"I understand the situation now, I think. M. de Mornand had also entered the lists, it seems."

"We will talk all this over to-morrow. Now, in Heaven's name, take Mlle.

de Beaumesnil away at once!"

"Ah, you are certainly our guardian angel, my dear marquis," whispered Madame de la Rochaigue. "I was wise to confide in you!"

"Yes, yes, but for pity's sake, get Mlle. de Beaumesnil away."

The orphan cast a quick glance of grat.i.tude at the hunchback, then, agitated and almost terrified by the exciting events of the evening, she left the ballroom in company with Madame de la Rochaigue; but M. de Maillefort remained, unwilling to appear to leave under cover of the sort of stupor his daring act had caused.

De Ravil, like a true cynic, had no sooner witnessed the ruin of his friend Mornand's hopes than he abandoned him then and there. The future minister had thrown himself into a cab, but Ravil wended his way homeward on foot, reviewing the events that had just occurred, and comparing the overthrow of M. de Mornand with that of M. de Macreuse.

As he turned the corner of the street on which Madame de Mirecourt's house stood, De Ravil saw in the bright moonlight a man a short distance ahead of him, walking now slowly, now with feverish haste.

The agitated bearing of this man excited the cynic's curiosity. He quickened his pace, and soon recognised M. de Macreuse, who could not tear himself away from the house where the marquis lingered,--the marquis whose heart Macreuse would have torn from his breast, had he been able to do it.

Yielding to a truly diabolical impulse, Ravil approached Macreuse, and said:

"Good evening, M. de Macreuse."

The abbe's protege raised his head, and the evil pa.s.sions that filled his heart could be read so plainly in his face that De Ravil congratulated himself upon his idea.

"What do you want?" Macreuse demanded, brusquely, not recognising De Ravil at the first glance. Then looking at him more attentively, he said:

"Ah, it is you, M. de Ravil; excuse me."

He made a movement as if about to walk on, but De Ravil checked him by saying:

"M. de Macreuse, I feel sure that we are likely to understand and be of service to each other."

"In what way, monsieur?"

"We hate the same man, that is something."

"Whom?"

"M. de Maillefort."

"So you, too, hate him?"

"With a deadly hatred."

"Well, what of it, monsieur?"

"Well, having the same animosity, we may have the same interests."

"I do not understand you, M. de Ravil."

"M. de Macreuse, you are a much too gifted and energetic man to allow yourself to be discouraged by one setback."

"What setback, monsieur?"

"So I will take you into my confidence. I had a fool of a friend, known to you as M. de Mornand, who had designs upon the same heiress that you did."

"M. de Mornand?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, a few minutes after your hasty departure, that d--d marquis exposed him as he had exposed you. That is to say, he has rendered my imbecile friend's marriage with the little Beaumesnil an impossibility."

"But what difference does it make to you whether the heiress does or does not marry your friend?"

"The devil! A great deal of difference! I went into the affair with the expectation of getting a handsome percentage on the dowry, so that accursed hunchback ruined me in ruining Mornand. Do you understand now?"

"Perfectly."

"Mornand is too much of a milksop--too blubbery, in short, to make any attempt to recover from his setback or even to console himself by revenge."

"Revenge? Upon whom?"

"Upon that little ninny of an heiress, and indirectly upon that d--d hunchback. But let me a.s.sure you that I am not one of those blockheads who thirst for revenge alone; it is a profitable revenge I am after every time."

"Profitable?"

"Yes, very profitable, and I can furnish the materials for it, too."

"You? And what are your materials, pray?"

"Excuse me. I possess a very valuable secret."

"In relation to Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"

"The same. I can work up this valuable secret alone, however, just as well."

"And yet you offer--"

"To go shares with you? Nothing of the kind. You would think me a simpleton if I did, and you've no fondness for simpletons."

"Then, monsieur, to what purpose--?"

"You did not embark in such an important enterprise--as my imbecile friend the politician would say--you did not embark in such an important enterprise as your marriage with the greatest heiress in France without backers, without powerful intermediaries and without strong probabilities of success. One does not make such a blunder as that when one is the founder of the St. Polycarpe Mission,--a work, by the way, which has convinced me that you are a remarkably able man, and gained you my sincere admiration. This being the case, you are too high-spirited to submit quietly to such a setback to the atrocious treatment you have received from M. de Maillefort. You may, perhaps, have some means of retrieving your lost ground, or of obtaining your object in some other way, and so long as the little Beaumesnil remains single, a man like you does not abandon hope."

"Well, so be it, monsieur; suppose I have not given up all hope, what then?"

"If you admit that, I will propose that we pool, you, your means of success, and I, my secret. If your hopes are realised, we will not make use of my secret; if they are not realised, my secret will remain a luscious, juicy pear to quench our thirst. In short, if you marry the heiress, you will give me a small percentage on her dowry; if you do not marry her, I will give you a part of the money my secret will gain for me, that is, if the aforesaid secret can not be made to render you valuable a.s.sistance in your new attempt."

"All this is worthy of attention," answered Macreuse, after a moment's reflection, for he, too, was beginning to think that he and De Ravil were, indeed, congenial spirits. "But it would be well for me to know what this secret is, and what its influence is likely to be."

"Give me your arm, my dear M. de Macreuse, I am going to state the case plainly to you, for I have nothing to gain by deceiving you, as you will soon see for yourself."

The two men walked on arm in arm and were soon lost in the shadow of the tall houses that bordered one edge of the sidewalk.