Valerie had had the satisfaction of seeing the Brazilian in the church; for Crevel, now so entirely the husband, had invited him out of bravado.  And the Baron’s presence at the breakfast astonished no one.  All these men of wit and of the world were familiar with the meanness of passion, the compromises of pleasure.

Steinbock’s deep melancholy—­for he was beginning to despise the woman whom he had adored as an angel—­was considered to be in excellent taste.  The Pole thus seemed to convey that all was at an end between Valerie and himself.  Lisbeth came to embrace her dear Madame Crevel, and to excuse herself for not staying to the breakfast on the score of Adeline’s sad state of health.

“Be quite easy,” said she to Valerie, “they will call on you, and you will call on them.  Simply hearing the words two hundred thousand francs has brought the Baroness to death’s door.  Oh, you have them all hard and fast by that tale!—­But you must tell it to me.”

Within a month of her marriage, Valerie was at her tenth quarrel with Steinbock; he insisted on explanations as to Henri Montes, reminding her of the words spoken in their paradise; and, not content with speaking to her in terms of scorn, he watched her so closely that she never had a moment of liberty, so much was she fettered by his jealousy on one side and Crevel’s devotion on the other.

Bereft now of Lisbeth, whose advice had always been so valuable she flew into such a rage as to reproach Wenceslas for the money she had lent him.  This so effectually roused Steinbock’s pride, that he came no more to the Crevels’ house.  So Valerie had gained her point, which was to be rid of him for a time, and enjoy some freedom.  She waited till Crevel should make a little journey into the country to see Comte Popinot, with a view to arranging for her introduction to the Countess, and was then able to make an appointment to meet the Baron, whom she wanted to have at her command for a whole day to give him those “reasons” which were to make him love her more than ever.

On the morning of that day, Reine, who estimated the magnitude of her crime by that of the bribe she received, tried to warn her mistress, in whom she naturally took more interest than in strangers.  Still, as she had been threatened with madness, and ending her days in the Salpetriere in case of indiscretion, she was cautious.

“Madame, you are so well off now,” said she.  “Why take on again with that Brazilian?—­I do not trust him at all.”

“You are very right, Reine, and I mean to be rid of him.”

“Oh, madame, I am glad to hear it; he frightens me, does that big Moor!  I believe him to be capable of anything.”

“Silly child! you have more reason to be afraid for him when he is with me.”

At this moment Lisbeth came in.

“My dear little pet Nanny, what an age since we met!” cried Valerie.  “I am so unhappy!  Crevel bores me to death; and Wenceslas is gone—­we quarreled.”