Lady Broughton fell back, and for a moment her motionless limbs and pallid features seemed like fainting; but with a tremendous effort rallying herself, she said, “Go on!”
“He betrayed me,—told every circumstance of my book! And the mare I had backed for more than thirty thousand is dying this instant; so that I am not only ruined, but dishonored!”
She sat with wide staring eyes and half-open lips while he spoke, nor did she seem, in the fearful confusion of her fear, to understand fully all he said.
“Have I not spoken plainly?” said he, angrily. “Don't you comprehend me when I say that to-morrow I shall be branded as a defaulter at the settling? But enough of this. Tell Millar to get a portmanteau ready for me. I 'll start this evening; the interval is short enough for all I have to do.” As he spoke, he hastened to his bedroom, and, providing himself with a case containing his duelling-pistols, he hurried downstairs, ordering the postilion to drive to the Russian Embassy.
The carriage was scarce driven from the door when Lady Broughton, taking a key from her pocket, opened a small door which led from the drawing-room into her dressing-room, from which the count walked forth,—his calm features unruffled and easy as though no emotion had ever stirred them.
“You heard what Broughton said?” whispered she, in an accent of faltering agitation.
“Oui, parbleu, every word of it!” replied he, laughing gently. “The people of the house might almost have heard him.”
“And is it true?” asked she, while a cold sickness crept over her, and her mouth was shaken convulsively.
“I believe so,” said he, calmly.
“Oh, Alexis, do not say so!” cried she, in an agony of grief; “or, least of all, in such a voice as that.”