ion. See, there is a simple transposition of an
item, which results in a difference of near ten thousand livres. It
appears there to have been made by the money lender for his greater
gain. You can study this copy before the Duke comes. Then you will be
quite prepared to point out this error and make the correction. Here
is his copy which he will sign."

"Ah, good," she said looking over the memorandum he had given her of
the amounts, with the correct calculations all neatly carried out.

"Well, that is enough for this morning; you may go; these things weary
me."

"Celeste, Celeste, how long is this to continue? will you never--"

"_Madame_," she corrected positively, rumpling and smoothing out again
the paper in her lap.

"As you will," with an air of hopeless protest. "Do you mean always to
send me away when our business is completed--?"

"Was it not our agreement?"

"Yes, but I thought--"

"You had no right to think."

"A man must needs think whether he will or no, what is of life itself.
Are you a woman of ice? Do you not realize I sell all I hold most
dear, the confidence born of a life-time's honest service to my King,
my own honor, only to serve you, to be with you?"

"I am weary. It is time for you to go."

"Yes, but is there nothing else? You agreed--"

"Oh, I know, why remind me?" She turned upon him fiercely. "Do you
wish to make me hate you? Now you are only an object of indifference,
objectionable to me as are all men who make love, and sigh, and worry
me. Do you wish me to hate and despise you more than the rest?"

"God forbid! But--"

"You still insist?"

"Yes, I must have my thirty pieces of silver, the price of my
treachery," de Valence returned bitterly; "men die in the Bastille for
lesser offenses than mine."

"That is your affair," the woman replied, without a shade of concern.

I thought I could perceive a growing embarrassment in her manner as de
Valence came closer to her, remembering, for so she must, that we could
hear every word through the portiere. She collected herself bravely;
de Valence must not suspect.

"Come, I'll pay you," and she put her lips upward so coolly I wondered
he should care to touch them. Jerome raged silently, for I confess we
were both guilty of looking as well as listening. De Valence leaned
over her, but lifted his head again.

"Celeste--Madame, so cold. I'd as lief kiss the marble lips of Diana
in the park."

"Oh, as you ple