The old sailor replied to us in nautical language which we could not understand.  Another man said:  “The Ontario is pretty far out by this time!” We ran to the other end of the pier and found a crowd of people watching a cloud that was gradually disappearing in the distance.  “I see nothing now,” said one of the people.  But I saw a little ... little smoke ... and I could distinctly see a flag with a large O on it....  Madame de Meilhan, pale and breathless, had not the strength to ask the name of the fatal vessel that was almost out of sight ...  I could only gasp out the word “Ontario?" ...

“Precisely so, madame, but don’t be uneasy ... it is a fast vessel, and your friends will land in America before two weeks are passed.  You look astonished, but it is the truth, the Ontario is never behind time!” Madame de Meilhan fell fainting in my arms.  She was lifted to our carriage and soon restored to consciousness, but was so overcome that she seemed incapable of comprehending the extent of her misfortune.  We drove to the nearest hotel, and I remained in her room silently weeping and reproaching myself for having destroyed the happiness of this family.

During these first moments of stupor Madame de Meilhan showed no indignation at my presence; but no sooner had she recovered the use of her senses than she burst into a storm of abuse; calling me a detestable intriguer, a low adventuress who, by my stage tricks, had turned the head of her noble son; I would be the cause of his death—­that fatal country would never give back her son; what a pity to see so superior a man, a pride and credit to his country, perish, succumb, to the snares of an obscure prude, who had not the sense to be his mistress, who was incapable of loving him for a single day; an ambitious schemer, who had determined to entrap him into marriage, but unhesitatingly sacrificed him to M. de Villiers as soon as she found M. de Villiers was the richer of the two, ... and many other flattering accusations she made, that were equally ill-deserved.  I quietly listened to all this abuse, and went on preparing a glass of eau sucree for the poor weeping fury, whose conduct inspired me with generous pity.  When she had finished her tirade, I silently handed her the orange water to calm her anger, and I looked at her ... my look expressed such firm gentle pride, such generous indulgence, such invulnerable dignity, that she felt herself completely disarmed.  She took my hand and said, as she dried her tears:  “You must forgive me, I am so unhappy!” Then I tried to console her; I told her I would write to her son, and she would soon have him back, as my letter would reach New York by the time he landed, and then it would only take him two weeks to return.  This promise calmed her; then I persuaded her to lie down and recover from the fatigue of travelling all night.  When I saw her poor swollen eyelids fairly closed, I left her to enjoy her slumbers and retired to my own room.  I rested awhile and then rang to order preparations for our departure; but instead of the servant answering the bell, a pretty little girl, about eight years old, entered my room; upon seeing me she drew back frightened.