“Well, then, Henri,” said Valerie, taking his two hands and looking straight into his eyes, “swear to me now, in the presence of Lisbeth, my best and only friend, my sister--that you will make me your wife at the end of my year’s widowhood.” “I swear it.” “That is not enough. Swear by your mother’s ashes and eternal salvation, swear by the Virgin Mary and by all your hopes as a Catholic!” Valerie knew that the Brazilian would keep that oath even if she should have fallen into the foulest social slough. The Baron solemnly swore it, his nose almost touching Valerie’s white bosom, and his eyes spellbound. He was drunk, drunk as a man is when he sees the woman he loves once more, after a sea voyage of a hundred and twenty days. “Good. Now be quite easy. And in Madame Marneffe respect the future Baroness de Montejanos. You are not to spend a sou upon me; I forbid it.--Stay here in the outer room; sleep on the sofa. I myself will come and tell you when you may move.--We will breakfast to-morrow morning, and you can be leaving at about one o’clock as if you had come to call at noon. There is nothing to fear; the gate-keepers love me as much as if they were my father and mother.--Now I must go down and make tea.” She beckoned to Lisbeth, who followed her out on to the landing. There Valerie whispered in the old maid’s ear: “My darkie has come back too soon. I shall die if I cannot avenge you on Hortense!” “Make your mind easy, my pretty little devil!” said Lisbeth, kissing her forehead. “Love and Revenge on the same track will never lose the game. Hortense expects me to-morrow; she is in beggary. For a thousand francs you may have a thousand kisses from Wenceslas.” On leaving Valerie, Hulot had gone down to the porter’s lodge and made a sudden invasion there. “Madame Olivier?” On hearing the imperious tone of this address, and seeing the action by which the Baron emphasized it, Madame Olivier came out into the courtyard as far as the Baron led her. “You know that if any one can help your son to a connection by and by, it is I; it is owing to me that he is already third clerk in a notary’s office, and is finishing his studies.” “Yes, Monsieur le Baron; and indeed, sir, you may depend on our gratitude. Not a day passes that I do not pray to God for Monsieur le Baron’s happiness.” “Not so many words, my good woman,” said Hulot, “but deeds----” “What can I do, sir?” asked Madame Olivier. “A man came here to-night in a carriage. Do you know him?”