ry--at Besancon. No one knows the exact truth
about the affair."

"What! not even you?"

"Oh! I--that's an entirely different thing. When I entered the count's
service, six years later, there was still an old gardener who knew the
whole story, and who told it to me, making me swear that I would never
betray his confidence."

Lavish of details as she had been in telling her own story, it was
evident that she was determined to exercise a prudent reserve in
everything connected with the De Chalusse family; and M. Fortunat
inwardly cursed this, to him, most unseasonable discretion. But he was
experienced in these examinations, and he had at his command little
tricks for loosening tongues, which even an investigating magistrate
might have envied. Without seeming to attach the slightest importance to
Madame Vantrasson's narrative, he rose with a startled air, like a
man who suddenly realizes that he has forgotten himself. "Zounds!" he
exclaimed, "we sit here gossiping, and it's growing late. I really can't
wait for your husband. If I remain here any longer, I shall miss the
last omnibus; and I live on the other side of the river, near the
Luxembourg."

"But our agreement, monsieur?"

"We will draw that up at some future time. I shall be passing again, or
I will send one of my colleagues to see you."

It was Madame Vantrasson's turn to tremble now. She feared, if she
allowed this supposed clerk to go without signing the agreement, that
the person who came in his stead might not prove so accommodating; and
even if he called again himself, he might not be so kindly disposed.
"Wait just a moment longer, monsieur," she pleaded; "my husband will
soon be back, and the last omnibus doesn't leave the Rue de Levis until
midnight."

"I wouldn't refuse, but this part of the suburbs is so lonely."

"Vantrasson will see you on your way." And, resolved to detain him at
any cost, she poured out a fresh glass of liquor for him, and said:
"Where were we? Oh, yes! I was about to tell you Mademoiselle Hermine's
story."

Concealing his delight with an assumed air of resignation, M. Fortunat
reseated himself, to the intense disgust of Chupin, who was thoroughly
tired of waiting outside in the cold.

"I must tell you," began Madame Vantrasson, "that when this happened--at
least twenty-five years ago--the De Chalusse family lived in the Rue
Saint-Dominique. They occupied a superb mansion, with extensive grounds,
full of splendid trees