I knew monsieur was here, and as I feared some painful explanation, I
came to do my duty as a woman, and interpose."

"You need fear nothing, madame," I said; "evidently what is taking place
is the result of some misunderstanding."

"Ah! this is too much!" cried Monsieur de Lanty, reopening the drawer
from which he had taken the portfolio, and taking out a packet of
letters tied with a rose-colored ribbon. "I think these will put an end
to your _misunderstanding_."

I looked at the letters; they were not postmarked, and simply bore my
name, Monsieur Dorlange, in a woman's handwriting, which was unknown to
me.

"Monsieur," I said, "you know more than I do; you have in your
possession letters that seem to belong to me, but which I have never
received."

"Upon my word," cried Monsieur de Lanty, "you are an admirable comedian;
I never saw innocence better played."

"But, monsieur," I said, "who wrote those letters, and why are they
addressed to me?"

"It is useless to deny them, monsieur," said Madame de Lanty; "Marianina
has confessed all."

"Mademoiselle Marianina!" I exclaimed. "Then the matter is very simple;
have the goodness to bring us together; let me hear from her lips the
explanation of this singular affair."

"The evasion is clever," replied Monsieur de Lanty; "but my daughter
is no longer here: she is in a convent, forever sheltered from your
intrigues and the dangers of her own ridiculous passion. If that is
what you came to know, all is said. Let us part, for my patience and
moderation have a limit, if your insolence has none."

"Monsieur!" I began, angrily; but Madame de Lanty, who was standing
behind her husband, made me a gesture as if she would fall upon her
knees; and reflecting that perhaps Marianina's future depended on the
attitude I now took, I controlled myself and left the room without
further words.

The next morning, before I was out of bed, the Abbe Fontanon was
announced to me. When he entered he proved to be a tall old man with a
bilious skin and a sombre, stern expression, which he tried to soften by
a specious manner and a show of gentle but icy obsequiousness.

"Monsieur," he said, "Madame la Comtesse de Lanty, whose confessor I
have the honor to be, requests me to give you a few explanations, to
which you have an incontestable right, as to the scene that took place
last evening between her husband and yourself."

"I am ready to listen to you, monsieur," I replied.

"Monsi