So obvious was the sincerity with which Marguerite expressed herself in speaking of her delight to return to obscurity, that Dame Petronille, furious at having been unable to wound the woman whom she envied, lost all control of herself. "You err," she declared, "in these days, it does not depend upon a man like Master Marcel to quietly bury himself in a retreat. No! No! When one has been the idol of Paris, you must either keep or lose the confidence of the people. If it is lost, you are looked upon as a traitor. And do you know what is dealt out to traitors? Death!" "Can the enemies of Marcel have the audacity of pointing at him as a traitor?" cried Marguerite with tears in her eyes. "Do they aim at his life? Come, Dame Petronille, your silence upsets me." Petronille was about to answer when the voice of Marcel was heard outside the chamber cheerfully announcing: "Marguerite! Denise! I have good news! Good news!" Dame Petronille remained silent, and stiffly bowing, rapidly took her departure without uttering a word. CHAPTER V. CHARLES THE WICKED. Marcel entered. The radiant joy that suffused his face upon entering the house now made room for amazement at the silent and brusque departure of Maillart's wife, who swept by him at the door. He looked at Marguerite and Denise inquiringly, and noticing the disquietude and even alarm depicted on their faces by the odious calumnies of Petronille, he hastened to ask: "What is the matter, Marguerite? Why did our friend's wife leave in that strange manner?" "Oh, uncle!" broke out the young girl with tears in her eyes. "There are very wicked people ... serpents and vipers." "They are to be pitied, my child. But I hope you do not refer to wicked people in connection with Maillart's wife?" "My friend," said Marguerite with embarrassment, "idle talk deserves contempt only. Nevertheless, in times like these idle talk may have serious consequences." "Well," observed Marcel dejectedly, "I have but an hour to spend with you. I am tired out. I hoped to enjoy some rest. I came full of joy with good news that was to make you happy as it made me. And here it is all spoiled. But these minutes of quiet and relaxation are sweet to me at your side, dear objects of my love." "These moments are quite rare," said Marguerite sighing, "and they are as precious to us as to you ... do not doubt, beloved Marcel!"