ald, with gloomy eyes, folded his arms across his
breast, and with one hand curled and uncurled the drooping ends of his
mustache; the Colonel frowned and rubbed the gray bristles on his upper
lip; the countess twisted and untwisted her handkerchief; Madame alone
evinced no agitation, unless the perpendicular line above her nose could
have been a sign of such. This lengthened and deepened as her glance met
the prisoner's.

He eyed them all with an indifference which was tinctured with contempt
and amusement.

"Well, Monsieur Carewe," said Madame, coldly, "what have you to say?"

"A number of things, Madame," he answered, in a tone which bordered the
insolent; "only they would not be quite proper for you to hear."

The Colonel's hand slid from his lip over his mouth; he shuffled his
feet and stared at the bayonets and the grease spots on the table.

"Carewe," said Fitzgerald, endeavoring to speak calmly, "you have broken
your word to me as a gentleman and you have lied to me."

The reply was an expressive monosyllable, "O!"

"Do you deny it?" demanded the Englishman.

"Deny what?" asked Maurice.

"The archbishop," said Madame, "assumed the aggressive last night. To be
aggressive one must possess strength. Monsieur, how much did he pay for
those consols? Come, tell me; was he liberal? It is evident that you are
not a man of business. I should have been willing to pay as much as
a hundred thousand crowns. Come; acknowledge that you have made a bad
stroke." She bent her head to one side, and a derisive smile lifted the
corners of her lips.

A dull red flooded the prisoner's cheeks. "I do not understand you."

"You lie!" Fitzgerald stepped closer and his hands closed menacingly.

"Thank you," said Maurice, "thank you. But why not complete the
melodrama by striking, since you have doubled your fists?"

Fitzgerald glared at him.

"Monsieur," interposed the countess, "do not forget that you are a
gentleman; Monsieur Carewe's hands are tied."

"Unfortunately," observed Maurice.

Madame looked curiously at the countess, while Fitzgerald drew back to
the table and rested on it.

"I can not comprehend how you dared return," Madame resumed. "One who
watches over my affairs has informed me of your dishonorable act."

"What do you call a dishonorable act?" Maurice inquired quietly.

"One who breaks his sacred promise!" quickly.

The prisoner laughed maliciously. Madame had answered the question as he
hoped she