"
he exclaimed. "She is a bad and ungrateful woman! She has broken up a
family. If there were laws here, I would have her impaled. Yes, I
would." As for De Griers, the General would not have his name
mentioned. "He has ruined me," he would say. "He has robbed me, and cut
my throat. For two years he was a perfect nightmare to me. For months
at a time he never left me in my dreams. Do not speak of him again."

It was now clear to me that Blanche and he were on the point of coming
to terms; yet, true to my usual custom, I said nothing. At length,
Blanche took the initiative in explaining matters. She did so a week
before we parted.

"Il a du chance," she prattled, "for the Grandmother is now REALLY ill,
and therefore, bound to die. Mr. Astley has just sent a telegram to say
so, and you will agree with me that the General is likely to be her
heir. Even if he should not be so, he will not come amiss, since, in
the first place, he has his pension, and, in the second place, he will
be content to live in a back room; whereas I shall be Madame General,
and get into a good circle of society" (she was always thinking of
this) "and become a Russian chatelaine. Yes, I shall have a mansion of
my own, and peasants, and a million of money at my back."

"But, suppose he should prove jealous? He might demand all sorts of
things, you know. Do you follow me?"

"Oh, dear no! How ridiculous that would be of him! Besides, I have
taken measures to prevent it. You need not be alarmed. That is to say,
I have induced him to sign notes of hand in Albert's name.
Consequently, at any time I could get him punished. Isn't he
ridiculous?"

"Very well, then. Marry him."

And, in truth, she did so--though the marriage was a family one only,
and involved no pomp or ceremony. In fact, she invited to the nuptials
none but Albert and a few other friends. Hortense, Cleopatre, and the
rest she kept firmly at a distance. As for the bridegroom, he took a
great interest in his new position. Blanche herself tied his tie, and
Blanche herself pomaded him--with the result that, in his frockcoat and
white waistcoat, he looked quite comme il faut.

"Il est, pourtant, TRES comme il faut," Blanche remarked when she
issued from his room, as though the idea that he was "TRES comme il
faut" had impressed even her. For myself, I had so little knowledge of
the minor details of the affair, and took part in it so much as a
supine spectator, that I have forgotten most o