“Do you think I am afraid of your reporting me to him?  You are at liberty to try it.  Listen.  I think I hear your father’s footstep in the vestibule; call him in, and tell him what we have been talking about.”

And, as Henrietta said nothing, she laughed, and said,—­

“Ah! you hesitate.  You do not dare do it?  Well, you are wrong.  I mean to hand him your letter, and I shall call him.”

There was no need for it; for at the same moment the count entered, followed by austere, grim Mrs. Brian.  As he perceived his wife and his daughter, his face lighted up immediately; and he exclaimed,—­

“What?  You are here, both of you, and chatting amicably like two charming sisters?  My Henrietta has come back to her senses, I trust.”

They were both silent; and, seeing how they looked at each other with fierce glances, he went on in a tone of great bitterness—­

“But no, it is not so!  I am not so fortunate.  What is the matter?  What has happened?”

The countess shook her head sadly, and replied,—­

“The matter is, that your daughter, during your absence, has written a letter to one of my most cruel enemies, to that man who, you know, on our wedding-day, slandered me meanly; in fine, to the Duke of Champdoce!”

“And has any one of my servants dared to carry that letter?”

“No, my friend!  It was brought to me in obedience to your orders; and the young lady summoned me haughtily to hand her that letter.”

“That letter?” cried the count.  “Where is that letter?”

The countess gave it to him with these words,—­

“Perhaps it would be better to throw it into the fire without reading it.”

But already he had torn the envelope; and, as he was reading the first lines, a crimson blush overspread his temples, and his eyes became bloodshot.  For Henrietta, sure of the Duke of Champdoce, had not hesitated to open her heart to him, describing her situation as it really was; painting her step-mother as he had anticipated she would be; and at every turn certain phrases were repeated, which were so many blows with a dagger to the count.

“This is unheard of!” he growled with a curse.  “This is incomprehensible!  Such perversity has never been known before.”

He went and stood before his daughter, his arms crossed, and cried with a voice of thunder,—­

“Wretch!  Will you disgrace us all?”

She made no reply.  Immovable like a statue, she did not tremble under the storm.  Besides, what could she do?  Defend herself?  She would not stoop to do that.  Repeat the impudent avowals of the countess?  What would be the use?  Did she not know beforehand that the count would not believe her?  In the meantime, grim Mrs. Brian had taken a seat by the side of her beloved Sarah.

“I,” she said, “if I were, for my sins, afflicted with such a daughter, I would get her a husband as soon as possible.”