called Samuel Brohl:  remember the name.  I pitied him and I saw no other way of saving him than to buy him of his father.  This horrid little man demanded an exorbitant price.  I assure you his pretensions were absurd.  Well, my dear, I was out of cash; I had with me just the money sufficient for the expenses of the rest of the journey; but I wore on my arm a bracelet that had the advantage of pleasing him.  It was a Persian trinket, more singular than beautiful.  I can see it now; it was formed of three large plates of gold ornamented with grotesque animals, and joined by a filigree network.  I valued this bracelet; it had been brought to me from Teheran.  By means of a secret spring, one of the plates opened, and I had had engraved inside the most interesting dates of my life, and underneath them my profession of faith, with which you have no concern.  Ah! my dear, when one has once been touched by that dangerous passion called philanthropy, one becomes capable of exchanging a Persian bracelet for a Samuel Brohl, and I swear to you that it was a real fool’s bargain that I made.  This miserable fellow paid me badly for my kindness to him.  I sent him to the university, and later I took him into my service as secretary.  He had a black heart.  One fine morning, he took to his heels and disappeared.”

“That was revolting ingratitude,” interrupted Antoinette, “and your good work, madame, was poorly recompensed; but I do not see what relation Samuel Brohl can have to my marriage.”

“You are too impatient, my darling.  If you had given me time I would have told you that I had had the very unexpected pleasure of dining yesterday with him at Mme. de Lorcy’s.  This German has made great advances since I lost sight of him; not content with becoming a Pole, he is now a person of vast importance.  He is called Count Abel Larinski, and he is to marry very soon Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz.”

The blood rushed into Antoinette’s cheeks, and her eyes flashed fire.  Princess Gulof entirely mistook the sentiment that animated her, and said:  “My dear, don’t be angry, don’t be indignant, your indignation will not help you at all.  Without doubt, a rascal capable of deceiving such a charming girl as you deserves death ten times over; but be careful not to make an exposure!  My dear, scandal always splashes mud over every one concerned, and there is a rather vulgar but exceedingly sensible Turkish proverb that says that the more garlic is crushed, the stronger becomes its odour.  Believe me, you would not come off without a tinge of ridicule; certain mistakes always appear a little ridiculous, and it is useless to proclaim them to the universe.  Thank Heaven! you are not yet the Countess Larinski—­I arrived in time to save you.  Be silent about the discovery you have just made; by no means mention it to Samuel Brohl, and seek a proper pretext to break with him.  You would not be a woman if you could not find ten for one.”