She dared not breathe her doubts; but, like a subtle poison which disorganizes everything with which it comes in contact, this new suspicion filled her thoughts, and added to her already intolerable sufferings.

Yet she never once thought of blaming Raoul; nor for a moment did she feel displeased with her idolized son.  She accused the marquis of taking advantage of the youthful weakness and inexperience of his nephew.

She knew that she would have to suffer insolence and extortion from this man who had her completely in his power; but she could not imagine what object he now had in view, for she plainly saw that he was aiming at something more than his nephew’s success in life.  He constantly concealed some plan to benefit himself at her expense; but assuredly her darling Raoul could not be an accomplice in any plot to harass her.

Clameran himself soon cleared her mind of all doubts.

One day, after complaining more bitterly than usual of Raoul, and proving to Mme. Fauvel that it was impossible for this state of affairs to continue much longer, and a catastrophe was inevitable, he would up by saying there was one means of salvation left.

This was that he, Clameran, must marry Madeleine!

Mme. Fauvel was prepared for almost any base proposal save this one.  She knew that his cupidity and insolence stopped at nothing, but never did she imagine he would have the wild presumption to aspire to Madeleine’s hand.

If she had renounced all hope of happiness for herself, if she consented to the sacrifice of her own peace of mind, it was because she thus hoped to insure the undisturbed felicity of her household, of her husband, whom she had sinned against.

This unexpected declaration shocked her, and for a moment she was speechless.

“Do you suppose for an instant, monsieur,” she indignantly exclaimed, “that I will consent to any such disgraceful project?  Sacrifice Madeleine, and to you!”

“I certainly do suppose so, madame; in fact, I am certain of it,” he answered with cool insolence.

“What sort of a woman do you think I am, monsieur?  Alas, I am to eternally suffer for a fault committed twenty years ago; have I not already been more than adequately punished?  And does it become you to be constantly reproaching me with my long-past imprudence?  You have no right to be thus harassing me, till I dare not say my life is my own!  Your power is at an end, and God only knows how deeply I regret having been insane enough to yield to its base sway!  So long as I alone was to be the tool, you found me weak and timid; but, now that you seek the ruin of those I love, I rebel against your usurped authority.  I have still a little conscience left, and nothing under heaven will force me to sacrifice my gentle, pure-hearted Madeleine!”

“May I inquire, madame, why you regard Mlle. Madeleine’s becoming the Marchioness of Clameran as a disgrace and a sacrifice?”