"For one poor little time that we go out together," continued the duke, "you might have honored me with your diamonds. They are really very handsome. Have you ever seen them, Saint Remy?" "Yes; his lordship knows them by heart," said Clotilde. "Give me your arm, Conrad." Lucenay followed the duchess with Saint Remy, who was almost beside himself with rage. "Are you not coming with us to the Sennevals'?" said Lucenay to him. "No, impossible," answered he hastily. "By the way, Saint Remy, Madame de Senneval is another one--what do I say, one?--two-whom I would sacrifice willingly; for her husband is also on my list." "What list?" "Of those persons whom I would willingly see die, if poor D'Harville could have remained." While Montbrison was assisting his cousin with her mantle, Lucenay said to him, "Since you are going with us, Conrad, order your carriage to follow ours, unless you will go, Saint Remy; then you can give me a place, and I will tell you a story worth two of the tailor's." "I thank you," said Florestan, dryly: "I cannot accompany you." "Then, good-bye. Have you had a dispute with my wife? See, she is getting into the carriage without speaking to you!" "Cousin!" said Conrad, waiting through deference for the duke. "Get in, get in," cried he: and stopping for a moment in the porch, he admired the viscount's equipage. "Are these your sorrels, Saint Remy?" "Yes." "And your fat driver--what a figure! Just see how he holds his horses in his hands! I must confess, there is no one but a Saint Remy who has the best of everything." "Madame de Lucenay and her cousin are waiting," said Florestan, with bitterness. "It is true; how rude I am! Soon again, Saint Remy. Oh, I forgot; if you have nothing better to do, come and dine with us to-morrow. Lord Dudley has sent me from Scotland some grouse and heathcocks. Just imagine something monstrous. It is agreed, is it not?" The duke joined his wife and Conrad. Saint Remy remained alone, and saw the carriage depart; his own drew up, and as he took his seat he cast a look of rage, hatred, and despair on this house, where he had so often entered as a master, and which he now left, ignominiously driven away. "Home," he said, roughly. "To the hotel," said the footman to Patterson, shutting the door. The bitter and sorrowful thoughts of Florestan on his way home can easily be imagined. As he entered, Boyer, who was waiting for him at the lodge, said, "My lord, the count is upstairs." "It is well." "There is also a man there, to whom the count has given an appointment at ten o'clock." "Well, well. Oh, what a day!" said Florestan, as he was going upstairs to meet his father, whom he found in the saloon where the morning's interview had taken place. "A thousand pardons, father, for not being here when you arrived; but I----" "The man who holds this forged draft is here?" "Yes, father, below." "Send for him to come up." Florestan rang the bell; Boyer answered.