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I understand the business pretty well, for, as I told you, I know Mlle. Ermelin, who is a friend of Jerome Vignal's and also knows Madame de Gorne. Do you suppose ...?" "I don't want to suppose anything. I simply declare that some one came there last night...." "By which way? The only tracks of a person coming towards the manor are those of M. de Gorne."
For forty-eight hours his mind had been taxed beyond measure, his nerves had been wrought up to an almost intolerable degree of exaltation. As soon as he closed his eyes, it was with a merciless precision that his imagination presented to him all the events which had taken place since that afternoon in the Place-Royale when he had ventured to declare his love to Mlle. Gilberte.
But he loves her also, his scruples weaken and, as Mlle. de Saint-Veran refuses to be touched by a love that offends her, as she relaxes her visits when they become less necessary, as she ceases them entirely on the day when he is cured desperate, maddened by grief, he takes a terrible resolve.
This last suggestion relieved Claude's apprehension that he might be left alone with his hostess. When David called him and presented him to the ladies, Mlle. Claire gave him a quick handshake, and said she would be very glad to try him out on the court as soon as she had beaten David.
You had but to question me, I would have answered you frankly, 'Yes, it is true I love Mlle. Gilberte; and before a month she will be Marquise de Tregars." Mme. de Thaller, at those words, had started to her feet, pushing back her arm-chair so violently, that it rolled all the way to the wall. "What!" she exclaimed, "you marry Gilberte Favoral, you!" "I yes."
Thereupon Stuart related as briefly as possible the mysterious episode of the cowled man, and finally gave an account of the last visit of Mlle. Dorian. Inspector Dunbar did not interrupt him, but listened attentively to the singular story. "And there," concluded Stuart, "on the blotting-pad, lies the sealed envelope!" Dunbar took it up eagerly.
"But who is die prite?" "She is Mlle. Graff, the daughter of our host, the landlord of the Hotel du Rhin. I have loved Mlle. Emilie these seven years; she has read so many immoral novels, that she refused all offers for me, without knowing what might come of it. She will be a very wealthy young lady; her uncles, the tailors in the Rue de Richelieu, will leave her all their money.
The young girl was touched, and raising herself in bed, flung her arms about the old lady. "What a dear you are, and how I love you!" Mlle. Frahender at that moment had her reward for all the little sacrifices she had made for her pupil.
The more beautiful young women who removed themselves from Paris before the Boche entered it the simpler would be the task of the men forced to remain. It was serious enough that her even more beautiful sister had elected to remain with her husband, whose duties forbade him to flee. Go, Mademoiselle, and go quickly. Mlle. Thompson yielded but she made no precipitate flight.
And, bouncing to the piano, she began an accompaniment loud enough to crack the window-panes, singing at the same time the popular refrain of the "Young Ladies of Pautin": Cashier, you've got the bag; Quick on your little nag, And then, ho, ho, for Belgium! Any one but Marius de Tregars would have been doubtless strangely surprised at Mlle. de Thaller's manners.
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