"You may return to your room and go to bed," said the baroness. Edith withdrew. Antoinette tossed the letter wrathfully to her daughter. "There!" she exclaimed, "that's what comes of your fine scheme." Alfonsine turned pale and trembled with passion as she read the letter. Her voice failed her. Her mother's face was distorted with anger. "You evidently thought," said the baroness, biting her words off one by one, "that every man was an Otto Palvicz! Your stupid game is lost, and now we will try my plan." CHAPTER VII. THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. As Richard made his way homeward, he seemed to himself to be riding on a winged steed. He was entirely satisfied with the issue of that day's adventure. Reviewing in imagination the temptation to which he had been exposed, he exulted in the victory he had won over himself. Consequently, when he reëntered his bachelor quarters, he could not but feel an unwelcome sensation as his eye fell on certain objects that he would gladly have banished from sight. They were sundry souvenirs of certain love affairs, and no longer possessed the value in his eyes that they had once had. Summoning Paul, he bade him make a fire. "But the wood is so confoundedly wet that it won't burn," returned the old hussar. At this Richard rummaged in the drawer of his writing-desk and produced a bundle of letters, whose delicate tint and perfume betrayed their probable nature. "There," said he, "take these; they will start the fire." This order gave old Paul much pleasure, and soon the billets-doux were blazing merrily on the hearth. "Paul," began Richard after a pause, "to-morrow we break up and go away for the annual manœuvres." The old soldier showed his satisfaction at this announcement. "But we can't take all this trumpery with us," added the young officer. "You'll have to sell the furniture, but the souvenirs, pictures, and embroideries may be thrown into the fire." Paul bowed dutifully. Opposite the young man's bed hung a large oil painting in a great gilt frame; it was the portrait of a famous beauty who had caused herself to be painted as Danaë, and had presented the picture to Richard. The latter now bade his servant get rid of it with the rest of the rubbish. After thoroughly ransacking his drawers for old love-letters, faded flowers, bits of ribbon, and other miscellaneous articles, he left the entire collection for old Paul to destroy, while he himself went out with a lightened conscience to his supper. The next morning, when Paul brought his master's boots, Richard made some remark on the thoroughness with which his faithful servant had executed his orders. "But surely," he added, "you can't have burnt up the frame of the large painting. What has become of it?" "Do you suppose I burnt up the picture, either?" asked Paul in his turn. "I am not so crazy as to throw a fine work of art like that into the fire."