But the old gentleman continued, as if he had heard nothing,—­

“What Sarah did during the three first months of her freedom, I cannot tell.  If she went and rented furnished lodgings, she did it under a false name.  A clerk in the mayor’s office, who is a great lover of curiosities, and for whom I have procured many a good bargain, had all the lists of lodging-houses for the four months from April to July carefully examined; but no Ernestine Bergot could be found.

“I am quite sure, however, that she thought of the stage.  One of the former secretaries of the Lyric Theatre told me he recollected distinctly a certain Ernestine, beautiful beyond description, who, came several times, and requested a trial.  She was, however, refused, simply because her pretensions were almost ridiculous.  And this was quite natural; for her head was still full of all the ambitious dreams of the old artist.

“The first positive trace I find of Sarah in that year appears towards the end of summer.  She was then living in a fashionable street with a young painter full of talent, and very rich, called Planix.  Did she really love him?  The friends of the unfortunate young man were sure she did not.  But he—­he worshipped her; he loved her passionately, madly, and was so absurdly jealous, that he became desperate if she stayed out an hour longer than he expected.  Hence she often complained of his love, which restrained her cherished liberty; and still she bore it patiently till fate threw in her way Maxime de Brevan.”

At the name of the wretch who had been so bent upon ruining them both, and who had been so nearly successful, Henrietta and Daniel trembled, and looked at each other.  But Papa Ravinet did not give them, time to ask any questions, and continued, as calmly as if he had been reading a report,—­

“It was several years before this, that Justin Chevassat, released from the galleys, had made a nobleman of himself, and claimed before all the world to be Maxime de Brevan.  We need not be surprised, in this age of ours, where impudence takes the place of everything else, that he should have promptly succeeded in making his way into high life, and in being admitted to many houses which were considered more or less exclusive.  In a society which seems to have adopted for its motto the words ‘Toleration and Discretion,’ and where, consequently, anybody is admitted without question, Justin Chevassat very naturally had a great success.  He had carefully prepared his way, like those adventurers who never appear abroad without having their passports in much better order than most honest travellers.  He had learned prudence by experience; for his antecedents were stormy enough, though less so than Sarah’s.