She started to go; but M. de Tregars threw himself quickly between her and the door.

“Excuse me,” he said; “but it is not to-morrow that I want an answer:  it is to-night, this instant!”

Ah, if she could have annihilated him with a look.

“Why, this is violence,” she said in a voice which betrayed the incredible effort she was making to control herself.

“It is imposed upon me by circumstances, madame.”

“You would be less exacting, if my husband were here.”

He must have been within hearing; for suddenly the door opened, and he appeared upon the threshold.  There are people for whom the unforeseen does not exist, and whom no event can disconcert.  Having ventured every thing, they expect every thing.  Such was the Baron de Thaller.  With a sagacious glance he examined his wife and M. de Tregars; and in a cordial tone,

“We are quarreling here?” he said.

“I am glad you have come!” exclaimed the baroness.

“What is the matter?”

“The matter is, that M. de Tregars is endeavoring to take an odious advantage of some incidents of our past life.”

“There’s woman’s exaggeration for you!” he said laughing.

And, holding out his hand to Marius,

“Let me make your peace—­for you, my dear marquis,” he said:  “that’s within the province of the husband.”  But, instead of taking his extended hand, M. de Tregars stepped back.

“There is no more peace possible, sir, I am an enemy.”

“An enemy!” he repeated in a tone of surprise which was wonderfully well assumed, if it was not real.

“Yes,” interrupted the baroness; “and I must speak to you at once, Frederic.  Come:  M. de Tregars will wait for you.”

And she led her husband into the adjoining room, not without first casting upon Marius a look of burning and triumphant hatred.

Left alone, M. de Tregars sat down.  Far from annoying him, this sudden intervention of the manager of the Mutual Credit seemed to him a stroke of fortune.  It spared him an explanation more painful still than the first, and the unpleasant necessity of having to confound a villain by proving his infamy to him.

“And besides,” he thought, “when the husband and the wife have consulted with each other, they will acknowledge that they cannot resist, and that it is best to surrender.”  The deliberation was brief.  In less than ten minutes, M. de Thaller returned alone.  He was pale; and his face expressed well the grief of an honest man who discovers too late that he has misplaced his confidence.

“My wife has told me all, sir,” he began.

M. de Tregars had risen.  “Well?” he asked.

“You see me distressed.  Ah, M. le Marquis! how could I ever expect such a thing from you?—­you, whom I thought I had the right to look upon as a friend.  And it is you, who, when a great misfortune befalls me, attempts to give me the finishing stroke.  It is you who would crush me under the weight of slanders gathered in the gutter.”