This was said to me, and proved that Frédérique knew all. "He went to Monsieur Sordeville's," she continued, "and there, in the middle of the salon, before all the guests, he called him a spy and struck him! Imagine the uproar, the amazement, the confusion, of all those people, who were thoroughly ashamed to be there; for Monsieur Sordeville turned pale, and did not say a word or return the blow. Poor Armantine fainted, and they carried her to her room. Thereupon the guests all took their hats and fled, assuring the master of the house that they didn't believe a word of what had been said, but fully determined never to go there again. On the next day, Armantine took refuge with me. I dictated the following plainly worded letter, which she sent to her husband: * * * * * "'You have deceived me shamefully, monsieur. I leave you, and I lay aside your name. You will never hear of me again, and I trust that I may never hear of you.' "That is what Armantine wrote to him. You must agree, Rochebrune, that we are not very fortunate in our husbands, either of us!" Poor Frédérique! She did not know how truly she spoke. "Now, messieurs, it's all over. The Sordeville family has ceased to exist. Nobody knows what has become of the man, and nobody cares very much. Probably he is still carrying on his profession, on his own account. As to Armantine, luckily she has about eighteen hundred francs a year which her husband cannot touch. She will live on that, in the retreat she has chosen; she will cut less of a figure and not change her gown so often; but perhaps she will be happier." As she said that, Frédérique fixed her eyes on me for a moment, then continued: "I hope, messieurs, that you will forgive me now for advising you both to stay away from Monsieur Sordeville's?" "That is to say, madame, that we owe you our warmest thanks." "Ach! ja! and I haf te note in your hand; id is alvays here--on my heart." "You do me too much honor, baron," said Madame Dauberny, with a smile; "and I am quite sure that everybody doesn't do as you have done." I would have been glad to be rid of the baron, for I had many questions to ask Frédérique. I do not know whether she divined my thought, but she ordered her coachman to drive back to Paris. "I will not abuse your good nature any longer, messieurs," she said. "I carried you both away rather unceremoniously; and perhaps somebody is impatiently awaiting you." "No; I am not avaited at all," said the baron; "I am te master of my time." "Where were you going, baron?" Frédérique asked, as if she had not heard what he said. "Montame--I vas going--I know not--I vas going novere." "But as I am going somewhere, I will set you down at your hotel, then I will take Monsieur Rochebrune home."