?" said du Tillet, suddenly turning
upon his wife with a look which made her color to the roots of her hair.

"I don't know what your question means," she said.

"I will fathom this mystery," he cried, springing furiously up. "You
have upset my most cherished plans."

"You are upsetting your breakfast," said Gigonnet, arresting
the table-clock, which was dragged by the skirt of du Tillet's
dressing-gown.

Madame du Tillet rose to leave the room, for her husband's words alarmed
her. She rang the bell, and a footman entered.

"The carriage," she said. "And call Virginie; I wish to dress."

"Where are you going?" exclaimed du Tillet.

"Well-bred husbands do not question their wives," she answered. "I
believe that you lay claim to be a gentleman."

"I don't recognize you ever since you have seen more of your impertinent
sister."

"You ordered me to be impertinent, and I am practising on you," she
replied.

"Your servant, madame," said Gigonnet, taking leave, not anxious to
witness this family scene.

Du Tillet looked fixedly at his wife, who returned the look without
lowering her eyes.

"What does all this mean?" he said.

"It means that I am no longer a little girl whom you can frighten," she
replied. "I am, and shall be, all my life, a good and loyal wife to you;
you may be my master if you choose, my tyrant, never!"

Du Tillet left the room. After this effort Marie-Eugenie broke down.

"If it were not for my sister's danger," she said to herself, "I should
never have dared to brave him thus; but, as the proverb says, 'There's
some good in every evil.'"

CHAPTER IX. THE HUSBAND'S TRIUMPH

During the preceding night Madame du Tillet had gone over in her mind
her sister's revelations. Sure, now, of Nathan's safety, she was
no longer influenced by the thought of an imminent danger in that
direction. But she remembered the vehement energy with which the
countess had declared that she would fly with Nathan if that would save
him. She saw that the man might determine her sister in some paroxysm
of gratitude and love to take a step which was nothing short of madness.
There were recent examples in the highest society of just such flights
which paid for doubtful pleasures by lasting remorse and the disrepute
of a false position. Du Tillet's speech brought her fears to a point;
she dreaded lest all should be discovered; she knew her sister's
signature was in Nucingen's hands, and she resolved to entrea