omplaint.

Sarah's only reply was an indignant rising from her seat, and hasty
removal from the vicinage of the annoying Duke de Lucenay.

All this had passed with the rapidity of thought. Sarah had experienced
considerable difficulty in restraining her inclination to indulge in a
hearty fit of laughter at the absurd question put by the Duke de Lucenay
to the commandant; but Madame d'Harville had painfully sympathised with
the feelings of a man so ridiculously interrogated in the presence of
the woman he loved. Then, horror-struck as the probable consequences of
the duke's jest rose to her mind, led away by her dread of the duel
which might arise out of it, and still further instigated by a feeling
of deep pity for one who seemed to her misled imagination as marked out
for every venomed shaft of envy, malice, and revenge, Clemence rose
abruptly from her seat, took the arm of Sarah, overtook M. Charles
Robert, who was boiling over with rage, and whispered to him, as she
passed:

"To-morrow, at one o'clock, I will be there."

Then, regaining the gallery with the countess, she immediately quitted
the ball.

Rodolph, in appearing at this fete, besides fulfilling a duty imposed on
him by his exalted rank and place in society, was further influenced by
the earnest desire to ascertain how far his suspicions, as regarded
Madame d'Harville, were well founded, and if she were, indeed, the
heroine of Madame Pipelet's account. After quitting the winter garden
with the Countess de ----, he had, in vain, traversed the various salons
in the hopes of meeting Madame d'Harville alone. He was returning to the
hothouse when, being momentarily delayed at the top of the stairs, he
was witness to the rapid scene between Madame d'Harville and M. Charles
Robert after the joke played off by the Duke de Lucenay. The significant
glances exchanged between Clemence and the commandant struck Rodolph
powerfully, and impressed him with the firm conviction that this tall
and prepossessing individual was the mysterious lodger of the Rue du
Temple. Wishing for still further confirmation of the idea, he returned
to the gallery. A waltz was about to commence, and in the course of a
few minutes he saw M. Charles Robert standing in the doorway, evidently
revelling in the satisfaction of his own ideas; enjoying, in the first
place, the recollection of his own retort to M. de Lucenay (for M.
Charles Robert, spite of his egregious folly and vanity, was by n