The packing up progressed steadily, but the Countess still persisted in thinking that she would return to the Château again. Secretly Adrienne began to empty drawers and wardrobes and stow the contents away into travelling trunks, and meanwhile every post was watched for anxiously. Madame Bouverie haunted the place; she would push herself in on the merest pretext, and begin measuring furtively rooms and windows. "Ah, Mademoiselle," she said to Adrienne one day, "it will be a relief to your dear aunt to have the care of such a big place no longer. When one has not the money it is heartrending. We shall have to spend thousands on this place to make it habitable—thousands!" Adrienne had difficulty in giving a polite response. She knew it was of no use to argue with her, and pride forbade her to plead. At last things were in train for the Countess to leave for Orleans. And then one afternoon about three o'clock, Adrienne, who had been out in the garden gathering a few late roses, came into the Château to hear voices in the corridor upstairs. Pierre came forward with a troubled look upon his face: "It is Monsieur Bouverie with some gentleman from Paris. I think it is a foreign gentleman who wants to buy our Van Dyck." When Pierre was agitated, he would associate himself with the family he loved and served. The flush mounted into Adrienne's cheeks and fire into her eyes. Without a word, she sprang upstairs, and confronted a little group gathered round the famous picture. "May I ask what you are doing, Monsieur Bouverie?" She stood like a young queen before them, her voice haughty and cold, her eyes sparkling dangerously. "I have just brought a gentleman to see this picture," said Monsieur Bouverie, a little defiantly. [Illustration: She stood like a young queen before them, her voice haughty and cold. _Adrienne]_ _[Chapter XIII]_ "With the Countess's permission?" asked Adrienne. "Well, really, Mademoiselle, I told Pierre not to trouble her. It is not worth it. Mr. Bullivant from New York was only able to come to-day, otherwise I should not have brought him till next Tuesday." "This picture is not for sale, so I do not know why he should be brought here." Adrienne's tone was hard and cold. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle," said Monsieur Bouverie, an ugly gleam coming into his eyes, "this picture will be in my possession in two days' time; and as I intend to sell it, I am letting a possible purchaser see it now." "This picture will never be in your possession. It belongs to the Count de Beaudessert, and he is, as you know, at present away from home." There was a dead silence. Then the American said a little anxiously turning towards the notary: "Is there some misapprehension somewhere?"