"How is it with you, Monsieur Rochebrune? do you begin to understand?"
"In truth, madame, I fear that I do; but I dare not say as yet."
"Well, monsieur, the young attaché of the Dutch legation had been lured on by Monsieur Sordeville to talk foolishly about certain plans of his government.—You did the same, baron, unwittingly perhaps; that man was so clever at making people talk about what he wanted to find out! As for the young clerk, he had tattled about certain peculiarities of his superiors, and Monsieur Sordeville took care that they were informed. In a word, Monsieur Sordeville was connected with the secret police. That is what I dared not believe at first, what I was determined to have the proof of, if it were true. I never hesitate when the honor of a friend, the safety and the future of people I love, are at stake. I had once rendered a slight service to a person who is employed in the police bureau to-day, but in a position which he can afford to avow; that person had begged me to give him an opportunity to show his gratitude, and I said to him: 'The opportunity has come; find out for me what Monsieur Sordeville's position is.' I speedily received a reply containing these words only: 'Connected with the secret police.'"
"Sapremann!" cried the baron; "I am sorry tat I haf talk mit him! Vat! tat so bolite monsir—he vas ein shpy! Ach! I am shtubefied!"
I shared the baron's stupefaction; Frédérique's revelation appalled me; and yet, I knew that in society the most disgusting vices lie hidden beneath the most brilliant exteriors.
"And—his wife," I said at last; "does she know now what her husband does?"
"She knows all, and I was spared the melancholy duty of telling her. There were some scandalous scenes at Monsieur Sordeville's not long ago. It seems that a certain man—one of the victims of that wretch's denunciations—had succeeded, by unwearying perseverance, in learning the source of the report that ruined him. He also learned the truth with respect to Monsieur Sordeville. Then what did he do? Accompanied by several friends, to whom he had told the facts, he went to the house on a certain evening at home—for they continued to receive, notwithstanding what was told you to the contrary."
This was said to me, and proved that Frédérique knew all.
"He went to Monsieur Sordeville's," she continued, "and there, in the middle of the salon, before all the guests, he called him a spy and struck him! Imagine the uproar, the amazement, the confusion, of all those people, who were thoroughly ashamed to be there; for Monsieur Sordeville turned pale, and did not say a word or return the blow. Poor Armantine fainted, and they carried her to her room. Thereupon the guests all took their hats and fled, assuring the master of the house that they didn't believe a word of what had been said, but fully determined never to go there again. On the next day, Armantine took refuge with me. I dictated the following plainly worded letter, which she sent to her husband:
"'You have deceived me shamefully, monsieur. I leave you, and I lay aside your name. You will never hear of me again, and I trust that I may never hear of you.'