"Dear M. Galland," she said. "My father!----"
"Was sorely troubled by what you wrote to him."
"I feared it," she replied dejectedly. "But there were reasons."
"Reasons!" cried the old gentleman with warmth. "I can read the reasons in your saddened face. I am sorry to be unable to congratulate madame upon her blooming looks. She was wrong not to have spoken sooner."
"I could not," pleaded Gabrielle. "It takes long for a loyal love to smoulder out of life. I could have borne all, if she there had not threatened to instil poison into a child's mind. Just think of it! My God! How monstrous!"
"She never did that," Clovis put in hotly. "Never, never! You may see the children yourself, sir, and question them. Such a calumny is atrocious!"
"Thanks! Oh--thanks for that!" murmured the deep tones of mademoiselle, as with theatrical gesture she hastily knelt and kissed his hand. "When I have been chased away, it will be a comfort to remember that I never lost your confidence."
"In this affair, I play a pretty part!" exclaimed the marquis, bitterly.
"Between us," Gabrielle said mournfully, gazing at her husband's averted back as he crouched in his fauteuil, "all is over. We are hopelessly divided. And yet, take comfort. In years to come, maybe, when Victor and Camille are man and woman, we may be joined again by them. Mademoiselle, I wish no harm to you--only that after this day we may never come face to face."
Unaccustomed tears stood on the seamed cheeks of M. Galland. It was well that fiery old de Brèze had not arrived in person. The visage of the white chatelaine told such a tale that bloodshed might have ensued which all would have deplored. The interview was painful, and it behoved him to cut it short.