"My dear Count," said De Berniers, "the comedy is finished, and we can all drop our rôles, except M. de Montalvan, who, I imagine, will continue to hold his longer than he desires. And now, where is Mlle. Virginie?"
"Is he mad?" said De Terville.
"Mlle. Virginie is here, at your service," said the lady, coolly.
"That's very well," replied De Berniers, "but I tell you the curtain has fallen. Poor M. de Montalvan is puzzled enough already. Let us send for Mlle. Virginie, and show him his error."
"No mere of this senseless jesting," said the Count; "Mlle. Virginie is here; say what you desire, respectfully, and allow us to wish you good day and a comfortable journey."
De Berniers's head began to swim. "But this is her cousin, not herself," he exclaimed.
"My niece has no cousin," said the Count.
"The fact is," said Virginie, "that my cousin Charles and I are one; and my reason for the little masquerade was—"
But De Berniers heard no more. He rushed frantically from the library, straight to the stables, mounted his horse, and galloped wildly away to the inn, whence he departed for Paris within an hour.
M. de Terville was as much mystified as he was outraged by De Berniers's behavior; but Virginie, although she at once confided the secret to De Montalvan, thought it prudent to conceal it for a while from her uncle, who remained unacquainted with all the details until after the marriage, which was not long deferred.