“I changed my attitude toward him.  Before that I’d been hostile and insolent, and then—­and then—­I grew humble.  Yes, Aunt Vic—­humble.  I grew more than humble.  I came to feel—­well, as you might feel if you’d struck a great St. Bernard dog who’d been rescuing you in the snow.  There’s something about him that makes you think of a St. Bernard—­so big and true and loyal—­”

“Did you ever think he might be in love with you?”

She was ready for this question, and had made up her mind to answer it frankly.  “Yes.  I was afraid he was advancing the money on that account.  I felt so right up to—­to a few days ago.”

“And what happened then?”

“Drusilla told me he’d said he—­wasn’t.”

Madame de Melcourt let that pass.  “Did you think he’d fallen in love with you all of a sudden when he came that night to dinner?”

She resolved to tell the whole truth.  “I’d known him before.  He asked me to marry him years ago.  And something happened.  I hardly know how to tell you.  I didn’t answer him.”

“Didn’t answer him?”

“I got up and walked away, right in the middle of—­of what he was trying to tell me.”

“Ti-ens!  And you had to take his money after all?”

Olivia bowed her head.

“Ca c’est trop fort,” the old lady went on.  “You’re quite right then when you say you’ll never be able to pay him off, even if you get rid of him.  But he’s paid you off, hasn’t he?  It’s a more beautiful situation than I fancied.  He didn’t tell me that.”

Olivia looked up.  “He didn’t tell you?  Who?”

“Your papa,” the old lady said, promptly.  “It’s perfectly lovely, isn’t it?  I should think when you meet him you must feel frightfully ashamed.  Don’t you?”

“I should if there wasn’t something about him that—­”

“And you’ll never get over it,” the old lady went on, pitilessly, “not even after you’ve married the other man.  The humiliation will haunt you—­toujours—­toujours!  N’est-ce pas?  If it were I, I should want to marry a man I’d done a thing like that to—­just to carry it off.  But you can’t, can you?  You’ve got to marry the other man.  Even if you weren’t so horribly in love with him, you’d have to marry him, when he’s stood by you like that.  I should be ashamed of you if you didn’t.”

“Of course, Aunt Vic.”

“If he were to back out that would be another thing.  But as it is you’ve got to swallow your humiliation, with regard to this Davenant.  Or, rather, you can’t swallow it.  You’ve simply got to live on it, so to speak.  You’ll never be able to forget for an hour of the day that you treated a man like that—­and then took his money, will you?  It isn’t exactly like striking a St. Bernard who’s rescuing you in the snow.  It’s like beating him first and then having him come and save you afterward.  Oh, la la!  Quelle drole de chose que la vie!  Well, it’s a good thing we can return his money, at the least.”