Clementine came home the next day, and the day after that Paz beheld her again, more beautiful and graceful than ever. After dinner, during which the countess treated Paz with an air of perfect indifference, a little scene took place in the salon between the count and his wife when Thaddeus had left them. On pretence of asking Adam’s advice, Thaddeus had left Malaga’s letter with him, as if by mistake. “Poor Thaddeus!” said Adam, as Paz disappeared, “what a misfortune for a man of his distinction to be the plaything of the lowest kind of circus-rider. He will lose everything, and get lower and lower, and won’t be recognizable before long. Here, read that,” added the count, giving Malaga’s letter to his wife. Clementine read the letter, which smelt of tobacco, and threw it from her with a look of disgust. “Thick as the bandage is over his eyes,” continued Adam, “he must have found out something; Malaga tricked him, no doubt.” “But he goes back to her,” said Clementine, “and he will forgive her! It is for such horrible women as that that you men have indulgence.” “Well, they need it,” said Adam. “Thaddeus used to show some decency--in living apart from us,” she remarked. “He had better go altogether.” “Oh, my dear angel, that’s going too far,” said the count, who did not want the death of the sinner. Paz, who knew Adam thoroughly, had enjoined him to secrecy, pretending to excuse his dissipations, and had asked his friend to lend him a few thousand francs for Malaga. “He is a very firm fellow,” said Adam. “How so?” asked Clementine. “Why, for having spent no more than ten thousand francs on her, and letting her send him that letter before he would ask me for enough to pay her debts. For a Pole, I call that firm.” “He will ruin you,” said Clementine, in the sharp tone of a Parisian woman, when she shows her feline distrusts. “Oh, I know him,” said Adam; “he will sacrifice Malaga, if I ask him.” “We shall see,” remarked the countess. “If it is best for his own happiness, I sha’n’t hesitate to ask him to leave her. Constantin says that since Paz has been with her he, sober as he is, has sometimes come home quite excited. If he takes to intoxication I shall be just as grieved as if he were my own son.” “Don’t tell me anything more about it,” cried the countess, with a gesture of disgust.