“Does Madame de Courcelles know that I am here?” he asked, as the servant, after lingering a moment, was about to leave the room.

“I delivered Monsieur le Vicomte’s message, and brought back Madame’s reply,” said the man, “half an hour ago.”

“True—­I had forgotten it.  You may go.”

The footman closed the door noiselessly, and had no sooner done so than he was recalled by another impatient peal.

“Here, Henri—­have you told Madame de Courcelles that this gentleman is also waiting to see her?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte.”

“Eh bien?”

“And Madame said she should be down in a few moments.”

“Sacredie! go back, then, and inquire if....”

“Madame is here.”

As the footman moved back respectfully, Madame de Courcelles came into the room.  She was looking perhaps somewhat paler, but, to my thinking, more charming than ever.  Her dark hair was gathered closely round her head in massive braids, displaying to their utmost advantage all the delicate curves of her throat and chin; while her rich morning dress, made of some dark material, and fastened at the throat by a round brooch of dead gold, fell in loose and ample folds, like the drapery of a Roman matron.  Coming at once to meet me, she extended a cordial hand, and said:—­

“I had begun to despair of ever seeing you again.  Why have you always come when I was out?”

“Madame,” I said, bending low over the slender fingers, that seemed to linger kindly in my own, “I have been undeservedly unfortunate.”

“Remember for the future,” she said, “that I am always at home till midday, and after five.”

Then, turning to her other visitor, she said:—­

“Mon cousin, allow me to present my friend.  Monsieur Arbuthnot—­Monsieur le Vicomte Adrien de Caylus.”

I had suspected as much already.  Who but he would have dared to assume these airs of insolence?  Who but her suitor and my friend’s rival?  I had disliked him at first sight, and now I detested him.  Whether it was that my aversion showed itself in my face, or that Madame de Courcelles’s cordial welcome of myself annoyed him, I know not; but his bow was even cooler than my own.

“I have been waiting to see you, Helene,” said he, looking at his watch, “for nearly three-quarters of an hour.”

“I sent you word, mon cousin, that I was finishing a letter for the foreign post,” said Madame de Courcelles, coldly, “and that I could not come sooner.”

Monsieur de Caylus bit his lip and cast an impatient glance in my direction.

“Can you spare me a few moments alone, Helene?” he said.

“Alone, mon cousin?”

“Yes, upon a matter of business.”

Madame de Courcelles sighed.

“If Monsieur Arbuthnot will be so indulgent as to excuse me for five minutes,” she replied.  “This way, mon cousin.”