The joy of triumph was not so effectually concealed on Rosalie’s face that the Vicar-General could not detect it. He affected to see nothing. “What can this girl have had to do with this business?” he asked himself. They all three returned to the drawing-room, where Monsieur de Watteville announced the strange, the extraordinary, the prodigious news of the lawyer’s departure, without any reason assigned for his evasion. By half-past eleven only fifteen persons remained, among them Madame de Chavoncourt and the Abbe de Godenars, another Vicar-General, a man of about forty, who hoped for a bishopric, the two Chavoncourt girls, and Monsieur de Vauchelles, the Abbe de Grancey, Rosalie, Amedee de Soulas, and a retired magistrate, one of the most influential members of the upper circle of Besancon, who had been very eager for Albert’s election. The Abbe de Grancey sat down by the Baroness in such a position as to watch Rosalie, whose face, usually pale, wore a feverish flush. “What can have happened to Monsieur de Savarus?” said Madame de Chavoncourt. At this moment a servant in livery brought in a letter for the Abbe de Grancey on a silver tray. “Pray read it,” said the Baroness. The Vicar-General read the letter; he saw Rosalie suddenly turn as white as her kerchief. “She recognizes the writing,” said he to himself, after glancing at the girl over his spectacles. He folded up the letter, and calmly put it in his pocket without a word. In three minutes he had met three looks from Rosalie which were enough to make him guess everything. “She is in love with Albert Savarus!” thought the Vicar-General. He rose and took leave. He was going towards the door when, in the next room, he was overtaken by Rosalie, who said: “Monsieur de Grancey, it was from Albert!” “How do you know that it was his writing, to recognize it from so far?” The girl’s reply, caught as she was in the toils of her impatience and rage, seemed to the Abbe sublime. “I love him!--What is the matter?” she said after a pause. “He gives up the election.” Rosalie put her finger to her lip. “I ask you to be as secret as if it were a confession,” said she before returning to the drawing-room. “If there is an end of the election, there is an end of the marriage with Sidonie.” * * * * * In the morning, on her way to Mass, Mademoiselle de Watteville heard from Mariette some of the circumstances which had prompted Albert’s disappearance at the most critical moment of his life. “Mademoiselle, an old gentleman from Paris arrived yesterday morning at the Hotel National; he came in his own carriage with four horses, and a courier in front, and a servant. Indeed, Jerome, who saw the carriage returning, declares he could only be a prince or a _milord_.” “Was there a coronet on the carriage?” asked Rosalie.