"You say that you were the cause of a painful occurrence?" "To be sure; can it be that you have not heard of it?" "I have not the faintest idea what you mean." "I supposed that it must have made a great sensation in society, and that is why I ran away and dared not come back! And you have not heard of the duel?" "A duel!" "Certainly; a duel about me--that is to say--I had no idea it would go so far. Mon Dieu! there are some women who like nothing better than to have men fight for them; but my remorse is terrible!" Madame Baldimer bestowed a piercing glance on Herminie, as if she wished to fathom her thoughts. "Who was the man who fought for you, madame?" she asked. "Monsieur Albert Vermoncey and Monsieur Tobie Pigeonnier, two hot-headed youths who adored me. Oh! what a misfortune it is to arouse such passions! That young Albert had deceived me, it is true; but that was no reason---- Oh! how wrong it was of me to say that I wished to be avenged!" "Monsieur Albert fought a duel for you, you say? When?" "The day before I left Paris for the country--about two months and a half ago." "Well! what was the result of this duel?" "Horrible, madame, shocking! Poor Albert was killed by that little Tobie--killed with a sword-thrust! That is the calamity of which I am the cause, and for which I shall never forgive myself!" Madame Plays covered her eyes with her handkerchief; but, instead of the emotional outburst which she anticipated from Madame Baldimer, she was surprised to hear that lady say, with a sarcastic smile: "Abate your remorse, madame; do not be so heart-broken, I entreat you; for the men who get themselves killed for your sake are still in remarkably good health." "What! what do you mean by that, madame?" cried the fair Herminie, restoring her handkerchief to her pocket. "I mean that young Albert Vermoncey is not dead." "Not dead! Albert not dead! Oh! that is impossible, madame; it was his adversary in person who came and told me the result of their ill-omened meeting! He did not leave Albert until he was certain that he had ceased to breathe; and, as a token of his victory, he took a cigar from his victim and brought it to me, and I have worn it here, on my heart, ever since. It has never left me for an instant!" Madame Baldimer began to laugh more loudly than ever, until she could hardly speak. "Ah! so you carry a cigar in your bosom," she faltered, at last. "I am not surprised at this odor of tobacco, which I could not understand. Ha! ha! ha! this is most amusing! it was a delicious joke!" Madame Plays began to take offence at the fair American's hilarity over her adventure. "Really, madame," she muttered angrily, "I did not suppose that you were so hard-hearted! to laugh because a young man lost his life for me--or, at least, at the hands of one of my chevaliers! I cannot see what there is to laugh at in that."