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Updated: July 27, 2025
"Brazilian," said the old woman, "look out for your angel's carriage and servants." The Baron pointed out Valerie's carriage as they passed it. "She has told them to come for her at ten o'clock, and she is gone in a cab to the house where she visits Count Steinbock. She has dined there, and will come to the Opera in half an hour. It is well contrived!" said Madame Nourrisson.
"I tell you, Baron, I have far better proof than you can show." "Proofs! give me proof!" cried the Baron, almost crazy with exasperation. "Come, and you shall have them," said Crevel. And in obedience to Valerie's instructions, he led the Baron away towards the quay, down the Rue Hillerin-Bertin.
He was interested and excited; and Valerie's manners, which to-day flattered, and to-morrow piqued him, enlisted his vanity and pride on the side of his fancy.
"I do not yet know on what terms you have been with this so-called cousin whom you never mentioned to me," said the Baron, paying no heed to Valerie's interjection. "But when he came in I felt as if a penknife had been stuck into my heart. Blinded I may be, but I am not blind. I could read his eyes, and yours.
The baron was no longer a tender and compassionate father, but a ruthless and implacable tyrant. Valerie's life had been a purgatory before, it was a hell now.
Valerie's lips again moved, but this time quite inaudibly. The obligations of the figure now caused a pause. Alain racked his brains and began, "They tell me the last season was more than usually gay; of that I cannot judge, for it was well-nigh over when I came to Paris for the first time."
It was as if the Dowager's voice had opened the floodgates of her sorrow and let out the tears that hitherto had been repressed. The Marquise rose and waved the page and an attendant lackey from the room. She crossed to Valerie's side and put her arm about the girl's shoulder. "What ails you, child?" she asked.
In Imogen's whole bearing he read renouncement, but renouncement, in her hand, would assuredly prove a scourge for her mother's shoulders. For the time that they must be together, she and her mother, her sense of her own proved rightness would be relentless, as inflexible as and as relentless as her sense of bitter wrong. Valerie's shoulders were bared and bowed. She was ready to take it all.
Such imprudence could only have arisen from an absurd passion, blind and insensible, even to madness. So long as he was Valerie's lover, the count never thought of asking the return of his letters from his beloved accomplice. If the idea had occurred to him, he would have repelled it as an insult to the character of his angel. What reason could he have had to suspect her discretion? None.
Madame Marneffe's drawing-room was full of her faithful admirers, and she had just started the whist-tables, when the footman, a pensioned soldier recruited by the Baron, announced: "Monsieur le Baron Montes de Montejanos." Valerie's heart jumped, but she hurried to the door, exclaiming: "My cousin!" and as she met the Brazilian, she whispered: "You are my relation or all is at an end between us!
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