ance, a handsome income! Grant to me a great
pleasure--of which I am not worthy," she went on tearfully, "but you
will have the more merit, then! Let me lend you any sum of which you
have need."

"I thank you, but I have already refused a thousand times the amount
from an unsullied hand!" returned Clemenceau, emphatically.

"That Jewess'!" she exclaimed, with a great change in her bearing.

"Hush! strangers present!" and in uttering this talismanic cue between
married people, he pointed to the shadow on the curtains.

Rebecca had concluded her pilotage of M. Cantagnac and it was he whom
Clemenceau soon after presented to his wife.

"Let me add, M. Cantagnac, that you must be my guest as long as you stay
at Montmorency, for the hotels are conducted solely for the
excursionists who come out of Paris and their accommodations would not
please you. You are expected to sit down to dinner with us at one
o'clock, country fashion and I will order a bedroom ready also."

"Gracious heavens! you are really too good!" exclaimed Cantagnac,
lifting his hands almost devoutly.

CHAPTER XVII.

DEMON AND ARCH-DEMON.

After one sharp slighting look at the visitor, Madame Clemenceau had
withdrawn her senses within herself, so to say, to come to a conclusion
on the singular conduct of her husband. His cold scorn daunted her, and
filled her with dread. Had not the Jewess been on the spot, whom she
believed to be a rival once more, however high was her character and
Hedwig's eulogy, she would have prudently fled again without fighting.
She had the less reason to stay, as the house was to be sold, in a
manner of speaking, from under her feet.

Yet the Marseillais was worth more than a passing glance. When alone
with the lady, whom he regarded steadfastly, a radical change took place
in his carriage, and he who had been so easy and oily became stiff,
stern and rigid. It was the attitude no longer of a secret agent,
wearing the mien and mask of his profession, but of a military spy, who
stands before a subordinate when disguise is superfluous.

"Truly, she is more bewitching than when I first knew her," he muttered
between his close teeth, as if he admired with awe and suppressed
breath. "What a pretty monster she is!"

Feeling that his view was weighing upon her, Madame Clemenceau suddenly
looked up. It seemed to her that something in the altered and insolent
bearing was not unknown to her but the recollection was hazy, and