"I mean," he replied brutally, "that I shall send Herr von Stielow one of Count Rivero's letters to you, and your answer. Though husbands are sometimes indifferent to these little eccentricities, lovers are apt to be more punctilious."
She pressed the rosy nails into her tender hands, and looked thoughtfully before her for a moment.
"Where are the letters of which you speak?" she asked coldly.
"Quite safe," he replied laconically.
"I do not believe you; how came you by a letter from me to the Count?"
"You were in the act of answering him. His letter and your reply lay on the table, when you had hastily to receive your dear Stielow, and you threw your shawl over them. You forgot them, and when I paid my dear wife a visit, I took them that they might not fall into improper hands." He said this with a scornful laugh.
"In fact, you stole them?" she said contemptuously.
"We are discussing the seventh commandment, not the eighth," he said rudely.
"I must pay for my carelessness," she muttered to herself. Then raising her eyes, with icy coldness she said:--
"You shall have the twelve hundred gulden to-morrow morning in exchange for the stolen letters."