As yet, however, his reputation remained uninjured.  No one suspected the truth.  They attributed the sudden failure of his faculties to the great sorrow that had befallen him in the death of his wife.

“Who would have thought that he had loved her so deeply?” they asked one another.

Henrietta was as much misled as the others, and perhaps even more.  Her respect and her admiration, so far from being diminished, only increased day by day.  She loved him all the more dearly as she watched the apparent effect of his incurable grief.

He was really deeply grieved, but only by his fall.  How had it come about?  He tortured his mind in vain; he could not find a plausible explanation, and said over and over again,—­

“It is perfectly inexplicable.”

He talked of regular plots, of a coalition of his enemies, of the black ingratitude of men, and their fickleness.  At first he had thought of going back to the country.  But gradually, as day followed day, and weeks grew into months, his wounded vanity began to heal; he forgot his misfortunes, and adopted new habits of life.

He was a great deal at his club now, rode much on horseback, went to the theatres, and dined with his friends.  Henrietta was delighted; for she had at one time begun to be seriously concerned for her father’s health.  But she was not a little amazed when she saw him lay aside his mourning, and exchange his simple costumes, suitable to his age, for the eccentric fashions of the day, wearing brilliant waistcoats and fancy-colored trousers.

Some days later matters grew worse.

One morning Count Ville-Handry, who was quite gray, appeared at breakfast with jet black beard and hair.  Henrietta could not restrain an expression of amazement.  But he smiled, and said with considerable embarrassment,—­

“My servant is making an experiment; he thinks this goes better with my complexion, and makes me look younger.”

Evidently something strange had occurred in the count’s life.  But what was it?

Henrietta, although ignorant of the world, and at that time innocence personified, was, nevertheless, a woman, and hence had the keen instinct of her sex, which is better than all experience.  She reflected, and she thought she could guess what had happened.

After hesitating for three days, the poor girl, saddened rather than frightened, confided her troubles to Daniel.  But she had only spoken a few words when he interrupted her, and, blushing deeply, said,—­

“Do not trouble yourself about that, Miss Henrietta; and, whatever your father may do, do not mind it.”