“Michael Angelo was a devil of a fellow with a brush and a paint-pot; but the man who painted Fontaine’s picture wasn’t far behind him.” “And that play?” “Literally, a screaming success. The women are carried out in hysterics at every performance. One of them, we hoped, would die from excitement. It would have been worth five thousand francs’ advertising. But, unfortunately, she recovered just when our prospects seemed brightest.” “And the speech at the journalists’ dinner--” “The greatest effort of my--I mean, of Fontaine’s life.” “Those signed articles are making a sensation.” “Ah, yes; many a night have I sat up writing--that is, reading those articles. Depend upon it, the things that go under Fontaine’s name are very remarkable.” At that moment a footman approached, and handed Marsac a card, saying, “The lady asked for Monsieur Fontaine.” Marsac was about to hand the card back, when he happened to see on it “Madame Fleury.” “Stop!” he cried instantly; “give me a moment to think. Monsieur Duval, here is the Comtesse de Fleury come after Fontaine! She must not see him!” Monsieur Duval jumped up, flurried, and anxious to be out of the way at the coming scene. “Good heavens! Let me get away. I must keep my poor child out of sight. And Fontaine--” Monsieur Duval waddled off, making remarkably good time for a gentleman of his years, but returned to say impressively, “Take care she doesn’t bamboozle you. You need two pairs of eyes to watch, and four legs to run away, where a widow is concerned;” and then he disappeared. “Show the lady here,” said Marsac, with assumed calmness, and at the same time taking another glass of champagne to steady his nerves. In a minute or two he saw Madame Fleury’s imposing figure advancing along the gravelled walk, and then she had mounted the terrace steps and was gliding over the velvet turf toward him. As usual, she was perfectly well dressed. Her bonnet was set on her head with the grace of a coronet. In one hand she carried a parasol, and in the other a silver card-case. Marsac advanced politely to meet her, and the two exchanged bows, as pugilists shake hands on entering the ring. Madame Fleury lost no time in proceeding to business. “Monsieur Marsac, I have been at a great deal of trouble to find you; but, as you see, I have succeeded. I wish to see Monsieur Fontaine in regard to the engagement between us.” “Is there an engagement between you?” asked Marsac, innocently. “Of what nature, may I ask?” Madame Fleury smiled scornfully at Marsac’s pretended ignorance. “If it be true that he has come into a fortune, then I am the more determined that our contract shall be fulfilled on the 15th of this month. I acknowledge, though, that I have not yet been able to persuade myself fully of this old uncle’s death, or even of his previous existence, because _you_ have had too much to do with the affair.”