er fears, evidently allowed her
affection for you to deter her from accusing you of such effrontery,
but it is now clear that there has been a secret understanding between
you all to deceive her, and the falsification of my letter to you is a
fitting climax to such behaviour."

"Falsification, sir!" retorted Isidore indignantly. "You are the only
man living whom I would permit to use that word with impunity."

"I repeat the word," replied the marquis, sternly. "I cannot doubt,
even if any other part of my letter could have been misunderstood, that
I must have mentioned your cousin Clotilde's name in connection with
this affair. To pretend the contrary is as impudent as it is absurd."

"It is a fortunate thing that I can at least prove to you that your
letter not only did not mention my cousin's name, but that it left
ample room for misconception," answered Isidore, feeling in his pocket
for the all-important missive; "though I may add that to you alone,
sir, would I condescend to attempt to clear myself of such an
imputation."

The marquis started slightly, and regarded him with a look in which
expectation seemed mingled with distrust. In vain, however, did
Isidore search one pocket after another; the letter was not there.

"This is most annoying," said he at last; "I must have left it at
Valricour."

"Of course," rejoined the marquis, sarcastically, "very unfortunate,
indeed! Perhaps I can assist you in your search for the missing
document, or at least as much of it as you incautiously and unwittingly
left undestroyed." So saying he drew forth from a drawer in his
writing-table and held out towards his son a small piece of paper. It
was all burnt at the edges, and from the signature still just legible
upon it, Isidore at once recognised it as a fragment of his father's
letter to him. He might well be amazed and dumbfounded. A minute ago
he had supposed the letter safe in his pocket, and relied on it for his
justification; now a shred of it, charred and defaced, was produced
against him, in mute but irrefragable proof that he had himself
destroyed it to cover his own falsehood and deceit.

"I suppose, sir," said the marquis, "as you pretend to be so much
astonished, that I must tell you that this little piece of paper was
found in your chamber at the Chateau de Valricour. No, sir," he
continued, more vehemently as Isidore attempted to speak, "I will not
hear another word from lips already so basely, so