Renee was ill for a week, and Henri, knowing the cause, did his best to alleviate her suffering.  Still, a coldness remained between them.  He understood that she had forgiven the brother, but not the man.  One day she accompanied Henri to town and went with him to the Record Office, where he had to make some inquiries about the legality of adopting his own name.  While he was questioning the keeper, she overheard two clerks discuss her brother and his claim.  “He thinks the Villacourt family is extinct.  But he is misinformed, although they have gone down in the world.  In fact, I know the heir to the title—­a M. Boisjorand with whom I once had a fight when we were boys.  They lived in the forest of the Croix-du-Soldat, near St. Mihiel, at La Motte-Noire.”  Renee fixed these names in her mind.

“I have got all I want,” said Henri, gaily coming towards her.  And they went out together.

The Bourjots were giving a great ball to celebrate the public announcement of the engagement of their daughter to M. Mauperin de Villacourt.

“You are enjoying yourself,” said Renee to Noemi.

“I have never danced so much, it is true.”  And Noemi took her arm and drew her into a small salon.  “No, never.”  She kissed her.  “Oh, what it is to be happy!  She loves him no longer.  I am sure of it—­I can see it; I feel it.”

“And you love him now?”

Noemi closed her mouth by pressing her lips upon Renee’s.  A young man came to claim Noemi for the dance, and Denoisel requested the same favour from Renee.

Denoisel was with Henri Mauperin.  They were smoking and talking peacefully, when the door was thrust open, and a man forced his way in, pushing aside the valet who wanted to prevent him from entering.

“M.  Mauperin de Villacourt?” he asked.

“That is my name,” said Henri, rising.

“Good.  My name is Boisjorand de Villacourt,” retorted the stranger, striking him so violently on the cheek that his face was immediately covered with blood.  Henri conquered his first impulse to throw himself upon the intruder, and said calmly, “You find that there is one Villacourt too many—­so do I. Leave your card with my servant.  I shall send to you to-morrow.”

It was from a marked number of the “Moniteur,” which the impoverished heir of the glorious name of De Villacourt found on his return from a two years’ sojourn in Africa, that M. Boisjorand had learned that Henri had taken from him this name, which was all that had come down to him from his famous ancestors.  He immediately proceeded to Paris and sought legal advice, but found that his poverty rendered legal action impossible.  After his interview with the solicitor, he went straight to Henri’s apartment to obtain the only satisfaction that was in his power.

Denoisel and another friend of Henri’s arranged with Boisjorand’s seconds next morning the details of the meeting.  Henri, who was an excellent shot, had insisted on pistols at thirty-five paces, each combatant to have the right to advance ten steps.  The duel was to take place at four o’clock the same afternoon near the ponds of Ville d’Avray.