When the Marquise, her daughter-in-law, and grandson left the salon, a servant attached especially to the service of the Vicomte approached.

"Madame la Vicomtesse," said Cyprien, "my master wishes to see you; he is in his chamber."

"Go, my child," interposed the Marquise, "but leave the boy with me, for I hate to be alone in these rooms which are drearier than a cloister."

The Vicomtesse de Talizac was of Austrian origin, and concealed under an air of languid indifference the most boundless ambition. Her large eyes were light and generally without expression, but on occasion they grew dark and flashed fire.

She had married the Vicomte de Talizac with the idea that she would thus obtain a high position at the French Court, knowing well moreover that the immense fortune of the Fongereueses would ensure her princely luxury. The Vicomtesse was both proud and avaricious, and her nature rebelled at the smallest check to her secret aspirations. Her only son came into the world hopelessly deformed, but his mother adored him to whom Nature had given neither physical nor moral beauty. She labored to make him as selfish and indifferent as herself. She determined that as he grew to man's estate, he should be feared rather than pitied, and to do this it was necessary that he should be immensely rich. He was taught from his cradle to hate France. When his mother saw that the hour of triumph for the emigrÉs, the traitors, was near at hand, she was filled with bitter joy.

None of these people realized the work that had been going on for twenty years, and had little idea of the changes that had taken place. They ignored them all, and were only anxious to restore everything to the old condition.

The Vicomte de Talizac and his wife were especially eager for these results. There was but one shadow on their brilliant future. The fortune of the Vicomte had nearly gone—the fortune of the Fongereues family remained, but the Vicomte was well aware that his father had contracted an early marriage, and that of this union a son was born, with whom, to be sure, the old Marquis seemed to have broken entirely, but of late de Talizac began to realize that the father's love had outlived this separation; and, moreover, indulged in no possible delusion in regard to himself; he did not love his father, and knew that his father did not love him. Madame de Fongereues was also well aware of the tender reverence in which Simonne was held by the Marquis, and was convinced that the peasant's son was not forgotten.

Where was Simon? Were he to appear it would be ruin for the Vicomte. When Magdalena fully realized this, she snatched her son in her arms, and said to his father:

"If you are not weak and childish, this Simon will never despoil our son!"

De Talizac understood her.

We resume our recital at the moment when the Vicomtesse entered her husband's room, where he was lying on the couch. He signed to her to close the door. The Marquis was the living image of his mother, except that her beautiful regular features became in his face bony and repulsive.

"Well?" said the Vicomtesse, going up to the couch.

"I am wounded," he answered. "The man escaped me."

His wife frowned.

"Really!" she said, "one might think that the Vicomte de Talizac was strong enough to conquer a lacquey!"

"Hush!" cried the Vicomte, his eyes flashing fire, "do you think that I require you to remind me of the shame of my defeat? I have been for days, as you well know, on the track of the hound. I hid by the wayside to-night, like a murderer, and I saw him press his hand to his breast as if to assure himself of the safety of some package which undoubtedly contained the secret so necessary to the safety of our future. By what miracle the fellow escaped, I can't divine. I saw him fall forward, but he suddenly fired at me—but I did at all events as I promised you to do—"

"I can only say that our son is ruined!"

"No, not yet; listen to me. Pierre is with my father at this moment; hasten and listen to the conversation."

"But he is locked in his room!"

"I know that, Magdalena. Raise that curtain; you will find a door which opens on a staircase in the wall; go down twenty steps, then stop, pass your hand over the wall until you feel a spring; press it, and it will open. You will find a small window concealed within the room by the carving, and you can hear every word that is spoken—"

"Very good; but your wound—"

"Is not of much consequence; but hasten, for your son's sake."

The Vicomtesse disappeared.

This explains the noise that had attracted the attention of the Marquis.

An hour later Magdalena returned to her husband. "I know enough," she said. "Your brother Simon is married—he has two sons, and lives in the village of Leigoutte."

A cruel smile wandered over the lips of the Vicomte.

"Ah! the invasion will then take that direction!"