"Will monsieur kindly explain his business?" enquired the abbé, with his sweetest smile. "Of course, any emissary from one who has all our respect and affection is most welcome at his chateau of Lorge. Yet we cannot expect that our poor attractions should lure anyone to so quiet a retreat." "His chateau of Lorge?" thought the governess, surprised. "Surely it belongs to the marquis?" "I hope M. de Brèze is not seriously ill?" asked Clovis, with an effort. It was incumbent on him to say something. "Too indisposed, unfortunately, to travel, even on important business. You are aware that Madame la Marquise has made a communication to her father?" If a cannon ball had dropped through the ceiling, the company could not have looked more startled. The solicitor smiled, and then grew graver than before. There was consternation on every face. The position of the marquise was evidently more serious even than she had said. The letter had been sent clandestinely, or it would have been suppressed. "The communication was a sad blow to the maréchal," the solicitor continued quietly, "and increased the fever under which he suffered. Nevertheless, he would be here himself had not the doctors and Madame la Maréchale almost employed force. It is as well that the marquise should happen to be absent, for it makes my task the easier. Plainly, marquis, M. de Brèze demands the instant dismissal of a person in your employ who has seriously offended his daughter." Aglaé's massive jaw dropped in dumb amazement, while the abbé shot at her a covert glance of white hot malevolence. She had been up to some nefarious prank on her own account, unknown to him: had spoiled his game as well as her own. His frail fingers writhed like adders under the table. How he would have liked to strangle her. "I--offend madame?" faltered the governess, dumbfoundered. The ground was slipping from beneath her. By what right could the old gentleman in Paris send so peremptory a demand to his son-in-law? The sly minx was not so mean-spirited after all. Who could have supposed her capable of turning the tables, by secretly sending for her father? Aglaé looked at the marquis, whose face was dark as a thundercloud. Gaining courage from a certainty of his support, she added, toying carelessly with a coffee-spoon-- "I have always done my duty by madame's children, whom she never looked after herself. I was engaged by M. le Marquis, who has expressed himself satisfied with my efforts." "Do I understand that mademoiselle declines to go?" enquired the solicitor. "M. le Marquis is strangely silent. Shall I, to my infinite regret, be compelled to carry out my instructions in full?" The stranger dared to threaten the Marquis de Gange! Mademoiselle Brunelle glanced furtively at the abbé, who glared at her. She was bewildered, possessing no key to the puzzle.