Miss Sarah led Daniel to a small boudoir adjoining her own room. Nothing could be fresher and more coquettish than this little room, which looked almost like a greenhouse, so completely was it filled with rare and fragrant¹ flowers, while the door and window-frames were overgrown with luxuriant creepers. In the windows stood large vases filled with flowers; and the light bamboo chairs were covered with the same bright silk with which the walls were hung. If the great reception-room reflected the character of Mrs. Brian, this charming boudoir represented Miss Brandon’s own exquisite² taste.  
She sat down on a small sofa and began, after a short pause,—
 
“My aunt was right; it would have been more proper for me to convey to you through M. Elgin what I want to say. But I have the independence of all the girls of my country; and, when my interests are at stake, I trust no one but myself.”
 
She was bewitching in her ingenuousness³ as she uttered these words with the air of a little child who looks cunning, and determined⁴ to undertake something that appears quite formidable.
 
“I am told that my dear count has been to see you this afternoon,” she continued, “and you have heard that in less than a month I shall be the Countess Ville-Handry?”
 
Daniel was surprised. In less than a month! What could be done in so little time?
 
“Now, sir,” continued Miss Brandon, “I wish to hear from your own lips whether you see—any—objections to this match.”
 
She spoke⁵ so frankly⁶, that it was evident she was utterly⁷ unconscious of that article in the code of social laws which prescribes that a French girl must never mention the word “marriage” without blushing to the roots of her hair. Daniel, on the contrary, was terribly embarrassed.
 
“I confess,” he replied with much hesitation⁸, “that I do not understand, that I cannot possibly explain to myself, why you do me the honor”—
 
“To consult you? Pardon me; I think you understand me perfectly⁹ well. Have they not promised you Miss Ville-Handry’s hand?”
 
“The count has permitted me to hope”—
 
“He has pledged his word, sir, under certain conditions. My dear count has told me every thing. I speak, therefore, to Count Ville-Handry’s son-in-law, and I repeat, Do you see any objections to this match?”
 
The question was too precisely¹⁰ put to allow of any prevarication¹¹. And still Daniel was bent¹² upon gaining time, and avoiding any positive answer. For the first time in his life he said a falsehood; and, turning crimson¹³ all over, he stammered¹⁴ out,—
 
“I see no objection.”
 
“Really?”
 
“Really.”
 
She shook her head, and then said very slowly,—
 
“If that is so, you will not refuse me a great favor. Carried away by her grief at seeing her father marry again, Miss Ville-Handry hates me. Will you promise me to use your influence in trying to persuade her to change her disposition¹⁶ towards me?”
 
Never had honest Daniel Champcey been tried so hard. He answered diplomatically,—
 
“I am afraid you overestimate¹⁷ my influence.”
 
She looked at him suddenly with such a sharp and penetrating¹⁸ glance that he felt almost startled, and then said,—
 
“I do not ask of you to succeed, only promise me upon your honor that you will do your best, and I shall be very much obliged to you. Will you give me that promise?”
 
Could he do so? The situation was so exceptional, Daniel had at all cost to lull¹⁹ the enemy into security for a time, and for a moment he was inclined to pledge his honor. Nay²⁰, more than that, he made an effort to do it. But his lips refused to utter a false oath.
 
“You see,” resumed Miss Brandon very coldly, “you see you were deceiving me.”
 
And, turning away from him, she hid her face in her hands, apparently²¹ overcome by grief, and repeated in a tone of deep sorrow,—
 
“What a disgrace! Great God! What a humiliation²²!”
 
But suddenly she started up again, her face bright with a glow of hope, and cried out,—
 
“Well, be it so. I like it all the better so. A mean man would not have hesitated at an oath, however determined he might have been not to keep it. Whilst you—I can trust you; you are a man of honor, and all is not lost yet. Whence comes your aversion? Is it a question of money, the count’s fortune?”
 
“Miss Brandon!”
 
“No, it is not that, I see. I was quite sure of it. What, then, can it be? Tell me, sir, I beseech²³ you! tell me something.”
 
What could he tell her? Daniel remained silent.
 
“Very well,” said Sarah, clinching²⁴ her teeth convulsively. “I understand.”
 
She made a supreme²⁵ effort not to break out in sobs²⁷; and big tears, resembling diamonds of matchless beauty, rolled slowly down from between her long, trembling eyelashes.
 
“Yes,” she said, “I understand. The atrocious calumnies²⁸ which my enemies have invented have reached you; and you have believed them. They have, no doubt, told you that I am an adventuress, come from nowhere; that my father, the brave defender²⁹ of the union, exists only in the painting in my parlor³⁰; that no one knows where my income comes from; that Thorn, that noble soul, and Mrs. Brian, a saint upon earth, are vile³¹ accomplices³³ of mine. Confess, you have been told all that, and you have believed it.”
 
Grand in her wrath³⁴, her cheeks burning, her lips trembling, she rose, and added in a tone of bitter sarcasm,—
 
“Ah! When people are called upon to admire a noble deed, they refuse to believe, they insist upon inquiring before they admire, they examine carefully. But, if they are told something bad, they dispense³⁵ with that ceremony; however monstrous³⁶ the thing may appear, however improbable it may sound, they believe it instantly. They would not touch a child; but they do not hesitate to repeat a slander³⁷ which dishonors a woman, and kills her as surely as a dagger³⁸. If I were a man, and had been told that Miss Brandon was an adventuress, I would have been bent upon ascertaining³⁹ the matter. America is not so far off. I should have soon found the ten thousand men who had served under Gen. Brandon, and they would have told me what sort of a man their chief had been. I should have examined the oil-regions of Pennsylvania; and I would have learned there that the petroleum-wells belonging to M. Elgin, Mrs. Brian, and Miss Brandon produce more than many a principality.”
 
Daniel was amazed at the candor⁴¹ and the boldness with which this young girl approached the terrible subject. To enable her to speak with such energy and in such a tone, she must either be possessed⁴² of unsurpassed impudence⁴³, or—he had to confess it—be innocent.
 
Overcome by the effort she had made, she had sunk back upon the sofa, and continued in a lower tone of voice, as if speaking to herself,—
 
“But have I a right to complain? I reap as I have sown. Alas⁴⁴! Thorn has told me so often enough, and I would not believe him. I was not twenty years old when I came to Paris, after my poor father’s death. I had been brought up in America, where young girls know no other law but that of their own consciences. They tell us at home, all the time, that it is our first duty to be truthful⁴⁵. In France, young girls are taught that hypocrisy⁴⁶ is their first duty. We are taught not to blush, except when we have done wrong; they are taught all the appearances of false prudishness. In France, they work hard to save appearances; with us, we aim at reality. In Philadelphia, I did every thing I chose to do, provided I did not think it was wrong. I thought I could do the same here. Poor me! I did not count upon the wickedness of the world. I went out alone, on horseback, in the morning. I went alone to church, to pray to God. If I wanted any thing for my toilet, I sent for the carriage, and drove out, alone, to buy it. When a man spoke to me, I did not feel bound to cast down my eyes; and, if he was amusing and witty⁴⁷, I laughed. If a new fashion pleased me, I adopted it. I committed all these crimes. I was young, rich, popular. These were as many more crimes. And after I had been here a year, they said that Malgat, that wretch⁴⁸”—
 
She jumped up as she said this, ran up to Daniel, and, seizing him by the hands, she said,—
 
“Malgat! Have they talked to you about Malgat?”
 
And, as he hesitated to answer, she added:—
 
“Ah, answer me! Don’t you see that your hesitation is an insult?”
 
“Well—yes.”
 
As if in utter despair, she raised her hands to heaven, calling God, as it were, to witness, and asking for inspiration from on high. Then she added suddenly,—
 
“But I have proofs, irrefutable proofs of Malgat’s rascality⁴⁹.”
 
And, without waiting for another word, she hurried into the adjoining room. Daniel, moved to the bottom of his heart, remained standing⁵⁰ where he was, immovable, like a statue.
 
He was utterly confounded and overcome by the charm of that marvellous voice, which passed through the whole gamut⁵¹ of passion with such a sonorous⁵² ring, and yet with such sweet languor⁵³, that it seemed by turns to sob²⁶ and to threaten, to sigh with sadness and to thunder with wrath.
 
“What a woman!” he said to himself, repeating thus unconsciously the words uttered by M. de Brevan.
 
“What a woman! And how well she defends herself.”
 
But Miss Brandon was already back again, carrying in her arms a small box of costly⁵⁴ wood inlaid with jewels. She resumed her seat on the sofa; and in that brief, sharp tone which betrays terrible passions restrained with a great effort, she said,—
 
“Before all, I must thank you, M. Champcey, for your frankness, since it enables me to defend myself. I knew that slander had attacked me; I felt it, so to say, in the air I was breathing; but I had never been able yet to take hold of it. Now, for the first time, I can face it; and I owe it to you that I am able to defy it. Listen, therefore; for I swear to you by all that is most sacred to me, by the memory of my sainted mother, I swear to you solemnly, that you shall hear the truth, and nothing but the truth.”
 
She had opened the box, and was eagerly searching something among the papers inside. She then continued, in feverish⁵⁵ haste,—
 
“M. Malgat was the cashier and confidential⁵⁷ clerk of the Mutual⁵⁸ Discount Society, a large and powerful company. M. Elgin had some business with him, a few weeks after our arrival here, for the purpose of drawing funds which he had in Philadelphia. He found him an exceedingly obliging man, and, to show his appreciation⁵⁹, invited him to dine here. Thus he became acquainted with Mrs. Brian and myself. He was a man of about forty, of medium height, ordinary looking, very polite, but not refined in his manners. The first time I looked at his light yellow eyes, I felt disgusted and frightened. I read in his face an expression of base vice⁶⁰. The impression was so strong, that I could not help telling M. Elgin how sure I was this man would turn out a bad man, and that he ought not to trust him in money-matters.”
 
Daniel listened with breathless attention. This description of Malgat impressed his portrait so deeply on his mind, that he thought he saw him before his eyes, and would certainly recognize him if he should ever meet him.
 
“M. Elgin,” continued Miss Brandon, “only laughed at my presentiments⁶¹; and even Mrs. Brian, I remember distinctly, scolded me, saying it was very wrong to judge a man by his appearance, and that there were very honest men in the world who had yellow eyes. I must acknowledge, moreover, that M. Malgat behaved perfectly well whenever he was here. As M. Elgin did not know Paris, and had money to invest, he advised him what to do. When we had drafts upon the Mutual Discount Society, he always saved M. Elgin the trouble, and brought the money himself. After a while, when M. Elgin took it into his head to try some small speculations⁶² on ‘change, M. Malgat offered him his assistance, although they never had any luck, in fact.”
 
By this time Miss Brandon had found the papers she was looking for. She handed them to Daniel, saying,—
 
“And, if you do not believe what I say, look at this.”
 
There were a dozen square bits of paper, on which Malgat had reported the result of his operations on ‘change, which he carried on on account of, and with the money of, M. Elgin. All ended with these words:—
 
“We have lost considerably⁶³; but we may be more fortunate next time. There is a capital chance on such and such funds; send me all the money you can spare.”
 
The words were always the same; the name of the funds alone varied⁶⁴ in each.
 
“That is strange,” said Daniel.
 
Miss Sarah shook her head.
 
“Strange? Yes, indeed!” she replied. “But it does not help me in any way. This letter, however, will tell you more. Read it, sir, and read it aloud.”
 
Daniel took the letter, and read,—
 
“‘Paris, Dec. 5, 1865.
 
“‘M. Thomas Elgin. Dear Sir,—It is to you alone, the most honorable among men, that I can make the terrible confession⁶⁵ that I have committed a crime.
 
“‘I am wretched. Employed by you in your speculations, I have given way to temptation, and have speculated on my own account. One loss brought about another, I lost my head; I hoped to recover my money; and now, at this hour, I owe more than ten thousand dollars, which I have taken from the safe of the society.
 
“‘Will you have pity on me? Will you be so generous as to lend me that sum? I may not be able to return it in less than six or seven years; but I will repay you, I swear it, with interest.
 
“‘I await your answer, like a criminal, who waits for the verdict. It is a matter of life and death with me; and as you decide, so I may be saved, or disgraced forever. A. Malgat.’”
 
On the margin⁶⁶, methodical M. Elgin had written in his angular handwriting,—
 
“Answered immediately. Sent to M. M. ten thousand dollars, to be drawn⁶⁷ from funds deposited with the Mutual Discount Society. No interest to be paid.”
 
“And that,” stammered Daniel, “that is the man”—
 
“Whom they charge me with having turned aside from the paths of honesty; yes, sir! Now you learn to know him. But wait. You see, he was saved. It was not long before he appeared here, his false face bathed in tears. I can find no words to convey to you the exaggerated expressions of his gratitude⁶⁸. He refused to shake hands with M. Elgin, he said, because he was no longer worthy⁶⁹ of such honor. He spoke of nothing but of his devotion unto death. It is true M. Elgin carried his generosity⁷⁰ to an extreme. He, a model of honesty, who would have starved to death rather than touch the gold intrusted to his care,—he consoled Malgat, finding all kinds of apology for him, telling him, that, after all, he was not so very much to blame, that there were temptations too strong to be resisted, and repeating even those paradoxical principles which have been specially⁷¹ invented as an apology for thieves. Malgat had still some money of his own; but M. Elgin did not ask him for it, for fear of hurting his feelings. He continued to invite him, and urged him to come and dine with us as heretofore.”
 
She stopped, laughing in a nervous manner, which was painful to hear, and then continued, in a hoarse⁷² voice,—
 
“Do you know, M. Champcey, how Malgat repaid all this kindness? Read this note; it will restore me in your esteem⁷³, I trust.”
 
It was another letter written by Malgat to M. Elgin, and ran thus,—
 
“M. Elgin,—I have deceived you. It was not ten thousand dollars I had taken, but sixty thousand five hundred dollars.
 
“Thanks to false entries, I have been able to conceal⁷⁴ my defalcations until now; but I can do so no longer. The board of directors have begun to suspect me; and the president has just told me that tomorrow the books will be examined. I am lost.
 
“I ought to kill myself, I know; but I have not the courage to do so. I venture to ask you to furnish me the means of escaping from this country. I beseech you on my knees, in the name of all that is dear to you, for mercy’s sake; for I am penniless, and cannot even pay the fare on the railway as far as the frontier. Nor can I return to my house; for I am watched.
 
“Once more, M. Elgin, have pity on a poor man, and leave the answer with the concierge⁷⁶. I will come by about nine o’clock. A. Malgat.”
 
Not on the margin, as before, but across the lines, M. Elgin had written these laconic⁷⁷ words:—
 
“Answered immediately. No! The scamp!”
 
Daniel could not have uttered a word to save his life; he was too fearfully excited. Miss Brandon continued,—
 
“We were dining alone that day; and M. Elgin was so indignant, that he forgot his usual reserve, and told us everything. Ah! I felt only pity for the poor man; and I besought⁷⁸ him to give the wretch the means to escape. But he was inflexible⁷⁹. Seeing, however, how excited I was, he tried to reassure⁸⁰ me by telling me that Malgat would certainly not come, that he would not dare to expect an answer to such a letter.”
 
She pressed both her hands on her heart, as if to still its beating; and then continued, in a weak voice,—
 
“Nevertheless, he came, and, seeing his hopes disappointed, he insisted upon speaking to us. The servants let him go up, and he entered. Ah! if I lived a thousand years, I should never forget that fearful scene. Feeling that all was lost, this thief, this defaulter, had become enraged⁸¹; he demanded money. At first he asked for it on his knees in humble⁸² words; but, when he found that this did not answer, he suddenly rose in a perfect fury, his mouth foaming⁸³, his eyes bloodshot, and overwhelmed us with the coarsest insults. At last M. Elgin’s patience gave out, and he rang for the servants. They had to employ force to drag him out; and, as they pushed him down stairs, he threatened us with his fist, and swore that he would be avenged⁸⁴.”
 
Miss Brandon shuddered⁸⁵ till she appeared to be all in a quiver; and, for a moment, Daniel thought she was going to be ill. But she made an effort to overcome her weakness; and............