It might have been very dangerous for Henrietta to allow the count to cherish such thoughts.  Daniel, therefore, tried once more to explain.

“I assure you, count”—­

But the count interrupted him fiercely, stamping with his foot.

“No more!  I mean to make an end to this absurd opposition, and to break it forever.  Do they not know that I am master in my own house? and do they propose to treat me like a servant, and to laugh at me, into the bargain?  I shall make you aware who is master.”

He checked himself for an instant, and then continued,—­

“Ah, M. Champcey!  I did not expect that from you.  Poor Sarah!  To think that I could not spare her such a humiliation!  But it is the last; and this very morning, as soon as she wakes, she shall know that all is ended.  I have just sent for my daughter to tell her that the day for the wedding is fixed.  All the formalities are fulfilled.  We have the necessary papers”—­

He paused, for Henrietta came in.

“You wish to speak to me, papa?” she said as she entered the room.

“Yes.”

Greeting Daniel with a sweet glance of her eyes, Henrietta walked up to the count, and offered him her forehead to kiss; but he pushed her back rudely, and said, assuming an air of supreme solemnity,—­

“I have sent for you, my daughter, to inform you that to-morrow fortnight I shall marry Miss Brandon.”

Henrietta must have been prepared for something of the kind, for she did not move.  She turned slightly pale; and a ray of wrath shot from her eyes.  The count went on,—­

“Under these circumstances, it is not proper, it is hardly decent, that you should not know her who is to be your mother hereafter.  I shall therefore present you to her this very day, in the afternoon.”

The young girl shook her head gently, and then she said,—­

“No!”

Count Ville-Handry had become very red.  He exclaimed,—­

“What!  You dare!  What would you say if I threatened to carry you forcibly to Miss Brandon’s house?”

“I, should say, father, that that is the only way to make me go there.”

Her attitude was firm, though not defiant.  She spoke in a calm, gentle voice, but betrayed in every thing a resolution firmly formed, and not to be shaken by any thing.  The count seemed to be perfectly amazed at this audacity shown by a girl who was usually so timid.  He said,—­

“Then you detest, you envy, this Miss Brandon?”

“I, father?  Why should I?  Great God!  I only know that she cannot become the Countess Ville-Handry,—­she who has filled all Paris with evil reports.”

“Who has told you so?  No doubt, M. Champcey.”

“Everybody has told me, father.”

“So, because she has been slandered, the poor girl”—­

“I am willing to think she is innocent; but the Countess Ville-Handry must not be a slandered woman.”