. Armande began anxiously.

"Yes, things that cannot be told to M. le Marquis; he would drop down in
an apoplectic fit."

"Speak out," she said. With her beautiful head leant on the back of her
low chair, and her arms extended listlessly by her side, she looked as
if she were waiting passively for her deathblow.

"Mademoiselle, M. le Comte, with all his cleverness, is a plaything in
the hands of mean creatures, petty natures on the lookout for a crushing
revenge. They want to ruin us and bring us low! There is the President
of the Tribunal, M. de Ronceret; he has, as you know, a very great
notion of his descent----"

"His grandfather was an attorney," interposed Mlle. Armande.

"I know he was. And for that reason you have not received him; nor does
he go to M. de Troisville's, nor to M. le Duc de Verneuil's, nor to the
Marquis de Casteran's; but he is one of the pillars of du Croisier's
salon. Your nephew may rub shoulders with young M. Fabien du Ronceret
without condescending too far, for he must have companions of his own
age. Well and good. That young fellow is at the bottom of all M. le
Comte's follies; he and two or three of the rest of them belong to the
other side, the side of M. le Chevalier's enemy, who does nothing but
breathe threats of vengeance against you and all the nobles together.
They all hope to ruin you through your nephew. The ringleader of the
conspiracy is this sycophant of a du Croisier, the pretended Royalist.
Du Croisier's wife, poor thing, knows nothing about it; you know her,
I should have heard of it before this if she had ears to hear evil.
For some time these wild young fellows were not in the secret, nor was
anybody else; but the ringleaders let something drop in jest, and then
the fools got to know about it, and after the Count's recent escapades
they let fall some words while they were drunk. And those words were
carried to me by others who are sorry to see such a fine, handsome,
noble, charming lad ruining himself with pleasure. So far people feel
sorry for him; before many days are over they will--I am afraid to say
what----"

"They will despise him; say it out, Chesnel!" Mlle. Armande cried
piteously.

"Ah! How can you keep the best people in the town from finding out
faults in their neighbors? They do not know what to do with themselves
from morning to night. And so M. le Comte's losses at play are all
reckoned up. Thirty thousand francs have taken flight during these two
m