“It is impossible for me to do so; and if you have any kindness of heart, you do as I ask you; and I want you also to promise me not to say a word of this to any one.” Excited as she was by this mystery, Madame de Bois Arden did not ask another question. “I will do exactly what you want,” replied she, “and respect your secret. I would go at once, were it not that Bois Arden will never sit down to dinner without me; but the moment we have finished I will go.” “Thanks, a thousand times; and now I will go home and wait for news from you.” “Not at all,--you will remain here to dinner.” “I must,--I have a friend waiting for me.” “Do as you please, then,” returned the Viscountess, laughing. “I will send round a note this evening.” De Breulh pressed her hand, and hurried down, and was met by Andre at the door, for he had been unable to sit still in the carriage. “Keep up your courage. Madame de Bois Arden had not heard of Mademoiselle Sabine’s illness, and this looks as if it was not a very serious matter. We shall have the real facts in three hours.” “Three hours!” groaned Andre, “what a lapse of time!” “It is rather long, I admit; but we will talk of her while we wait, for you must stay and dine with me.” Andre yielded, for he had no longer the energy to contest anything. The dinner was exquisite, but the two men were not in a condition of mind to enjoy it, and scarcely consumed anything. Vainly did they endeavor to speak on indifferent subjects, and when the coffee had been served in the library, they relapsed into utter silence. As the clock struck ten, however, a knock was heard at the door, then whisperings, and the rustle of female attire, and lastly Madame de Bois Arden burst upon them like a tornado. “Here I am,” cried she. It was certainly rather a hazardous step to pay such a late visit to a bachelor’s house, but then the Viscountess de Bois Arden did exactly as she pleased. “I have come here, Gontran,” exclaimed she, with extreme vehemence, “to tell you that I think your conduct is abominable and ungentlemanly.” “Clotilde!” “Hold your tongue! you are a wretch! Ah! now I can see why you did not wish to write and inquire about poor Sabine. You well knew the effect that your message would have on her.” M. de Breulh smiled as he turned to Andre and said,-- “You see that I was right in what I told you.” This remark for the first time attracted Madame de Bois Arden’s attention to the fact that a stranger was present, and she trembled lest she had committed some grave indiscretion. “Gracious heavens!” exclaimed she, with a start, “why, I thought that we were alone!” “This gentleman has all my confidence,” replied M. de Breulh seriously; and as he spoke he laid his hand upon Andre’s shoulder. “Permit me to introduce M. Andre to you, my dear Clotilde; he may not be known to-day, but in a short time his reputation will be European.”