s with the most unbounded
admiration; and she seemed to listen, if not with pleasure, at least
without repugnance. She now and then smiled, and coquettishly shrugged
her shoulders.

"Evidently," muttered the clown, "this noble scoundrel is paying court
to the banker's niece; so I was right yesterday. But how can Mlle.
Madeleine resign herself to so graciously receive his insipid flattery?
Fortunately, Prosper is not here now."

He was interrupted by an elderly man wrapped in a Venetian mantle, who
said to him:

"You remember, M. Verduret,"--this name was uttered half seriously, half
banteringly--"what you promised me?"

The clown bowed with great respect, but not the slightest shade of
humility.

"I remember," he replied.

"But do not be imprudent, I beg you."

"M. the Count need not be uneasy; he has my promise."

"Very good. I know the value of it."

The count walked off; but during this short colloquy the quadrille had
ended, and M. de Clameran and Madeleine were lost to sight.

"I shall find them near Mme. Fauvel," said the clown.

And he at once started in search of the banker's wife.

Incommoded by the stifling heat of the room, Mme. Fauvel had sought
a little fresh air in the grand picture-gallery, which, thanks to the
talisman called gold, was now transformed into a fairy-like garden,
filled with orange-trees, japonicas, laurel, and many rare exotics.

The clown saw her seated near a grove, not far from the door of the
card-room. Upon her right was Madeleine, and near her stood Raoul de
Lagors, dressed in a costume of Henri III.

"I must confess," muttered the clown from his post of observation, "that
the young scamp is a very handsome man."

Madeleine appeared very sad. She had plucked a japonica from a tree near
by, and was mechanically pulling it to pieces as she sat with her eyes
downcast.

Raoul and Mme. Fauvel were engaged in earnest conversation. Their faces
were composed, but the gestures of one and the trembling of the other
betrayed a serious discussion.

In the card-room sat the doge, M. de Clameran, so placed as to have
full view of Mme. Fauvel and Madeleine, although himself concealed by an
angle of the room.

"It is the continuation of yesterday's scene," thought the clown. "If
I could only get behind the oleander-tree, I might hear what they are
saying."

He pushed his way through the crowd, and, just as he had reached the
desired spot, Madeleine arose, and, taking the ar