Many a clever criminal, when plaiting a rope for his deliverance will leave a strand unsound, and break his leg in a ditch. The pride and delicacy of the marquise had always shrunk from upbraiding Clovis with ingratitude, or of using her wealth as a weapon of self-defence. With misery comes indifference to pelf. What was money to her, save what she needed for her poor? Since Clovis and the dear ones were complete without her, and clearly did not want her, wherein would she be bettered by twitching at the purse-strings? Hence, as the subject, being rather unpleasant, was never broached, the governess had never learned that the source of affluence was Gabrielle, and that if the wife were, before the death of old de Brèze, to sink into the grave, the husband would lose all hope of himself fingering the revenues. Seeing how urgent it was to hit upon a plan of action which should avert impending chaos, both Pharamond and Aglaé secretly and independently resolved to seek a private interview with the marquise which should further prepare the way to a desirable result from their own point of view, or, if destiny proved kindly, clinch the matter of the future. The first in the field was Pharamond, who, suddenly solicitous for the welfare of his sister-in-law, tapped at her boudoir door. "My blessed Gabrielle!" he cried, archly shaking a finger. "You are very very naughty, and I have come to scold you! At a time when we ought all to hang together you avoid us as if we had the plague, and shun the family councils. Do you not know what is happening; that we are all tinkering with might and main to prepare our ark for the Deluge? I am sure the Noah family must have been an united one, or they would never have achieved the task of heralding all those beasts. Just think what a genius for organization some of them must have had! A pair of each after their kind! I declare that the beetles and flies alone would have reduced me to a state of madness!" Gabrielle had no smile now for the abbé's persiflage. "You should know," she quietly observed, looking up from her book with a serious wrapt expression which seemed as if reflected from beyond the gates, "that the world and I have parted company. Grief is a slow and painful death which absorbs our stock of endurance." This was not quite the desirable frame of mind which Pharamond had reckoned on. The screw had been turned too far and must be loosened. "This mopish place affects your nerves, and no wonder," he said. "Change of air and scene will set you up again." She glanced at the abbé in quick surprise. "Change of air and scene!" She feared lest he had come to demand her ultimatum. "What would you say," he suggested, "to a tour in Switzerland, with one who would make you happy?" "No one will ever make me happy," she returned, composedly, "and yet I have desired a change--should like to go away from here----" "A la bonheur," muttered the abbé to himself.