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returned he.



"How so; pray tell me, for pity's sake?"

"In this way, madame--you have touched the axe," said



Montriveau, lowering his voice.

"What an enchanting prophecy!" returned she, smiling with



assumed grace. "And when is my head to fall?"

"I have no wish to see that pretty head of yours cut off. I



only fear some great misfortune for you. If your head were

clipped close, would you feel no regrets for the dainty golden



hair that you turn to such good account?"

"There are those for whom a woman would love to make such a



sacrifice; even if, as often happens, it is for the sake of a man

who cannot make allowances for an outbreak of temper."



"Quite so. Well, and if some wag were to spoil your beauty on a

sudden by some chemical process, and you, who are but eighteen



for us, were to be a hundred years old?"

"Why, the smallpox is our Battle of Waterloo, monsieur," she



interrupted. "After it is over we find out those who love us

sincerely."



"Would you not regret the lovely face that?"

"Oh! indeed I should, but less for my own sake than for the sake



of someone else whose delight it might have been. And, after

all, if I were loved, always loved, and truly loved, what would



my beauty matter to me?--What do you say, Clara?"

"It is a dangerous speculation," replied Mme de Serizy.



"Is it permissible to ask His Majesty the King of Sorcerers when

I made the mistake of touching the axe, since I have not been to



London as yet?----"

"NOT SO," he answered in English, with a burst of ironical



laughter.

"And when will the punishment begin?"



At this Montriveau coolly took out his watch, and ascertained the

hour with a truly appalling air of conviction.



"A dreadfulmisfortune will befall you before this day is out."

"I am not a child to be easily frightened, or rather, I am a



child ignorant of danger," said the Duchess. "I shall dance

now without fear on the edge of the precipice."



"I am delighted to know that you have so much strength of

character," he answered, as he watched her go to take her place



in a square dance.

But the Duchess, in spite of her apparentcontempt for Armand's



dark prophecies, was really frightened. Her late lover's

presence weighed upon her morally and physically with a sense of



oppression that scarcely ceased when he left the ballroom. And

yet when she had drawn freer breath, and enjoyed the relief for a



moment, she found herself regretting the sensation of dread, so

greedy of extremesensations is the feminine nature. The regret



was not love, but it was certainly akin to other feelings which

prepare the way for love. And then--as if the impression which



Montriveau had made upon her were suddenly revived--she

recollected his air of conviction as he took out his watch, and



in a sudden spasm of dread she went out.

By this time it was about midnight. One of her servants, waiting



with her pelisse, went down to order her carriage. On her way

home she fell naturally enough to musing over M. de Montriveau's



prediction. Arrived in her own courtyard, as she supposed, she

entered a vestibule almost like that of her own hotel, and



suddenly saw that the staircase was different. She was in a

strange house. Turning to call her servants, she was attacked by



several men, who rapidly flung a handkerchief over her mouth,

bound her hand and foot, and carried her off. She shrieked



aloud.

"Madame, our orders are to kill you if you scream," a voice



said in her ear.

So great was the Duchess's terror, that she could never recollect



how nor by whom she was transported. When she came to herself,

she was lying on a couch in a bachelor's lodging, her hands and



feet tied with silken cords. In spite of herself, she shrieked

aloud as she looked round and met Armand de Montriveau's eyes.



He was sitting in his dressing-gown, quietly smoking a cigar in

his armchair.



"Do not cry out, Mme la Duchesse," he said, coollytaking the

cigar out of his mouth; "I have a headache. Besides, I will






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