“Ah!” replied the duchess, “Because I must permit myself some rather nasty actions—­”

“You don’t mean to rob anybody?”

“On the contrary, I shall apparently have to spend a great deal of money.”

“You will not calumniate, or—­”

“Oh! oh!”

“—­injure your neighbor?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Come, tell me your plan,” said the abbe, now becoming curious.

“Suppose, instead of driving out one nail by another,—­this is what I thought at my prie-Dieu after imploring the Blessed Virgin to enlighten me,—­I were to free Calyste by persuading Monsieur de Rochefide to take back his wife?  Instead of lending a hand to evil for the sake of doing good to my daughter, I should do one great good by another almost as great—­”

The vicar looked at the Portuguese lady, and was pensive.

“That is evidently an idea that came to you from afar,” he said, “so far that—­”

“I have thanked the Virgin for it,” replied the good and humble duchess; “and I have made a vow—­not counting a novena—­to give twelve hundred francs to some poor family if I succeed.  But when I communicated my plan to Monsieur de Grandlieu he began to laugh, and said:  ’Upon my honor, at your time of life I think you women have a devil of your own.’”

“Monsieur le duc made as a husband the same reply I was about to make when you interrupted me,” said the abbe, who could not restrain a smile.

“Ah!  Father, if you approve of the idea, will you also approve of the means of execution?  It is necessary to do to a certain Madame Schontz (a Beatrix of the quartier Saint-Georges) what I proposed to do to Madame de Rochefide.”

“I am certain that you will not do any real wrong,” said the vicar, cleverly, not wishing to hear any more, having found the result so desirable.  “You can consult me later if you find your conscience muttering,” he added.  “But why, instead of giving that person in the rue Saint-Georges a fresh occasion for scandal, don’t you give her a husband?”

“Ah! my dear director, now you have rectified the only bad thing I had in my plan.  You are worthy of being an archbishop, and I hope I shall not die till I have had the opportunity of calling you Your Eminence.”

“I see only one difficulty in all this,” said the abbe.

“What is that?”

“Suppose Madame de Rochefide chooses to keep your son-in-law after she goes back to her husband?”

“That’s my affair,” replied the duchess; “when one doesn’t often intrigue, one does so—­”

“Badly, very badly,” said the abbe.  “Habit is necessary for everything.  Try to employ some of those scamps who live by intrigue, and don’t show your own hand.”

“Ah! monsieur l’abbe, if I make use of the means of hell, will Heaven help me?”

“You are not at confession,” repeated the abbe.  “Save your child.”