e end of the terrace, and M. Langis arose to join him. Antoinette
remained alone with Samuel Brohl, who at once rather brusquely asked:

"Has M. Langis the intention of remaining here forever?"

"He has only just arrived," she replied.

"And you will send him away soon?"

"I thought so little of sending him away that I asked him to dinner, in
order to give you an opportunity of becoming more fully acquainted with
him."

"I thank you for your amiable intentions, but M. Langis pleases me
little."

"What have you against him?"

"I have met him sometimes at Mme. de Lorcy's, and he always has shown me
a most dubious politeness. I scent in him an enemy."

"Pure imagination! M. Langis has been my friend from childhood up, and I
have forewarned him that it is his duty to love the people whom I love."

"I mistrust these childhood's friends," said he, growing excited. "I
should not wonder if this youth was in love with you."

"Ah, indeed! then you should have heard him but now. He has been
reminding me, this youth, that two years ago he sought my hand, and
he assured me that forty-eight hours sufficed to console him for my
refusal."

"I did not know that the case was so grave, or the personage so
dangerous. Truly, do you mean to keep him to dinner?"

"I invited him; can I retract?"

"Very well, I will leave the place," he cried, rising.

She uplifted her eyes to his face and remained transfixed with
astonishment, so completely was his face transformed. His contracted
brows formed an acute angle, and he had a sharp, hard, evil air. This
was a Larinski with whom she was not yet acquainted, or rather it was
Samuel Brohl who had just appeared to her--Samuel Brohl, who had
entered upon the scene as suddenly as though he had emerged from a magic
surprise-box. She could not remove her eyes from him, and he at once
perceived the impression he was making on her. Forthwith Samuel Brohl
re-entered his box, whose cover closed over him, and it was a true Pole
who said to Mlle. Moriaz, in a grave, melancholy, and respectful tone:

"Pardon me, I am not always master of my impressions."

"That is right," said she; "and you will remain, won't you?"

"Impossible," he replied; "I should be cross, and you would not be
pleased."

She urged him; he opposed her entreaties with a polite but firm
resistance.

"Adieu," said she. "When shall I see you again?"

"To-morrow--or the day after--I do not know."

"Really, do you not kno