,--

"'As I shall travel entirely _en garcon_, of course it will
be impossible for Madeleine to accompany me, but an
admirable opportunity presents itself for placing her in a
situation that is very suitable. My friend, Lady Vivian, of
Edinburgh, who forms one of the party here, is in search of
an humble companion. I have spoken to her ladyship
concerning Madeleine. She made some slight demur on account
of the young lady's attractive person, but finally consented
to offer her this situation.'"

"A de Gramont hired out as an humble companion! What an indignity!"
ejaculated the countess.

The count continued reading,--

"'I will myself write to Madeleine and apprise her of what I
have done, and present the many advantages of such a
position.'"

"She must not receive the letter!" said the countess, earnestly. "She is
capable of accepting this offer for the sake of wounding us. But Count
Damoreau has insulted us grossly. How has he dared to entertain such an
offer for a member of our family,--one in whose veins flows the same
untainted blood? Why do you not speak, my son? But indignation may well
deprive you of speech!"

"I can only say that in _some manner we must at once rid ourselves of
Madeleine_."

"I would rather see her dead than in a situation which disgraced her
noble name," answered the countess, violently.

"I quite agree with you," returned the count, with a sardonic look;
"but, unfortunately, life and death are not in our hands!"

As he spoke, there was a gleam in his malignant eye, almost murderous.
His foot was lifted to crush the worm in his path, and, could he have
trodden it out of existence in secret, the deed would have been
accomplished with exultation. His hatred for Madeleine had strengthened
into a fierce passion as his fears that Maurice loved her threatened to
be confirmed. Far from sharing his mother's indignation at the proposal
of Count Damoreau, he had made up his mind to force Madeleine into
acceptance, if no other presented itself for freeing the chateau from
her presence.

CHAPTER VII.

A CRISIS.

Count Tristan was in the heat of argument with his haughty mother, when
the door of the library opened, and Madeleine entered. One who had
beheld the tempestuous burst of grief, the torrent of tears, the
heart-rending despair that convulsed her frame but half an hour before,
in the little _chalet_, would scarcely