The poor girl, recalled to a sense of her duty by these words, shuddered at her own imprudence, and bitterly, though too late, regretted the emotion she had been unable to restrain or conceal. But, as she strove for words to reassure her parent, the door was suddenly opened: "Gracious heavens!" cried Bertha, in extreme terror, "my husband!"
And M. de Brévannes, without knocking, or any other announcement, abruptly entered the apartment of the engraver.
The unexpected appearance of M. de Brévannes was followed by an unbroken silence of several instants, neither of the three actors in the scene uttering a single word.
Poor Bertha's heart sunk within her, as at the first glance she read the hard-hearted mockery impressed on the features of her husband.
The stern countenance of Pierre Raimond, which, until then, had relaxed into an expression of gentleness and kindness, suddenly assumed a look of proud energy. Drawing up his tall figure, and placing his daughter behind him, as if for protection, he advanced a few steps towards M. de Brévannes, saying briefly, "What is your pleasure here, sir?"
"My pleasure is to know whether or not Madame de Brévannes has told me the truth in saying she was coming to pass her morning with you; and, having my own reasons for doubting the veracity of her statement, I have thought fit to come hither to substantiate the fact."
"Charles!" murmured Bertha, in a tone of gentle reproach.
"I desire, sir, that you will not presume to accuse a child of mine of falsehood," retorted old Raimond.
"I do not consider myself responsible to you, M. Raimond, or any other person, for my actions. And, if I suspect my wife of uttering that which is not true, it is because----"
"If she has spoken untruly," cried Pierre Raimond, fiercely interrupting his son-in-law, "it has been to me, not you."
"In what manner?" inquired the latter, regarding Bertha with extreme astonishment.
"Charles, I beseech you!--and you too, dear father!"
"She spoke falsely but now," exclaimed the old man, in a loud, stern voice, "when she assured me she was happy."
"Ah, now I understand," replied M. de Brévannes, coldly: "Madame de Brévannes came hither amid hypocritical tears and sighs to dwell upon her domestic felicity,--a clever idea! I give her much credit for it."