored."

"You say that as if you thought just the opposite!"

"Mon Dieu! madame, the fact is, that, although monsieur le comte is a handsome gentleman, I—I do not like his face."

"You are hard to please, Miretta!"

"But—but I inferred—I thought from what madame had said to me, that monsieur le comte had ceased to please her."

"I propose to have my revenge for the affront he put upon me! But that does not prevent me from doing him justice.—The rendezvous this evening will be without danger for him—at least, I think so; but I shall be very glad to see at my feet the man who refused to be my husband! I long to hear him make oaths of love, protestations of undying affection for me. I want him to curse the day on which he allowed me to become the wife of another man!"

"But, beware, madame!—Since you consider monsieur le comte so fascinating, are you not afraid that that feeling will triumph over your resentment, as you listen to his words of love?"

"Oh, no! no! I fear nothing!—Besides, you will stay with me, Miretta; you will not leave me."

On both sides the coming of night was awaited with impatience.

It came at last, and about eight o'clock the Marquis de Santoval went to his wife's apartment; she had feigned indisposition since the day before, and had remained in her room.

The marquis glanced about him for some time with an expression that was far from benevolent. He had never said a word to Valentine on the subject of the young clerk whom he had had cudgelled. Monsieur de Santoval was one of those men who do not speak for a mere suspicion, but who collect facts, and are terrible when they allow the storm to burst which they have long repressed in the depths of their hearts.

"Well, madame, how are you this evening?" he asked, as he seated himself beside his wife.

"Still about the same, monsieur; my head aches, and I feel languid; I must have a touch of fever.—See, feel my pulse."

"I know nothing of such matters, madame," replied the marquis; and he did not touch the arm that his wife held out to him.

"Oh! that is a pity!"

"So you cannot come with me to the Duchesse de Brillac's?"

"You must realize that it is impossible, monsieur. In my opinion, one should not go into society looking as if one were bored and ill! You must make my excuses to the duchess."

"Yes, madame, yes. I am sorry to leave you not feeling well; and if I had not promised the duke——"

"I should be very sorry to have you deprive yourself of an agreeable evening because of a simple indisposition, entirely unattended by any danger.—I have Miretta, who will stay with me, who will not leave me."

"Your faithful maid. That girl is very much attached to you, is she not?"

"I think so; I have every reason to praise her zeal and her fidelity."

"And I think that she should congratulate herself on being in your service. She must be very happy here; and yet, I have noticed of late that she seems to be profoundly sad and depressed. A smile never appears on her lips. Have not you noticed it, madame?"

"Pardon me, monsieur; but as I know the cause of her melancholy, I overlook it."

"Ah! you know the cause of it?"

"Indeed, it is not difficult to guess: an unfortunate love affair; the man she loves has disappeared!"

"Very good; I see that you know your maid's secrets."

"The poor girl is alone in this country, without kindred or friends. Why should I not be interested in her?"

"You should, of course; and then, women are always compassionate for troubles of the heart.—Well, madame, I go, with regret; take care of your health."

"He has suspicions!" said Valentine to herself, when the marquis had gone; "but what does it matter? I know the way to dispel them."

As the clock struck nine, a man enveloped in an ample cloak, and wearing a hat whose broad brim concealed a large part of his face, knocked at the gate of the hÔtel. He gave the Cerberus the name of Miretta, and was admitted; he crossed the courtyard and found on the right hand the narrow staircase, which he was about to venture upon although it was not lighted, when a small hand seized his and a voice said:

"Allow me to guide you, seigneur."

LÉodgard abandoned his hand; the one that held it was cold and trembling.

They went up two flights; a lamp stood in a corner of the second landing, and the count recognized Miretta in the person who had served as his guide.

She instantly dropped the hand she held, as if she were glad to escape at last from a painful necessity. Taking the lamp, she walked ahead; and LÉodgard was soon ushered into a dimly lighted room, where he saw the marchioness.

Valentine was seated on a sofa; her costume was entirely black, and imparted a certain solemnity to her noble and majestic figure.

At sight of LÉodgard she carefully repressed a thrill of joy which sought expression in her eyes, and tried to replace by a pleasant smile the gleam of triumph which passed over her face.

The count bowed low before her, and seated himself on a chair very near the sofa. He seized her hand before she gave him permission, and covered it with kisses; while incoherent words, which, however, accurately depicted his love and the perturbation of his senses, poured rapidly from his lips. But, happening to glance toward the end of the room, he saw Miretta sitting there, with her head sunk upon her breast, motionless as a statue. Thereupon LÉodgard's flow of words ceased, and, looking at Valentine, he asked her in an undertone:

"What is your maid doing here, pray?"

"Nothing; she is awaiting my orders."

"Do you not propose to order her to leave the room?"

"No, indeed! on the contrary, I told her to remain."

"Ah! I thought, madame, that you had taken pity on my torments and my love!"

"Is it not taking pity on you, pray, to accord you this rendezvous—to consent to listen to you?—Upon my word, men are never satisfied!"

"But one dares not speak of love before a third person."

"Why not, when that third person is in our confidence and privy to all our secrets?"

"A tÊte-À-tÊte with you would have been so sweet to me!"

"Before granting a tÊte-À-tÊte, it is necessary to know one's mind; and one must be very sure of being loved!"

"Can you doubt it?"

"More than any other woman, I am justified in doubting it, when it is you who tell me so.—Really, monsieur le comte, your conduct is so extraordinary—it is now so directly opposed to what it has been, that at times I can place no faith in your words, and I ask myself if it is really you, Comte LÉodgard de Marvejols, who sit here beside me, talking to me of love!—So it was necessary that I should become another man's wife, to arouse in you this longing to love me and to tell me that you love me!—You must agree that that is quite unique, to say the least!"

There was a suggestion of irony in Valentine's tone as she said this, which would have offended LÉodgard if he had been less in love; but he thought of nothing but compelling the marchioness to revise the judgment she had pronounced, and to forget the doubts she still felt.

Skilful in the art of seducing, eloquent when he really loved, tender and ardent by turns in his language, LÉodgard knew the road to a woman's heart. Valentine was already listening to him with secret emotion; her eyes expressed that dreamy languor which denotes disturbance in the heart; when Miretta, who had been watching her mistress closely for some time, suddenly sprang to her feet, crying:

"People in the courtyard—I heard the gate close! It must be monsieur le marquis!"

"Ah! I must return to my apartment!" cried Valentine; "so that it may not be known that I have left it!—Miretta will show you the way out.—Adieu!"

"You leave me, madame; and I have no idea when I shall see you again!"

"I will let you know. Adieu!"

Valentine disappeared before LÉodgard could say another word. He put on his cloak, wrapped it about him, and followed Miretta in obedience to a sign from her. The girl walked swiftly across the courtyard and knocked on the concierge's window, calling:

"Open the gate; I am going out."

The gate opened, and LÉodgard alone went out; Miretta hastened back to her mistress, who said as soon as she saw her:

"You were mistaken, Miretta; the marquis has not returned. I have just asked Joseph. No one came in."

"I know it, madame; pray forgive me, but I listened to that gentleman's words, and I saw how moved you were. I was afraid for you—and for your revenge."

"Perhaps you did well, Miretta; yes, this LÉodgard is very dangerous. However, he shall not cause me to forget the past. You may leave me now; I need rest."

Miretta left her mistress and returned to her own room, engrossed by the events of the day, unable to account for the feeling of repulsion which the handsome Comte de Marvejols inspired in her, and regretting perhaps that the gallant had succeeded in making his exit without any unpleasant encounter.

But, although no one had appeared in the courtyard when LÉodgard went out, there was watching on the street, within twenty-five yards of the hÔtel, in a corner formed by two houses, a man with orders to take notice of everybody who went into or out of the HÔtel de Santoval.