I read this entry:  ’For attending Euphrasie Taponnet, alias the Marquise de Javelle (a girl), one hundred francs.’  And this is not all.  This woman informed me, moreover, that she had been requested to present the child at the mayor’s office, and that she had been duly registered there under the names of Euphrasie Cesarine Taponnet, born of Euphrasie Taponnet, laundress, and an unknown father.  Finally she placed at my disposal her account-book and her testimony.”

Taxed beyond measure, the energy of the baroness was beginning to fail her; she was turning livid under her rice-powder.  Still in the same icy tone,

“You can understand, madame,” said Marius de Tregars, “that this woman’s testimony, together with the letters which are in my possession, enables me to establish before the courts the exact date of the birth of a daughter whom my father had of his mistress.  But that’s nothing yet.  With renewed zeal, Victor Chupin had resumed his investigations.  He had undertaken the examination of the marriage-registers in all the parishes of Paris, and, as early as the following week, he discovered at Notre Dame des Lorettes the entry of the marriage of Euphrasie Taponnet with Frederic de Thaller.”

Though she must have expected that name, the baroness started up violently and livid, and with a haggard look.

“It’s false!” she began in a choking voice.

A smile of ironical pity passed over Marius’ lips.

“Five minutes’ reflection will prove to you that it is useless to deny,” he interrupted.  “But wait.  In the books of that same church, Victor Chupin has found registered the baptism of a daughter of M. and Mme de Thaller, bearing the same names as the first one, —­Euphrasie Cesarine.”

With a convulsive motion the baroness shrugged her shoulder.

“What does all that prove?” she said.

“That proves, madame, the well-settled intention of substituting one child for another; that proves that my father was imprudently deceived when he was made to believe that the second Cesarine was his daughter, the daughter in whose favor he had formerly disposed of over five hundred thousand francs; that proves that there is somewhere in the world a poor girl who has been basely forsaken by her mother, the Marquise de Javelle, now become the Baroness de Thaller.”

Beside herself with terror and anger,

“That is an infamous lie!” exclaimed the baroness.  M. de Tregars bowed.

“The evidence of the truth of my statements,” he said, “I shall find at Louveciennes, and at the Hotel des Folies, Boulevard du Temple, Paris.”

Night had come.  A footman came in carrying lamps, which he placed upon the mantelpiece.  He was not all together one minute in the little parlor; but that one minute was enough to enable the Marquise de Thaller to recover her coolness, and to collect her ideas.  When the footman retired, she had made up her mind, with the resolute promptness of a person accustomed to perilous situations.  She gave up the discussion, and, drawing near to M. de Tregars,