Henrietta had even to acknowledge that they had been considerate.  Her plate had not been put by her mother-in-law.  A seat had been kept for her between Mrs. Brian and M. Elgin.  She sat down, and, while eating, watched stealthily, and with all her powers of observation, these strangers who were henceforth the masters of her destiny, and whom she now saw for the first time; for yesterday she had hardly perceived them.

She was at once struck, painfully struck, with the dazzling, marvellous beauty of Countess Sarah, although she had been shown her photograph by her father, and ought thus to have been prepared.  It was evident that the young countess had barely taken time to put on a wrapper before coming down to breakfast.  Her complexion was more animated than usually.  She exhibited all the touching confusion of a young bride, and was constantly more or less embarrassed.

Henrietta comprehended but too well the influence such a woman was likely to have over an old man who had fallen in love with her.  It made her tremble.  But grim Mrs. Brian appeared to her hardly less formidable.  She could read nothing in her dull, heavy eye but cold wickedness; nothing in her lean, yellow face but an implacable will; all the wrinkles seemed to be permanently graven in wax.

She thought, after all, the least to be feared was tall, stiff M. Thomas Elgin.  Seated by her, he had shown her discreetly some little attentions; and, when she observed him more closely, she discovered in his eyes something like commiseration.

“And yet,” she thought, “it was against him that M. de Brevan warned me particularly.”

But breakfast was over.  Henrietta rose, and having bowed, without saying a word, was going back to her room when she met on the stairs some of the servants, who were carrying a heavy wardrobe.  Upon inquiry she learned that, as Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian were hereafter to live in the palace, they were bringing up their furniture.

She shook her head sadly; but in her rooms a greater surprise was awaiting her.  Three servants were hard at work taking down her furniture, under the direction of M. Ernest, the count’s valet.

“What are you doing there?” she asked, and “Who has permitted you?”

“We are only obeying the orders of the count, your father,” replied M. Ernest.  “We are getting your rooms ready for Madam Brian.”

And, turning round to his colleagues, he said,—­

“Go on, men!  Take out that sofa; now!”

Overcome with surprise, Henrietta remained petrified where she was, looking at the servants as they went on with their work.  What?  These eager adventurers had taken possession of the palace, they invaded it, they reigned here absolutely, and that was not enough for them!  They meant to take from her even the rooms she had occupied, she, the daughter of their dupe, the only heiress of Count Ville-Handry!  This impudence seemed to her so monstrous, that unable to believe it, and yielding to a sudden impulse, she went back to the dining-room, and, addressing her father, said to him,—­