When she had run her eye rapidly over Mme. de Lorcy’s eight closely written pages, she looked at her father and smiled. “You must own that you found a very useful and a very zealous ally in Mme. de Lorcy; do her this justice, she has worked hard, and you owe her many thanks for having busied herself so actively in ridding you of ‘this worthy man, this good man, this delightful man’; those are her own words, if you remember.” M. Moriaz exclaimed: “I hope you do not imagine that it was a matter arranged between us. Do you really suspect me of having some dark plot with Mme. de Lorcy! Do you believe me capable of being implicated in an act of perfidy?” “God forbid! I only accuse you of being too joyous, and of not knowing how to conceal it.” “Is that a crime?” “Perhaps it is an indiscretion.” “I swear to you, my dear child, that I only consider your happiness, and Mme. de Lorcy herself--Since M. Langis no longer thinks of you, what reason could she have--” “I do not know,” interrupted Antoinette; “but her prejudice would take the place of reason.” “So you will not believe that Count Larinski is married?” “I believe it, without being certain, and I wish to be assured of it. Have I not acted in good faith through all this matter? was I not ready to comply with your conditions? I consented to refer to the judgment of Mme. de Lorcy. She has deigned to be gracious to the accused. She has admitted that M. Larinski is a perfectly honourable and even a delightful man; but she has discovered, at intervals of several days, first, that he does not love me, and then, that he has deceived me by letting me believe that he was still free. I wish to satisfy my own mind, and convince myself that I am not being played with.” “And you have concluded----” “I have concluded that, with your permission, we shall leave to-morrow morning for Cormeilles.” This conclusion was by no means agreeable to M. Moriaz, whose face grew sensibly longer. “Of what are you afraid? You know that I have character, and you ought to know, no matter what Mme. de Lorcy says, that I am not wanting in good sense. When it is proved to me that I have deceived myself, I will make the sign of the cross over my romance; it will be dead and buried, and I promise you not to wear mourning for it.” “So be it,” said he; “I believe in your good sense, I have faith in your reason: we shall leave to-morrow for Cormeilles.” Four days later, Mme. de Lorcy was walking in an alley in her park. She was joined there by M. Langis, to whom she said, in a good-humoured tone: “Always grave and melancholy, my dear Camille! When will you cease your drooping airs? I cannot understand you. I do my best to be agreeable to you, to settle matters satisfactorily. Nothing seems to cheer you. You make me think of the hare in La Fontaine: “‘Cet animal est triste, et la Crainte le ronge.’”