In order to understand the following scene, we must explain that a few lines of the Black Book, written by Iris in Paula's name, had that very morning been shewn to De Brévannes, by which he learned that the Prince de Hansfeld was the object of Bertha's love, and that she had very often met him under an assumed name at Pierre Raimond's.
A few expressive words indicated the terrible consequences which De Brévannes proposed to elicit from this love; whose punishment, if it became guilty and was detected, would assure the liberty of himself and Paula.
After this discovery, De Brévannes redoubled his hypocrisy, in order still further to lull his wife into security, although he resolved to watch narrowly, not doubting in the least her love for the prince.
Bertha's first refusal to go to the Hôtel Lambert, her increasing emotion as she approached the place where she would see Arnold again, were convincing proofs of this love. De Brévannes was besides informed by the porter at Pierre Raimond's of the visits the engraver received; and De Hansfeld had been so accurately described to him that he only awaited the opportunity of seeing the prince to be assured of his identity with the constant visitor of Pierre Raimond.
Paula, seated by the fireside, had beside her a small table, on which was laid the fatal pin; which, handed to Iris, would prevent the disclosure to De Brévannes of the trickery of which he was the dupe, and leave him in the delusion that in getting rid of his wife and the prince he might marry Paula.
The Bohemian girl, occupied at some tapestry-work, was partially concealed by the window-curtains near which she was seated, but still she did not take her eyes off her mistress.
And it must be added that her look sometimes exercised a kind of fascination over Paula.
M. de Hansfeld, standing near the fireplace, endeavoured, but in vain, to conceal his emotion.
The door opened, and a valet-de-chambre announced,—"M. and Madame de Brévannes."
Our readers may, perchance, find a contrast sufficiently dramatic between the futile, slight, and "bald, disjointed chat" of the four actors in this scene, and the anxieties, the various and deep passions which agitated them.