"Ah, not so well as he was under Mademoiselle Madeleine's care. I'll see after the silver jug, and keep a sharp look-out for the silver in future."
Robert and Mrs. Lawkins stood with their backs to the door of Madame de Gramont's apartment, which opened into the drawing-room. What was their consternation on finding the countess herself standing in the door-way! Her countenance was perfectly appalling in its white, distorted wrath. She strode toward the two abashed domestics, and cried out, in a voice which broke the count's slumbers, and caused him to sit up in his chair with terror-dilated eyes,—
"Woman! What is the meaning of this? Of whom are you talking? Whose silver is that?" (pointing savagely to the salver.) "And who are you?"
Mrs. Lawkins was dumb.
"Am I to be answered?" demanded the countess, imperiously.
Then she turned to Robert. "Whose silver is that? Whose silver did you say was missing?"
"Mademoiselle de Gramont's," Robert faltered out.
"And Mademoiselle de Gramont has the unparalleled audacity to send her silver here for my use? Do you mean to tell me that this salver and what it contains are from her?"
Robert could not answer.
"Great heaven! that I should endure this! That Madeleine de Gramont should have the insolence to force her bounty by stealth upon me, and that I should not have suspected her at once! Remove that salver out of my sight, and if you ever dare"—