Now the scales had fallen from her eyes. For the first time she saw him as he was. He was her Lauzun no longer. She felt that she was repugnant to him. An agony of grief welled up within her; she could have screamed for very bitterness of soul in the wild impulse of her despair. But at this supreme moment her pride came to her support. Should she let him mock the strivings of her tortured spirit? gauge the abyss of her misery with his cold steely eye? No; mortal as were the wounds his cruelty had inflicted, they should still be sacred. She would say nothing. As she looks at him (and, looking at him, gazes also through the long vista of years that his presence recalls) she composes her countenance to an unnatural calmness, and she replies to him, in a voice almost as careless as his own— "It gives me infinite pain to hear that you have been ill, but I rejoice to see you so perfectly restored. I never saw you looking better in my life." [Illustration: MADAME DE MAINTENON.] A glare of anger passed into Lauzun's eyes, and he frowned. Again there was a long and awkward pause. "You have laid out a great deal of money here at Choisy," he says with a sneer, his eyes wandering round. "I think you have been ill-advised to purchase this place. It is a mere _guinguette_, lying in a hole. What a useless building it is—so ill designed too!" and he casts his eyes contemptuously down the suite of rooms, the doors of which are open. "Some people think it is not good enough for me," answers Mademoiselle, with forced calmness, although her lips tremble in spite of herself. "Have you paid for it, madame?" asks Lauzun, with the utmost impertinence. "I have paid for it," replies the Princess. Lauzun now rises, and strides up and down the cabinet. He strolls into the adjoining gallery, eying the precious ornaments with which the tables are covered. He takes the most valuable articles in his hands and carefully examines them, holding them up against the light. Then he returns, stands opposite Mademoiselle, and examines her features with a stare of cynical scrutiny. She grows crimson under this insolent inspection, but says nothing. "You would have done much better to have given me the money you have squandered here. I have suffered great misery." "I have given you too much already, Monsieur de Lauzun," replies Mademoiselle, in an unsteady voice, for his heartless greed smote her to the very soul. "I fear you are horribly cheated," adds Lauzun, not noticing her reply. Again he walks up and down the room. "I could manage matters much better for you. Will you make me your treasurer?" He speaks eagerly, and there is a hungry gleam in his eye that bodes ill for Mademoiselle's revenues. "No, I will not," answers Mademoiselle, firmly. "If you want to know, I have paid for this place forty thousand livres. I sold my string of pearls to purchase it."