paths about the house every evening for the last
month, and found no trace of footsteps in the morning."

"Rakes are neither costly nor difficult to handle," remarked the
daughter of Germany.

"But the dogs?" cried Dumay.

"Lovers have philters even for dogs," answered Madame Mignon.

"If you are right, my honor is lost! I may as well blow my brains out,"
exclaimed Dumay.

"Why so, Dumay?" said the blind woman.

"Ah, madame, I could never meet my colonel's eye if he did not find his
daughter--now his only daughter--as pure and virtuous as she was when
he said to me on the vessel, 'Let no fear of the scaffold hinder you,
Dumay, if the honor of my Modeste is at stake.'"

"Ah! I recognize you both," said Madame Mignon in a voice of strong
emotion.

"I'll wager my salvation that Modeste is as pure as she was in her
cradle," exclaimed Madame Dumay.

"Well, I shall make certain of it," replied her husband, "if Madame
la Comtesse will allow me to employ certain means; for old troopers
understand strategy."

"I will allow you to do anything that shall enlighten us, provided it
does no injury to my last child."

"What are you going to do, Jean?" asked Madame Dumay; "how can you
discover a young girl's secret if she means to hide it?"

"Obey me, all!" cried the lieutenant, "I shall need every one of you."

If this rapid sketch were clearly developed it would give a whole
picture of manners and customs in which many a family could recognize
the events of their own history; but it must suffice as it is to explain
the importance of the few details heretofore given about persons and
things on the memorable evening when the old soldier had made ready his
plot against the young girl, intending to wrench from the recesses of
her heart the secret of a love and a lover seen only by a blind mother.

CHAPTER V. THE PROBLEM STILL UNSOLVED

An hour went by in solemn stillness broken only by the cabalistic
phrases of the whist-players: "Spades!" "Trumped!" "Cut!" "How are
honors?" "Two to four." "Whose deal?"--phrases which represent in these
days the higher emotions of the European aristocracy. Modeste continued
to work, without seeming to be surprised at her mother's silence.
Madame Mignon's handkerchief slipped from her lap to the floor; Butscha
precipitated himself upon it, picked it up, and as he returned it
whispered in Modeste's ear, "Take care!" Modeste raised a pair of
wondering eyes, whose puzzled glance f