M. de Tregars had come to the Thaller mansion with a plan well settled in advance. He had pondered long before deciding what he would do, and what he would say, and how he would begin the decisive struggle. What had taken place showed him the idleness of his conjectures, and, as a natural consequence, upset his plans. To abandon himself to the chances of the hour, and to make the best possible use of them, was now the wisest thing to do. “Give me credit, mademoiselle,” he uttered, “for sufficient penetration to have perfectly well discerned your intentions. There was no need of artifice, because I have nothing to conceal. You had but to question me, I would have answered you frankly, ‘Yes, it is true I love Mlle. Gilberte; and before a month she will be Marquise de Tregars.’” Mme. de Thaller, at those words, had started to her feet, pushing back her arm-chair so violently, that it rolled all the way to the wall. “What!” she exclaimed, “you marry Gilberte Favoral,--you!” “I--yes.” “The daughter of a defaulting cashier, a dishonored man whom justice pursues and the galleys await!” “Yes!” And in an accent that caused a shiver to run over the white shoulders of Mme. de Thaller, “Whatever may have been,” he uttered, “Vincent Favoral’s crime; whether he has or has not stolen, the twelve millions which are wanting from the funds of the Mutual Credit; whether he is alone guilty, or has accomplices; whether he be a knave, or a fool, an impostor, or a dupe,--Mlle. Gilberte is not responsible.” “You know the Favoral family, then?” “Enough to make their cause henceforth my own.” The agitation of the baroness was so great, that she did not even attempt to conceal it. “A nobody’s daughter!” she said. “I love her.” “Without a sou!” Mlle. Cesarine made a superb gesture. “Why, that’s the very reason why a man may marry her!” she exclaimed, and, holding out her hand to M. de Tregars, “What you do here is well,” she added, “very well.” There was a wild look in the eyes of the baroness. “Mad, unhappy child!” she exclaimed. “If your father should hear!” “And who, then, would report our conversation to him? M. de Tregars? He would not do such a thing. You? You dare not.” Drawing herself up to her fullest height, her breast swelling with anger, her head thrown back, her eyes flashing, “Cesarine,” ordered Mme. de Thaller, her arm extended towards the door--“Cesarine, leave the room; I command you.” But motionless in her place the girl cast upon her mother a look of defiance.