“In the first place,” said M. de Brevan, apparently trying to collect his thoughts, “bear this in mind, madam.  You are ruined in reputation, and ruined through me.  All Paris is convinced, by this time, that I have run away with you; and that I keep you concealed in a charming place, where we enjoy our mutual love; in fact, that you are my mistress.”

He seemed to expect an explosion of wrath.  By no means!  Henrietta remained motionless like a statue.

“What would you have?” he went on in a tone of sarcasm.  “My coachman has been talking.  Two friends of mine, who reached the palace on foot when I drove up, saw you jump into my coupe; and, as if that had not been enough, that absurd M. Elgin must needs call me out.  We had a duel, and I have wounded him.”

The manner in which the young girl shrugged her shoulders showed but too clearly that she did not believe M. de Brevan.  He added,—­

“If you doubt it, madam, pray read this, then, at the top of the second column.”

She took the paper which he offered her, and there she read,—­

“Yesterday, in the woods near Vincennes, a duel with swords was fought between M. M. de B——­ and one of the most distinguished members of our American colony.  After five minutes’ close combat, M. E——­ was wounded in the arm.  It is said that the sudden and very surprising disappearance of one of the greatest heiresses of the Faubourg Saint Germain was not foreign to this duel.  Lucky M. de B——­ is reported to know too much of the beautiful young lady’s present home for the peace of the family.  But surely these lines ought to be more than enough on the subject of an adventure which will ere long, no doubt, end in a happy and brilliant marriage.”

“You see, madam,” said M. de Brevan, when he thought Henrietta had had time enough to read the article, “you see it is not I who advise marriage.  If you will become my wife, your honor is safe.”

“Ah, sir!”

In that simple utterance there was so much contempt, and such profound disgust, that M. de Brevan seemed to turn, if possible, whiter than before.

“Ah!  I see you prefer marrying M. Thomas Elgin,” he said.

She only shrugged her shoulders; but he went on,—­

“Oh, do not smile!  He or I; you have no other alternative.  Sooner or later you will have to choose.”

“I shall not choose, sir.”

“Oh, just wait till poverty has come!  Then you think, perhaps, you will only need to implore your father to come to your assistance.  Do not flatter yourself.  Your father has no other will but that of the Countess Sarah; and the Countess Sarah will have it so, that you marry Sir Thorn.”

“I shall not appeal to my father, sir.”

“Then you probably count upon Daniel’s return?  Ah, believe me! do not indulge in such dreams.  I have told you Daniel loves the Countess Sarah; and, even if he did not love her, you have been too publicly disgraced for him ever to give you his name.  But that is nothing yet.  Go to the navy department, and they will tell you that ‘The Conquest’ is out on a cruise of two years more.  At the time when Daniel returns, if he returns at all (which is very far from being certain), you will long since have become Mrs. Elgin or Madame de Brevan, unless”—­