“I have never been received in a manner that seemed to require courage on my part.”

“You have come, no doubt,” continued Monsieur de Lanty, “in search of your property which you were careless enough to leave in our hands.  I shall return you that article of gallantry.”

So saying, he rose and took from a drawer in his secretary an elegant little portfolio, which he gave to me.

As I looked at it in a sort of stupefaction, he added: 

“Yes; I know the letters are not there; I presume you will allow me to keep them.”

“This portfolio, the letters you mention—­all this is an enigma to me, monsieur.”

At this moment Madame de Lanty entered the room.

“What do you want?” said her husband, roughly.

“I knew monsieur was here, and as I feared some painful explanation, I came to do my duty as a woman, and interpose.”

“You need fear nothing, madame,” I said; “evidently what is taking place is the result of some misunderstanding.”

“Ah! this is too much!” cried Monsieur de Lanty, reopening the drawer from which he had taken the portfolio, and taking out a packet of letters tied with a rose-colored ribbon.  “I think these will put an end to your misunderstanding.”

I looked at the letters; they were not postmarked, and simply bore my name, Monsieur Dorlange, in a woman’s handwriting, which was unknown to me.

“Monsieur,” I said, “you know more than I do; you have in your possession letters that seem to belong to me, but which I have never received.”

“Upon my word,” cried Monsieur de Lanty, “you are an admirable comedian; I never saw innocence better played.”

“But, monsieur,” I said, “who wrote those letters, and why are they addressed to me?”

“It is useless to deny them, monsieur,” said Madame de Lanty; “Marianina has confessed all.”

“Mademoiselle Marianina!” I exclaimed.  “Then the matter is very simple; have the goodness to bring us together; let me hear from her lips the explanation of this singular affair.”

“The evasion is clever,” replied Monsieur de Lanty; “but my daughter is no longer here:  she is in a convent, forever sheltered from your intrigues and the dangers of her own ridiculous passion.  If that is what you came to know, all is said.  Let us part, for my patience and moderation have a limit, if your insolence has none.”

“Monsieur!” I began, angrily; but Madame de Lanty, who was standing behind her husband, made me a gesture as if she would fall upon her knees; and reflecting that perhaps Marianina’s future depended on the attitude I now took, I controlled myself and left the room without further words.

The next morning, before I was out of bed, the Abbe Fontanon was announced to me.  When he entered he proved to be a tall old man with a bilious skin and a sombre, stern expression, which he tried to soften by a specious manner and a show of gentle but icy obsequiousness.