rom Sabine's eyes which had
hitherto been dry.

Pretty Madame de Portenduere, holding in her hand the fatal letter, the
perfume of which Sabine again inhaled, was at first stupefied by this
true sorrow, shocked by this agony of love, without as yet understanding
it, in spite of Sabine's incoherent attempts to relate the facts.
Suddenly Ursula was illuminated by one of those ideas which come to none
but sincere friends.

"I must save her!" she thought to herself. "Trust me, Sabine," she
cried. "Wait for my return; I will find out the truth."

"Ah! in my grave I'll love you," exclaimed Sabine.

The viscountess went straight to the Duchesse de Grandlieu, pledged her
to secrecy, and then explained to her fully her daughter's situation.

"Madame," she said as she ended, "do you not think with me, that
in order to avoid some fatal illness--perhaps, I don't know, even
madness--we had better confide the whole truth to the doctor, and invent
some tale to clear that hateful Calyste and make him seem for the time
being innocent?"

"My dear child," said the duchess, who was chilled to the heart by this
confidence, "friendship has given you for the moment the experience of a
woman of my age. I know how Sabine loves her husband; you are right, she
might become insane."

"Or lose her beauty, which would be worse," said the viscountess.

"Let us go to her!" cried the duchess.

Fortunately they arrived a few moments before the famous _accoucheur_,
Dommanget, the only one of the two men of science whom Calyste had been
able to find.

"Ursula has told me everything," said the duchess to her daughter, "and
you are mistaken. In the first place, Madame de Rochefide is not in
Paris. As for what your husband did yesterday, my dear, I can tell you
that he lost a great deal of money at cards, so that he does not even
know how to pay for your dressing-table."

"But _that?_" said Sabine, holding out to her mother the fatal letter.

"That!" said the duchess, laughing; "why, that is written on the Jockey
Club paper; everybody writes nowadays on coroneted paper; even our
stewards will soon be titled."

The prudent mother threw the unlucky paper into the fire as she spoke.

When Calyste and Dommanget arrived, the duchess, who had given
instructions to the servants, was at once informed. She left Sabine
to the care of Madame de Portenduere and stopped the _accoucheur_ and
Calyste in the salon.

"Sabine's life is at stake, monsieur,"