“Ah! you gave me a terrible fright; see how I tremble.” But the worthy lady’s fright was as nothing in comparison with the curiosity that tortured her. It was so powerful, indeed, that she could not control it. “What has happened?” she asked. “Nothing, madame, nothing.” “But----” “I am subject to such attacks. I was very cold, and the heat of the room made me feel faint.” Although she could only speak with the greatest difficulty, the baron realized by her tone that she would never reveal what had taken place, and his attitude and relief knew no bounds. “Don’t tire the poor child,” he said to Madame de Fondege. “The best thing you can do would be to take her home and put her to bed.” “I agree with you; but unfortunately, I have sent away my brougham with orders not to return for me until one o’clock.” “Is that the only difficulty? If so, you shall have a carriage at once, my dear madame.” So saying, the baron made a sign to one of the servants, and the man started on his mission at once. Madame de Fondege was silent but furious. “He is actually putting me out of doors,” she thought. “This is a little too much! And why doesn’t the baroness make her appearance--she must certainly have heard my voice? What does it all mean? However, I’m sure Marguerite will tell me when we are alone.” But Madame de Fondege was wrong, for she vainly plied the girl with questions all the way from the Rue de la Ville l’Eveque to the Rue Pigalle. She could only obtain this unvarying and obstinate reply: “Nothing has happened. What do you suppose could have happened?” Never in her whole life had Madame de Fondege been so incensed. “The blockhead!” she mentally exclaimed. “Who ever saw such obstinacy! Hateful creature!--I could beat her!” She did not beat her, but on reaching the house she eagerly asked: “Do you feel strong enough to go up stairs alone?” “Yes, madame.” “Then I will leave you. You know Van Klopen expects me again at one o’clock precisely; and I have not breakfasted yet. Remember that my servants are at your disposal, and don’t hesitate to call them. You are at home, recollect.” It was not without considerable difficulty--not without being compelled to stop and rest several times on her way up stairs--that Mademoiselle Marguerite succeeded in reaching the apartments of the Fondege family. “Where is madame?” inquired the servant who opened the door. “She is still out.” “Will she return to dinner?” “I don’t know.” “M. Gustave has been here three times already; he was very angry when he found that there was no one at home--he went on terribly. Besides, the workmen have turned everything topsy-turvy.”