“I knew that Hortense had left her husband, so here I am. Your Valerie, whom you believe to be a saint, is the cause of this miserable separation; can I remain with such a woman? Our poor little Hortense,” said she, touching the Baron’s arm, with peculiar meaning, “is perhaps the dupe of a wish of such women as these, who, to possess a toy, would sacrifice a family. “I do not think Wenceslas guilty; but I think him weak, and I cannot promise that he will not yield to her refinements of temptation.--My mind is made up. The woman is fatal to you; she will bring you all to utter ruin. I will not even seem to be concerned in the destruction of my own family, after living there for three years solely to hinder it. “You are cheated, Baron; say very positively that you will have nothing to say to the promotion of that dreadful Marneffe, and you will see then! There is a fine rod in pickle for you in that case.” Lisbeth lifted up Hortense and kissed her enthusiastically. “My dear Hortense, stand firm,” she whispered. The Baroness embraced Lisbeth with the vehemence of a woman who sees herself avenged. The whole family stood in perfect silence round the father, who had wit enough to know what that silence implied. A storm of fury swept across his brow and face with evident signs; the veins swelled, his eyes were bloodshot, his flesh showed patches of color. Adeline fell on her knees before him and seized his hands. “My dear, forgive, my dear!” “You loathe me!” cried the Baron--the cry of his conscience. For we all know the secret of our own wrong-doing. We almost always ascribe to our victims the hateful feelings which must fill them with the hope of revenge; and in spite of every effort of hypocrisy, our tongue or our face makes confession under the rack of some unexpected anguish, as the criminal of old confessed under the hands of the torturer. “Our children,” he went on, to retract the avowal, “turn at last to be our enemies--” “Father!” Victorin began. “You dare to interrupt your father!” said the Baron in a voice of thunder, glaring at his son. “Father, listen to me,” Victorin went on in a clear, firm voice, the voice of a puritanical deputy. “I know the respect I owe you too well ever to fail in it, and you will always find me the most respectful and submissive of sons.” Those who are in the habit of attending the sittings of the Chamber will recognize the tactics of parliamentary warfare in these fine-drawn phrases, used to calm the factions while gaining time.