Alas! no; they were people who never forgot.
The Champdoce affair had been satisfactorily arranged, and every precaution had been taken to prevent the detection of Paul as an impostor, and engaged as he had been, Mascarin had no time to turn his attention to the marriage of Sabine and De Croisenois. The famous Limited Company, with the Marquis as chairman, had, too, to be started, the shares of which were to be taken up by the unhappy victims of the blackmailers; but first some decided steps must be taken with the Mussidans, and Tantaine was dispatched on this errand.
This amiable individual, though he was going into such very excellent society, did not consider it necessary to make any improvement in his attire. This was the reason why the footman, upon seeing such a shabby visitor and hearing him ask for the Count or Countess, did not hesitate to reply, with a sneer, that his master and mistress had been out for some months, and were not likely to return for a week or two. This fact did not disconcert the wily man, for drawing one of Mascarin’s cards from his pocket, he begged the kind gentleman to take it upstairs, when he was sure that he would at once be sent for.
De Mussidan, when he read the name on the card, turned ghastly pale.
“Show him into the library,” said he curtly.
Florestan left the room, and the Count mutely handed the card to his wife, but she had no need to read it.
“I can tell what it is,” gasped she.
“The day for settling accounts has come,” said the Count, “and this name is the fatal sign.”
The Countess flung herself upon her knees, and taking the hand that hung placidly by his side, pressed her lips tenderly to it.
“Forgive me, Octave!” she muttered. “Will you not forgive me? I am a miserable wretch, and why did not Heaven punish me for the sins that I have committed, and not make others expiate my offences?”