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But the Count, who was usually most considerate of his friend's foibles, was not in a humor to listen to him. "Come, let us talk sense," said he sharply; "tell me what has occurred." "Occurred!" groaned De Clinchain; "oh, nothing, except that the whole truth is known regarding what took place in the little wood so many years back.
"A terrible calamity. Go back to your room, I beg of you. Your husband will be here presently;" and, as Octave appeared, he absolutely pushed her into her own room. Octave followed, and, extending his arms, pressed his wife closely to his breast, bursting as he did so into a passion of sobs. "Ah!" cried M. de Clinchain joyously, "he is saved. See, he weeps; I had feared for his reason."
This long course of thought had in some measure softened the bitterness of his wrath, and he was able to receive his old friend M. de Clinchain with some degree of calmness. He was not at all surprised at the receipt of the anonymous letter, indeed, he had expected that a blow would be struck in that direction.
M. de Clinchain was a thoroughly commonplace looking personage in face, figure, and dress, neither tall nor short, handsome nor ill-looking. The only noticeable point in his attire was that he wore a coral hand on his watch chain; for the Baron was a firm believer in the evil eye. When a young man, he was most methodical in his habits; and, as he grew older, this became an absolute mania with him.
"Before continuing the subject," he observed placidly, "I consider it necessary for you to understand the position taken up by the Baron de Clinchain. Do you wish, my lord, to read these extracts, or shall I do so for you?" "Read," answered the Count, adding in a lower voice, "I cannot see to do so." Mascarin drew his chair nearer to the lights on the table.
"The event to which I have alluded has two eye-witnesses, the Baron de Clinchain, and a servant, named Ludovic Trofin, now in the employ of the Count du Commarin." "I did not know what had become of Trofin." "Perhaps not, but my people do. When he swore to keep the matter secret, he was unmarried, but a few years later, having entered the bonds of matrimony, he told all to his young wife.
The hideous sight froze Diana with terror, and it was impossible for her to leave the window or quit the object on the litter, which seemed to have a terrible fascination for her. That very morning her husband, accompanied by his friend the Baron de Clinchain, Montlouis, and a servant named Ludovic, had gone out for a day's shooting.
A thousand curses on that idiotic habit of yours of putting on paper not only your own secrets, but those of others." But at this remark Clinchain mounted his hobby. "Do not talk like that," said he. "Had you not committed the act, it would not have appeared in my diary." Chilled to the very bone, and quivering like an aspen leaf, Sabine had listened to every word.
The lawyer will speak something to this effect: 'That the Count de Mussidan is clearly a murderer; that the Baron de Clinchain is a perjurer, as proved by his own handwriting; Ludovic has been tampered with, but my client, an honorable man, must not be classed with these, etc., etc. Have I made myself understood?"
You had hardly left the house, when the Baron de Clinchain made his appearance." "An eccentric old fellow, a friend of the Count de Mussidan's. I know him." "Just so; well, they had a stormy interview, and at the end of it, the Baron was taken ill, and it was with difficulty that he regained his carriage." "That seems curious." "Wait a bit.
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