ained that Bertha had taken a capricious fancy
to Madame de Castro, but in course of time he found his way to the old
woman's _salon_ too, though it must be confessed that Madame herself
never showed him any great favor. But this he did not care for. He only
cared to sit in the same room with Bertha, and watch her every movement
with a miserable tenderness.

One night, after regarding him cynically for some time, Madame broke out
to Bertha with small ceremony:--

"What a fool that young man is!" she exclaimed. "He sits and fairly
devours you with his eyes. It is bad taste to show such an insane
passion for a married woman."

It seemed as if Bertha lost at once her breath and every drop of blood
in her body, for she had neither breath nor color when she turned and
looked Madame de Castro in the face.

"Madame," she said, "if you repeat that to me, you will never see me
again--never!"

Upon which Madame snapped her up with some anger at being so rebuked for
her frankness.

"Then it is worse than I thought," she said.

It was weeks before she saw her young friend again. Indeed, it required
some clever diplomacy to heal the breach made, and even in her most
amusing and affectionate moods, she often felt afterward that she was
treated with a reserve which held her at arm's length.

By the time the horse-chestnuts bloomed pink and white on the Avenue des
Champs Elysees, there were few people in the Trent and Villefort circles
who had not their opinions on the subject of Madame Villefort and her
cousin.

There was a mixture of French and American gossip and comment, frank
satire, or secret remark. But to her credit be it spoken, Madame de
Castro held grim silence, and checked a rumor occasionally with such
amiable ferocity as was not without its good effect.

The pink and white blossoms were already beginning to strew themselves
at the feet of the pedestrians, when one morning M. Villefort presented
himself to Madame, and discovered her sitting alone in the strangest of
moods.

"I thought I might have the pleasure of driving home with Madame
Villefort. My servant informed me that I should find her here."

Madame de Castro pointed to a chair.

"Sit down," she commanded.

M. Villefort obeyed her in some secret but well-concealed amazement.
He saw that she was under the influence of some unusual excitement. Her
false front was pushed fantastically away, her rouge and powder were
rubbed off in patches, her face