Bertha, her husband, the prince, and Paula, had been already three days at the château. Iris had been included, of course, in De Brévannes's invitation,—an invitation which each of our personages had too powerful motives for accepting, to pause for a moment at the idea of the singularity of such a journey at this season.
Paula had continually avoided every chance of being alone with De Brévannes, who, by the advice of Iris, had imitated Madame de Hansfeld, in order that he might not give any appearance of premeditation to the vengeance upon which he was so coolly calculating.
Bertha was, however, agitated by sinister presentiments. During the whole of the journey from Paris, De Brévannes had displayed either a forced gaiety or such obsequious attention that Bertha's suspicions were vaguely aroused.
One moment she had resolved on entreating her husband to leave her in Paris, but after the formal engagement she had made with the Prince and Princess de Hansfeld, she gave up that idea.
On reaching Brévannes she was occupied in shewing every attention to her guests. It was strange, but she never for a moment suspected that her husband might be enamoured of Madame de Hansfeld; had this occurred to her, she might have been reassured. Although the way in which this country visit had been arranged was natural enough, yet a secret instinct told Bertha that the excursion had another object beside wild-fowl shooting.
The only person completely happy and free from fear or mental uneasiness was Arnold. Unexpected chance had so well served his love at a moment when he was despairing, that he gave way entirely and unreservedly to the happiness of passing a few days with Bertha in domestic intimacy.
Iris watched every thing and espied every motion of Arnold and Madame de Brévannes. Unfortunately for the gipsy girl, these two, in spite of the constant efforts of M. de Brévannes to bring them to a tête-à-tête, had constantly avoided it.
There remained for Iris a last and infallible means of compelling Bertha and M. de Hansfeld to a secret interview, which must compromise them as regards appearances. When night fell, she would go and tell Bertha that her father, dreadfully alarmed at her sudden departure, had followed her, and that he might not run the risk of meeting De Brévannes, begged her to await him in the châlet, or pavilion in which, in the summer time, Madame de Brévannes usually spent her day. This small building, situated in the midst of a clump of trees, was approached by an iron-gate in the park. Nothing could be more probable than that Pierre Raimond should do such a thing: Bertha would go and await him in the summerhouse, where, instead of the old engraver, Arnold would arrive: then, warned by Iris, De Brévannes would go to the spot, and the sequel might be guessed.
The third day of her arrival at Brévannes, the Bohemian girl, tired of spying in vain, looked for Bertha, in order to make her the victim of the machination she was plotting, when she saw her coming from the side of the pavilion in question, and behind her, at a short distance, M. de Hansfeld.
Iris glided into a clump of holly and thick box-wood bushes, which shaded the park in this spot, and in which was a winding path which went from the chalet to the iron gate of the park.