In speaking thus, she took off her hat and mantilla, seated herself in the embrasure of a window, and opened a book which she began to read with great attention.

“God be praised! she does not love him,” thought Mlle. Moiseney, who was not aware that Mlle. Moriaz was turning two or three pages at a time with perceiving it.

Deeply absorbed as she was, she still recognised her father’s step as he came upstairs to his room.  She hurried out to meet him.  He noticed with pleasure that her face was not wan, nor were her eyes red.  He was less satisfied when she said, in a calm, clear voice: 

“Please show me the letter that you have received from Mme. de Lorcy.”

“What is the use?” he rejoined.  “I know it by heart.  I am ready to recite it to you.”

“Is it a letter that cannot be shown?”

“No, indeed; but as I tell you that I am ready to give you an account of it—­”

“I would prefer to read it with my own eyes.”

“After all, you have a right.  There! take it.  But I beg of you do not be offended by unfortunate expressions.”

“Mme. de Lorcy always knows how to choose the proper word to express her thought,” she responded.

When she had run her eye rapidly over Mme. de Lorcy’s eight closely written pages, she looked at her father and smiled.

“You must own that you found a very useful and a very zealous ally in Mme. de Lorcy; do her this justice, she has worked hard, and you owe her many thanks for having busied herself so actively in ridding you of ‘this worthy man, this good man, this delightful man’; those are her own words, if you remember.”

M. Moriaz exclaimed:  “I hope you do not imagine that it was a matter arranged between us.  Do you really suspect me of having some dark plot with Mme. de Lorcy!  Do you believe me capable of being implicated in an act of perfidy?”

“God forbid!  I only accuse you of being too joyous, and of not knowing how to conceal it.”

“Is that a crime?”

“Perhaps it is an indiscretion.”

“I swear to you, my dear child, that I only consider your happiness, and Mme. de Lorcy herself—­Since M. Langis no longer thinks of you, what reason could she have—­”

“I do not know,” interrupted Antoinette; “but her prejudice would take the place of reason.”

“So you will not believe that Count Larinski is married?”

“I believe it, without being certain, and I wish to be assured of it.  Have I not acted in good faith through all this matter? was I not ready to comply with your conditions?  I consented to refer to the judgment of Mme. de Lorcy.  She has deigned to be gracious to the accused.  She has admitted that M. Larinski is a perfectly honourable and even a delightful man; but she has discovered, at intervals of several days, first, that he does not love me, and then, that he has deceived me by letting me believe that he was still free.  I wish to satisfy my own mind, and convince myself that I am not being played with.”