"What! what do you mean by that, madame?" cried the fair Herminie, restoring her handkerchief to her pocket.
"I mean that young Albert Vermoncey is not dead."
"Not dead! Albert not dead! Oh! that is impossible, madame; it was his adversary in person who came and told me the result of their ill-omened meeting! He did not leave Albert until he was certain that he had ceased to breathe; and, as a token of his victory, he took a cigar from his victim and brought it to me, and I have worn it here, on my heart, ever since. It has never left me for an instant!"
Madame Baldimer began to laugh more loudly than ever, until she could hardly speak.
"Ah! so you carry a cigar in your bosom," she faltered, at last. "I am not surprised at this odor of tobacco, which I could not understand. Ha! ha! ha! this is most amusing! it was a delicious joke!"
Madame Plays began to take offence at the fair American's hilarity over her adventure.
"Really, madame," she muttered angrily, "I did not suppose that you were so hard-hearted! to laugh because a young man lost his life for me—or, at least, at the hands of one of my chevaliers! I cannot see what there is to laugh at in that."
"Mon Dieu! madame, how many times must I tell you that you are mistaken? that somebody has made a fool of you? Monsieur Albert Vermoncey did fight a duel, it is true, at about the time you mention; but he fought with Count Dahlborne, and I think that I can assure you that you had nothing whatever to do with their quarrel. Monsieur Albert was the victor in that duel; the count was slightly wounded. As for young Vermoncey, he left Paris immediately after the affair; he travelled in Normandie, in Belgium, and in Auvergne; and he returned to Paris yesterday with a girl whom he has abducted and brought back with him without his father's knowledge. You see that I am well posted, madame."
Madame Plays was stupefied, and could not find a word to say; when she recovered herself, her first act was to take a piece of a cigar from her bosom and throw it, with an angry gesture, under the divan on which she was seated. When she was able to speak, she faltered:
"What, madame! can it be possible? Monsieur Albert is not dead? that monster, that perfidious wretch, still lives? You are sure of it?"