have before shown them, and which was the pride
of its owner, Baron Danglars. In this room, at about ten o'clock in the
morning, the banker himself had been walking to and fro for some
minutes thoughtfully and in evident uneasiness, watching both doors, and
listening to every sound. When his patience was exhausted, he called his
valet. "Etienne," said he, "see why Mademoiselle Eugenie has asked me to
meet her in the drawing-room, and why she makes me wait so long."

Having given this vent to his ill-humor, the baron became more calm;
Mademoiselle Danglars had that morning requested an interview with
her father, and had fixed on the gilded drawing-room as the spot. The
singularity of this step, and above all its formality, had not a
little surprised the banker, who had immediately obeyed his daughter
by repairing first to the drawing-room. Etienne soon returned from his
errand. "Mademoiselle's lady's maid says, sir, that mademoiselle is
finishing her toilette, and will be here shortly."

Danglars nodded, to signify that he was satisfied. To the world and to
his servants Danglars assumed the character of the good-natured man and
the indulgent father. This was one of his parts in the popular comedy he
was performing,--a make-up he had adopted and which suited him about as
well as the masks worn on the classic stage by paternal actors, who seen
from one side, were the image of geniality, and from the other showed
lips drawn down in chronic ill-temper. Let us hasten to say that in
private the genial side descended to the level of the other, so that
generally the indulgent man disappeared to give place to the brutal
husband and domineering father. "Why the devil does that foolish girl,
who pretends to wish to speak to me, not come into my study? and why on
earth does she want to speak to me at all?"

He was turning this thought over in his brain for the twentieth time,
when the door opened and Eugenie appeared, attired in a figured black
satin dress, her hair dressed and gloves on, as if she were going to the
Italian Opera. "Well, Eugenie, what is it you want with me? and why in
this solemn drawing-room when the study is so comfortable?"

"I quite understand why you ask, sir," said Eugenie, making a sign that
her father might be seated, "and in fact your two questions suggest
fully the theme of our conversation. I will answer them both, and
contrary to the usual method, the last first, because it is the least
difficult. I