e would not acknowledge to any one. Being a
man who knew that the former of these symptoms was one of the inherent
penalties of womanhood, he did not then press his inquiries, but waited
for a more appropriate opportunity when he should again interrogate
her, or receive an avowal proprio motu. At the door of her apartment the
baroness met Mademoiselle Cornelie, her confidential maid. "What is my
daughter doing?" asked Madame Danglars.

"She practiced all the evening, and then went to bed," replied
Mademoiselle Cornelie.

"Yet I think I hear her piano."

"It is Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly, who is playing while Mademoiselle
Danglars is in bed."

"Well," said Madame Danglars, "come and undress me." They entered
the bedroom. Debray stretched himself upon a large couch, and Madame
Danglars passed into her dressing-room with Mademoiselle Cornelie. "My
dear M. Lucien," said Madame Danglars through the door, "you are always
complaining that Eugenie will not address a word to you."

"Madame," said Lucien, playing with a little dog, who, recognizing him
as a friend of the house, expected to be caressed, "I am not the only
one who makes similar complaints, I think I heard Morcerf say that he
could not extract a word from his betrothed."

"True," said Madame Danglars; "yet I think this will all pass off, and
that you will one day see her enter your study."

"My study?"

"At least that of the minister."

"Why so!"

"To ask for an engagement at the Opera. Really, I never saw such an
infatuation for music; it is quite ridiculous for a young lady of
fashion." Debray smiled. "Well," said he, "let her come, with your
consent and that of the baron, and we will try and give her an
engagement, though we are very poor to pay such talent as hers."

"Go, Cornelie," said Madame Danglars, "I do not require you any longer."

Cornelie obeyed, and the next minute Madame Danglars left her room in
a charming loose dress, and came and sat down close to Debray. Then she
began thoughtfully to caress the little spaniel. Lucien looked at her
for a moment in silence. "Come, Hermine," he said, after a short time,
"answer candidly,--something vexes you--is it not so?"

"Nothing," answered the baroness.

And yet, as she could scarcely breathe, she rose and went towards
a looking-glass. "I am frightful to-night," she said. Debray rose,
smiling, and was about to contradict the baroness upon this latter
point, when the door opened suddenly. M