"There's many a true word spoken in jest," said Rose, with a laugh. "You don't think you have been taking _me_ in all this time, Mr. St. John, with your letters to Mary Carr, and her envelopes back again? Bah! pas si bête." She went, waltzing, on to the colonnade. Mr. St. John turned to Miss Carr, and thanked her for the very thing Rose had named. "I presume you know," he said, "that our correspondence was perfectly justified, though I did not wish it declared until my return--that we are affianced to each other?" "I have feared it some time, Mr. St. John." "_Feared it?_" "Yes. Adeline is promised to another: and the French look upon such engagements as sacred." "In a general way. But there are cases of exception. We have your good wishes, I hope?" "Indeed you have. For I fear it may be a matter of life or death to Adeline--according as it may be decided. She is a sensitive plant." "And shall be cherished as one." It was a most uncomfortable dinner that day. Mr. St. John was present, looking quiet and resolute; de la Chasse furious. During the afternoon some inkling of the pretensions of Mr. St. John had oozed out, and de la Chasse aspersed him in his absence before them all. After dinner, Signor de Castella led the way to the billiard-room, hoping, probably, that the knocking about of balls might dissipate the constraint. But it came to an open rupture. Some difference of opinion arose about the game. St. John was haughty and unbending: de la Chasse gave way to his anger, and so far forgot himself as personally to attack, by words, Mr. St. John. "A spendthrift, who had run through his own fortune, to come hunting after Adeline's----" "Vous êtes menteur!" shouted Mr. St. John, forgetting his manners, and turning short upon the Baron. But what further he might have said was stopped by Adeline, who, terrified out of self-control, darted across the room, and, touching St. John's arm, whispered him to be calm for her sake. De la Chasse advanced and offered his hand to remove Adeline, but St. John held her by him in haughty defiance. "Mademoiselle, you are degrading yourself!" said M. de la Chasse. "Come from his side." There was no answer from St. John, save a quiet smile of power, and his retaining hold of Adeline. The Baron looked at M. de Castella, but the scene had really passed so quickly that the latter had found no breath to interfere. "Is it fit that my promised wife should thus be subjected to insult in my presence, sir?" he asked. "Adeline," interposed M. de Castella, sternly, "return to your mother." "She is _my_ promised wife," said Mr. St. John to the Baron, "and I have a right to retain her here--the right of affection. A right that _you_ will never have." De la Chasse was foaming--presenting a very contrast to the cool equanimity of Mr. St. John. "I will not bandy words with him: I will not. Signor de Castella, when your salon shall be freed from that man, I will re-enter it."