“I do not understand,” she faltered. “Why do you look at me like that?” De Breulh, who had been pacing up and down the room, suddenly halted in front of the Viscountess. “My dear Clotilde,” said he, “I am sure when I tell you that the tongue of scandal has often been busy with your name, I am telling you nothing new.” “Pooh!” answered the Viscountess. “What do I care for that?” “But I always defended you. You are indiscreet--your presence here tonight shows this; but you are, after all, a true woman,--brave and true as steel.” “What do you mean by this exordium, Gontran?” “This, Clotilde,--I want to know if I dare venture to intrust to you a secret which involves the honor of two persons, and, perhaps, the lives of more.” “Thank you, Gontran,” answered she calmly. “You have formed a correct judgment of me.” But here Andre felt that he must interpose, and, taking a step forward, said, “Have you the right to speak?” “My dear Andre,” said De Breulh, “this is a matter in which my honor is as much concerned as yours. Will you not trust me?” Then turning to the Viscountess, he added, “Tell us all you heard.” “It is only something I heard from Modeste. You had hardly left the house, when the Baron de Clinchain made his appearance.” “An eccentric old fellow, a friend of the Count de Mussidan’s. I know him.” “Just so; well, they had a stormy interview, and at the end of it, the Baron was taken ill, and it was with difficulty that he regained his carriage.” “That seems curious.” “Wait a bit. After that Octave and his wife had a terrible scene together, and Modeste thinks that her mistress must have heard something, for the Count’s voice rang through the house like thunder.” Every word that the Viscountess uttered strengthened De Breulh’s suspicions. “There is something mysterious in all this, Clotilde,” said he, “as you will say when you know the whole truth,” and, without omitting a single detail, he related the whole of Sabine and Andre’s love story. Madame de Bois Arden listened attentively, sometimes thrilled with horror, and at others pleased with this tale of innocent love. “Forgive me,” said she, when her cousin had concluded; “my reproaches and accusations were equally unfounded.” “Yes, yes; never mind that; but I am afraid that there is some hidden mystery which will place a fresh stumbling-block in our friend Andre’s path.” “Do not say that,” cried Andre, in terror. “What is it?” “That I cannot tell; for Mademoiselle de Mussidan’s sake, I have withdrawn all my pretensions to her hand,--not to leave the field open to any other intruder, but in order that she may be your wife.” “How are we to learn what has really happened?” asked the Viscountess. “In some way or other we shall find out, if you will be our ally.” Most women are pleased to busy themselves about a marriage, and the Viscountess was cheered to find herself mixed up in so romantic a drama.