A few months ago, so fearful and so sudden a catastrophe would have crushed Henrietta, in all probability.  But she had endured so many blows during the past year, that she bore this also; for it is a fact that the human heart learns to bear grief as the body learns to endure fatigue.  Moreover, she called in to her assistance a light shining high above all this terrible darkness,—­the remembrance of Daniel.

She had doubted him for an instant; but her faith had, after all, remained intact and perfect.  Her reason told her, that, if he had really loved Sarah Brandon, her enemies, M. Elgin and M. de Brevan, would not have taken such pains to make her believe it.  She thought, therefore, she was quite certain that he would return to her with his heart devoted to her as when he left her.

But, great God! to think of the grief and the rage of this man, when he should hear how wickedly and cowardly he had been betrayed by the man whom he called his friend!  He would know how to restore the count’s daughter to her proper position, and how to avenge her.

“And I shall wait for him,” she said, her teeth firmly set,—­“I shall wait for him!”

How?  She did not ask herself that question; for she was yet in that first stage of enthusiasm, when we are full of heroic resolves which do not allow us to see the obstacles that are to be overcome.  But she soon learned to know the first difficulties in her way, thanks to Dame Chevassat, who brought her her dinner as the clock struck six, according to the agreement they had made.

The estimable lady had assumed a deeply grieved expression; you might have sworn she had tears in her eyes.  In her sweetest voice, she asked:—­

“Well, well, my beautiful young lady; so you have quarrelled with our dear M. Maxime?”

Henrietta was so sure of the uselessness of replying, and so fearful of new dangers, that she simply replied,—­

“Yes, madam.”

“I was afraid of it,” replied the woman, “just from seeing him come down the stairs with a face as long as that.  You see, he is in love with you, that kind young man; and you may believe me when I tell you so, for I know what men are.”

She expected an answer; for generally her eloquence was very effective with her tenants.  But, as no reply came, she went on,—­

“We must hope that the trouble will blow over.”

“No!”

Looking at Mrs. Chevassat, one would have thought she was stunned.

“How savage you are!” she exclaimed at last.  “Well, it is your lookout.  Only I should like to know what you mean to do?”

“About what?”

“Why, about your board.”

“I shall find the means, madam, you may be sure.”

The old woman, however, who knew from experience what that cruel word, “living,” sometimes means with poor forsaken girls, shook her head seriously, and answered,—­

“So much the better; so much the better!  Only I know you owe a good deal of money.”