It was not before two o’clock on the next day that he appeared at last, affecting an easy air, but evidently very much embarrassed.  If he did not come the night before, he said, it was because he was sure the Countess Sarah had him watched.  The flight of the daughter of Count Ville-Handry was known all over Paris, and he was suspected of having aided and abetted her:  so they had told him, he said, at his club.  He also added that it would be imprudent in him to stay longer; and he left again, without having said a word to Henrietta, and without having apparently noticed her destitution.

And thus, for three days, he only came, to disappear almost instantly.

He always came painfully embarrassed, as if he had something very important to tell her; then his brow clouded over; and he went away suddenly, without having said any thing.

Henrietta, tortured by terrible doubts, felt unable to endure this atrocious uncertainty any longer.  She determined to force an explanation when, on the fourth day, M. de Brevan came in, evidently under the influence of some terrible determination.  As soon as he had entered, he locked the door, and said in a hoarse voice,—­

“I must speak to you, madam, yes, I must!”

He was deadly pale; his white lips trembled; and his eyes shone with a fearful light, like those of a man who might have sought courage in strong drink.

“I am ready to listen,” replied the poor girl, all trembling.

He hesitated again for a moment; then overcoming his reluctance, apparently by a great effort, he said,—­

“Well, I wish to ask you if you have ever suspected what my real reasons were for assisting you to escape?”

“I think, sir, you have acted from kind pity for me, and also from friendship for M. Daniel Champcey.”

“No!  You are entirely mistaken.”

She drew back instinctively, uttering only a low, “Ah!”

Pale as he had been, M. de Brevan had become crimson.

“Have you really noticed nothing?  Are you really not aware that I love you?”

She could understand any thing but this, the unfortunate girl; any thing but such infamy, such an incredible insult!  M. de Brevan must be either drunk or mad.

“Leave me, sir!” she said peremptorily, but with a voice trembling with indignation.

But he advanced towards her with open arms, and went on,—­

“Yes, I love you madly, and for a long time,—­ever since the first day I saw you.”

Henrietta, however, had swiftly moved aside, and opened the window.

“If you advance another step, I shall cry for help.”

He stopped, and, changing his tone, said to her,—­

“Ah!  You refuse?  Well, what are you hoping for?  For Daniel’s return?  Don’t you know that he loves Sarah?”

“Ah! you abuse my forlorn condition infamously!” broke in the young girl.  And, as he still insisted, she added,—­