Accustomed to the superb equipages of the Chalusse establishment, Mademoiselle Marguerite did not consider the much-lauded brougham at all remarkable. At the most, it was very showy, having apparently been selected with a view to attracting as much attention as possible. Madame de Fondege was not in a mood to consider an objection that morning. She was evidently in a nervous state of mind, extremely restless and excited indeed, it seemed impossible for her to keep still. In default of something better to do, she visited at least a dozen shops, asking to see everything, finding everything frightful, and purchasing without regard to price. It might have been fancied that she wished to buy all Paris. About ten o’clock she dragged Marguerite to Van Klopen’s. Received as a habituee of the establishment, thanks to the numerous orders she had given within the past few days, she was even allowed to enter the mysterious saloon in which the illustrious ruler of Fashion served such of his clients as had a predilection for absinthe or madeira. On leaving the place, and before entering the carriage again, Madame de Fondege turned to Marguerite and inquired: “Where shall we go now? I have given the servants an ‘outing’ on account of the workmen, and we cannot breakfast at home. Why can’t we go to a restaurant, we two? Many of the most distinguished ladies are in the habit of doing so. You will see how people will look at us! I am sure it will amuse you immensely.” “Ah! madame, you forget that it is not a fortnight since the count’s death!” Madame de Fondege was about to make an impatient reply, but she mastered the impulse, and in a tone of hypocritical compassion, exclaimed: “Poor child! poor, dear child! that’s true. I had forgotten. Well, such being the case, we’ll go and ask Baroness Trigault to give us our breakfast. You will see a lovely woman.” And addressing the coachman she instructed him to drive to the Trigault mansion in the Rue de la Ville l’Eveque. When Madame de Fondege’s brougham drew up before the door, the baron was standing in the courtyard with a cigar between his teeth, examining a pair of horses which had been sent him on approbation. He did not like his wife’s friend, and he usually avoided her. But precisely because he was acquainted with the General’s crime and Pascal’s plans, he thought it politic to seem amiable. So, on recognizing Madame de Fondege through the carriage window, he hastened forward with outstretched hand to assist her in alighting. “Did you come to take breakfast with us?” he asked. “That would be a most delightful----”