Fontaine’s effort at a cheerful grin when this was said was piteous to behold. Just then the footman again entered and handed him a card. One look was enough. “It is Madame Fleury!” he cried. “Don’t let her up.” But he was too late. Madame Fleury walked into the drawing-room on the heels of her messenger and said to the servant, in an authoritative manner, “Take my card to Monsieur Duval.” Never had the gentle Claire showed haughtiness to any human creature before; but when face to face with Madame Fleury, she drew her slight figure up, and in a tone of quiet disdain said, “I think, Madame, that I--my father’s daughter--have some rights in this house; and I forbid my servant to take your card.” “And I think,” suavely replied Madame Fleury, “that your father, master of his house, has some rights here too; so--” A look at the footman finished the sentence. The man went out with the card. Claire, with a heightened colour, turned to Delphine, saying, “Shall we withdraw?” “By no means,” answered Delphine, coolly; “that would indeed be a surrender.” They both therefore stood their ground. Fontaine, who was glad to keep out of the mêlée, had prudently kept in the background during this; but Madame Fleury would not let him rest there. “Monsieur Fontaine,” she asked in her smoothest voice, “do you remember a certain document which we both signed, referring to the 15th of May?” “I do, to my eternal sorrow,” was Fontaine’s reply; but before he could say anything more, Monsieur Duval bustled in, looking flurried, nervous, but elated with the elation of a stupid old man who finds himself an object of interest to a handsome young woman. “Good morning, Madame,” he cried. “I am delighted to see you.” “It is more than your daughter and niece were,” answered Madame Fleury, smiling. “How is this?” sternly asked Monsieur Duval, wheeling around upon the two girls. Claire, who dearly loved her father, could not utter a word; but Delphine was equal to the situation. “Of course we were not delighted to see her; and, uncle--pardon me--but a man of your age should know better--” “Monsieur Duval,” interrupted Madame Fleury, “your age is one of your greatest charms in my eyes.” “And yet,” coolly continued Delphine, “Monsieur Fontaine’s youth was no objection to him. Anything between the cradle and the grave seems to suit this--person.” Monsieur Duval felt called upon to say reprovingly, “Delphine!” but the next moment he weakened and muttered, “I wish Marsac were here. He is the only one that can manage all of you!”