Madame de Hansfeld had listened without interrupting him, thinking that persons ought always to be careful of contradicting madmen. Iris suddenly entered the room with an air of alarm. "Oh, godmother, what a misfortune!" she cried. "What mean you?" "According to your orders, I went to the third rendezvous which Charles de Brévannes has appointed." "Well?" "I told him you would not consent to see him." "Well?" "Then he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with rage, 'Tell your mistress that I am here; that if she will not give me a speedy interview, at which you may be present--I do not object to that--this evening I will spread every where the tale of Raphael Monti--your lady will understand me.'" "Did he say so--did he really?" "And he added, 'She must know I can destroy her, and I will do it.'" "Misery! misery to me and De Morville! What will he think of me? He will credit these atrocious calumnies,--did not unhappy Raphael believe them?" "You are to appoint a meeting in some retired spot, the Luxembourg or the Jardin des Plantes, he said, and he will be there; if not, he will speak out. What is to be done? what--what? That wretch of a man is capable of every and any thing!" After a few moments' reflection, Paula said to Iris, in a decided tone,-- "Give me paper and a pen." "What are you going to do?" "Appoint a meeting with M. de Brévannes, at which you shall be present." "Can you think of such a thing, godmother? What, write and leave a letter of yours in the hands of such a man! What imprudence! But he does not know your writing?" "No." "Suppose I write for you." "You are right; write to him: _The day after to-morrow, at ten o'clock, in the Jardin des Plantes, beneath the cedar in the labyrinth._ Have you written it?" "Yes, godmother." "Sign, _Paula Monti_." "If he should wish to make use of this letter," said Iris, after she had signed it, "he will be the dupe of his own infamy." "When will you give him this note?" "Instantly; he is waiting your answer at the little gate by the Quai d'Anjou." "Go, and return as speedily as possible." "I have a great deal to tell you, what I have just learnt." "What is it?" "During the last week the prince has been four times to an old man's house, named Pierre Raimond, who lives close by." "And what of that?" "Why, Pierre Raimond is father to Bertha de Brévannes, whom you thought so pretty." "What do you say?" "And Bertha has met the prince twice at Pierre Raimond's." "Him--met him?" "Under a false name, Arnold Schneider." "Ah! now I see through it all!" said the princess, pressing both her hands against her brow. "What, godmother?" "You shall know by and by; leave me now." Iris left the apartment. Some minutes afterwards, deceived by the treacherous language of Iris, M. de Brévannes, maddened by his insensate hopes, covered with passionate kisses the note which he believed to have been written by the Princess de Hansfeld. CHAPTER XXVI THE BLACK BOOK