s upon my life? Who could make capital out of the death
of an old lady of seventy-three, who never did harm to anybody in the
world except the miscreants and peace-breakers in the romances which
she writes herself, who makes middling verses which can excite nobody's
envy, who will have nothing to leave except the state dresses of an old
maid who sometimes went to court, and a dozen or two well-bound books
with gilt edges? And then you, Martiniere,--you may describe the
stranger's appearance as frightful as you like, yet I cannot believe
that his intentions were evil. So then----"

La Martiniere recoiled some paces, and Baptiste, uttering a stifled
"Oh!" almost sank upon his knees as Mademoiselle proceeded to press
upon a projecting steel knob; then the lid flew back with a noisy jerk.

But how astonished was she to see a pair of gold bracelets, richly set
with jewels, and a necklace to match. She took them out of the case;
and whilst she was praising the exquisite workmanship of the necklace,
Martiniere was eyeing the valuable bracelets, and crying time after
time, that the vain Lady Montespan herself had no such ornaments as
these. "But what is it for? what does it all mean?" said De Scuderi.
But at this same moment she observed a small slip of paper folded
together, lying at the bottom of the casket. She hoped, and rightly, to
find in it an explanation of the mystery. She had hardly finished
reading the contents of the scrip when it fell from her trembling
hands. She sent an appealing glance towards Heaven, and then fell back
almost fainting into her chair. Terrified, Martiniere sprang to her
assistance, and so also did Baptiste. "Oh! what an insult!" she
exclaimed, her voice half-choked with tears, "Oh! what a burning shame!
Must I then endure this in my old age? Have I then gone and acted with
wrong and foolish levity like some young giddy thing? O God, are words
let fall half in jest capable of being stamped with such an atrocious
interpretation? And am I, who have been faithful to virtue, and of
blameless piety from my earliest childhood until now,--am I to be
accused of the crime of making such a diabolical compact?"

Mademoiselle held her handkerchief to her eyes and wept and sobbed
bitterly, so that Martiniere and Baptiste were both of them confused
and rendered helpless by embarrassed constraint, not knowing what to do
to help their mistress in her great trouble.

Martiniere picked up the ominous strip of p