Gradually, and while listening to him, the countess recovered her calmness.

“My husband will be happy to serve a countryman of his,” she replied; “and he will tell you so himself, if you will be kind enough to wait for him, and stay to dinner.”

Daniel did stay.  At table he was placed by the side of Henrietta, who was then fifteen years old; and the countess, seeing these two young and handsome people side by side, was suddenly struck with an idea which seemed to her nothing less than inspiration from on high.  Why might she not intrust the future happiness of her daughter to the brother of the poor man who had loved her so dearly?  Thus she might make some amends for her own conduct, and show some respect to his memory.

“Yes,” she said to herself that night, before falling asleep, “it must be so.  Daniel shall be Henrietta’s husband.”

Thus it came about, that, only a fortnight later, Count Ville-Handry said to one of his intimate friends, pointing out Daniel,—­

“That young Champcey is a very remarkable young man; he has a great future before him.  And one of these days, when he is a lieutenant, and a few years older, if it should so happen that he liked Henrietta, and asked me for my consent, I should not say no.  The countess might think and say of it what she chooses, I am master.”

After that time Daniel became, unfortunately, a constant visitor at the house in Varennes Street.

He had not only obtained ample satisfaction at headquarters, but, by the powerful influence of certain high personages, he had been temporarily assigned to duty in the bureau of the navy department, with the promise of a better position in active service hereafter.

Thus Daniel and Henrietta saw a great deal of each other, and, to all appearances, began to love each other.

“O God!” thought the countess, “why are they not a few years older?”

The poor lady had for some months been troubled by dismal presentiments.  She felt as if she would not live long; and she trembled at the idea of leaving her child without any other protector but the count.

If Henrietta had at least known the truth, and, instead of admiring her father as a man of superior ability, learned to mistrust his judgment!  A hundred times the countess was on the point of revealing her secret.  Alas! her great delicacy always kept her from doing so.

One night, as she returned from a great ball, she suddenly was seized with vertigo.  She did not think much of it, but sent for a cup of tea.

When it came, she was standing before the fireplace, undoing her hair; but, instead of taking it, she suddenly raised her hand to her throat, uttered a hoarse sound, and fell back.

They raised her up.  In an instant the whole house was alive.  They sent for the doctors.  All was in vain.

The Countess Ville-Handry had died from disease of the heart.