Michel contrived to direct the subject of conversation to the career of Nadejda Doorova, the Russian girl who had fought throughout the war as a Cossack soldier. Henri had not heard of her and displayed but little interest in her adventures. "Bah!" he said, "she is an eccentric. It is the kind of thing old Pierre Dupré would have liked his daughters to do; old Pierre is mad. A woman must be wanting in modesty to unsex herself thus." "Oh!" exclaimed Michel involuntarily; his heart sank. "Let us be just to her," he murmured; "who knows, she may have had some good reason of which we know nothing, this Nadejda; her lover, maybe, went to the war and she could not bear to be parted." "That would perhaps excuse her to a certain extent," said Henri wearily. He was not in the least interested in the conversation. In despair, Louise tried another tack. She had determined to come to an understanding this day, nothing could be done without risk. "D'Estreville--will you promise not to be angry if I make a communication to you--it is about Louise Dupré?" Henri was all attention in a moment. "About Louise?" he repeated. "What can you have to say about her--and why should I be angry? I wish you to talk of her." "It may be different this time. I shall hope that you will not be angry. You may have observed, my friend, that when you told me your story a few days since I was greatly astounded to hear of her death, Louise Dupré's death." "Naturally, I hope you were shocked, if only for the sake of your friend, who loved her." "Monsieur, prepare yourself for a surprise greater than my own. You have been deceived." "Deceived?" Henri started from his chair. "How deceived, by whom?" "Be calm, dear friend, and sit down. It is about Louise. I have come this day to tell you the truth; Louise did not die as you were told." Henri sat down suddenly; his face paled, then flushed. "Stop--she did not die--is she then still alive? for God's sake speak plainly, Michel." "She is not dead." "Then to what end was I deceived? For whose sake was I to be kept in ignorance? Is it for yours, Michel? I remember that you said there was no woman worth breaking one's heart over, if she should prove false or die. What have you done, Michel--what have you done?" "You rave, D'Estreville," said Louise, growing a little frightened. "No, I am sane; I know what I say; did you not tell me you believed that I was dead? Believing this you delivered my message to Louise and that was the beginning. Since then the false wench has learned to prefer Michel living to Henri dead--is it not so? Come, confess, Michel." "You are very swift to find fault with the woman you profess to love, Monsieur le Baron," said Louise, somewhat alarmed at the turn the conversation had taken, yet indignant withal. "Ah, you prevaricate! I have guessed rightly. So this is your friendship for me, Monsieur Michel Prevost--a worthy friend in truth and indeed!"