e drawing-room of the Duchesse de Mortemain."

"Who told it to you? A woman, no doubt," said Bertin.

"No, not at all; it was the Marquis de Farandal."

The painter, irritated still further, retorted: "That does not astonish
me--from him!"

There was a brief silence. The Countess took up her work again.
Presently Olivier said in a calmer voice: "I know for a fact that that
story is false."

In reality, he knew nothing whatever about it, having heard it mentioned
then for the first time.

Musadieu thought it wise to prepare the way for his retreat, feeling
the situation rather dangerous; and he was just beginning to say that
he must pay a visit at the Corbelles' that evening when the Comte de
Guilleroy appeared, returning from dining in the city.

Bertin sat down again, overcome, and despairing now of getting rid of
the husband.

"You haven't heard, have you, of the great scandal that is running all
over town this evening?" inquired the Count pleasantly.

As no one answered, he continued: "It seems that Rocdiane surprised
his wife in a criminal situation, and has made her pay dearly for her
indiscretion."

Then Bertin, with his melancholy air, with grief in voice and gesture,
placing one hand on Guilleroy's shoulder, repeated in a gentle and
amicable manner all that he had just said so roughly to Musadieu.

The Count, half convinced, annoyed to have allowed himself to repeat
so lightly a doubtful and possibly compromising thing, pleaded his
ignorance and his innocence. The gossips said so many false and wicked
things!

Suddenly, all agreed upon this statement: the world certainly accused,
suspected, and calumniated with deplorable facility! All four appeared
to be convinced, during the next five minutes, that all the whispered
scandals were lies; that the women did not have the lovers ascribed to
them; that the men never committed the sins they were accused of; and,
in short, that the outward appearance of things was usually much worse
than the real situation.

Bertin, who no longer felt vexed with Musadieu since De Guilleroy's
arrival, was now very pleasant to him, led him to talk on his favorite
subjects, and opened the sluices of his eloquence. The Count wore the
contented air of a man who carries everywhere with him an atmosphere of
peace and cordiality.

Two servants noiselessly entered the drawing-room, bearing the
tea-table, on which the boiling water steamed in a pretty, shining
kettle over the