lings of these two had hollowed out a great gulf between them.

The Comtesse de Serizy, the Marquis de Ronquerolles' sister, gave a
great ball at the beginning of the following week, and Mme de Langeais
was sure to go to it. Armand was the first person whom the Duchess saw
when she came into the room, and this time Armand was looking out for
her, or so she thought at least. The two exchanged a look, and suddenly
the woman felt a cold perspiration break from every pore. She had
thought all along that Montriveau was capable of taking reprisals in
some unheard-of way proportioned to their condition, and now the revenge
had been discovered, it was ready, heated, and boiling. Lightnings
flashed from the foiled lover's eyes, his face was radiant with exultant
vengeance. And the Duchess? Her eyes were haggard in spite of her
resolution to be cool and insolent. She went to take her place beside
the Comtesse de Serizy, who could not help exclaiming, "Dear Antoinette!
what is the matter with you? You are enough to frighten one."

"I shall be all right after a quadrille," she answered, giving a hand to
a young man who came up at that moment.

Mme de Langeais waltzed that evening with a sort of excitement and
transport which redoubled Montriveau's lowering looks. He stood in front
of the line of spectators, who were amusing themselves by looking on.
Every time that _she_ came past him, his eyes darted down upon her
eddying face; he might have been a tiger with the prey in his grasp. The
waltz came to an end, Mme de Langeais went back to her place beside the
Countess, and Montriveau never took his eyes off her, talking all the
while with a stranger.

"One of the things that struck me most on the journey," he was saying
(and the Duchess listened with all her ears), "was the remark which the
man makes at Westminster when you are shown the axe with which a man in
a mask cut off Charles the First's head, so they tell you. The King made
it first of all to some inquisitive person, and they repeat it still in
memory of him."

"What does the man say?" asked Mme de Serizy.

"'Do not touch the axe!'" replied Montriveau, and there was menace in
the sound of his voice.

"Really, my Lord Marquis," said Mme de Langeais, "you tell this old
story that everybody knows if they have been to London, and look at my
neck in such a melodramatic way that you seem to me to have an axe in
your hand."

The Duchess was in a cold sweat, but nevertheles