Unconsciously, almost, Daniel turned towards the door, behind which M. de Brevan was listening.  Perhaps he expected him to come forth; but Maxime did not stir.

“Sarah’s previous life!” continued the count.  “I know every hour of it; and I can answer for it as for my own.  The darling!  Before consenting to be mine, she insisted upon my knowing every thing, yes, every thing, without reserve or boastfulness; and I know what she has suffered.  Did they not actually say she had been the accomplice of a wretched thief, a cashier of some bank, who had become a defaulter?  Did they not say that she had driven a foolish young man, a gambler, to commit suicide; and that she had watched, unmoved, the tortures of his agony?  Ah! you have only to look at Miss Brandon to know that these vile stories are wretched inventions of malicious enemies and rivals.  And look here, Daniel; you may believe me; whenever you see people calumniate a man or a woman, you may rest assured that that man or woman has, somehow or other, wounded or humiliated some vulgar person, some mean, envious fool, who cannot endure his or her superiority in point of fortune, rank, or beauty and talent.”

He had actually recovered his youthful energy in thus defending his beloved.  His eye brightened up; his voice became strong, and his gestures animated.

“But no more of that painful topic,” he said:  “let us talk seriously.”

He rose, and leaning on the mantelpiece, so as to face Daniel, he said,—­

“I told you, my dear Daniel, that Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian insisted upon certain conditions before they consented to our marriage.  One is, that Miss Brandon is to be received by my relations as she deserves to be, not only respectfully, but affectionately, even tenderly.  As to relations, there is not any.  I have some remote cousins, who, having nothing to expect from me when I die, do not trouble themselves any more about me than I trouble myself about them.  But I have a daughter; and there is the danger.  I know she is distressed at the idea of my marrying again.  She cannot bear the mere idea that another woman is to take the place of her mother, to bear her name, and to rule in my house.”

Daniel began at last to know what he had to understand by that unsuccessful appointment which had procured him the pleasure of a visit from Count Ville-Handry.

“Now,” continued the latter, “I know my daughter.  She is her mother over again, weak, but obstinate beyond endurance.  If she has taken it into her head to receive Miss Brandon uncivilly, she will do so, in spite of all she has promised me, and she will make a terrible scene of it.  And if Miss Brandon consents, in spite of all, to go on, my house will become a hell to me, and my wife will suffer terribly.  Now the question is, whether I have sufficient influence over Henrietta to bring her to reason.  I think not.  But this influence which I have not—­a very nice young man may have it; and that man is you.”