not only because the match was good, and likely to insure the happiness of her child, but because it would also set her at liberty. She ran therefore to Debray's, who, after having, like the rest of Paris, witnessed the contract scene and the scandal attending it, had retired in haste to his club, where he was chatting with some friends upon the events which served as a subject of conversation for three-fourths of that city known as the capital of the world.
At this precise time when Madame Danglars, dressed in black and concealed in a long veil, was ascending the stairs leading to the apartments of Debray, notwithstanding the assurances of the janitor that the young man was not at home, Debray was occupied in repelling the insinuations of a friend, who tried to pursuade him that after the terrible scene which had just taken place he ought, as a friend of the family, to marry Mademoiselle Danglars and her two millions.
Debray defended himself as if he wished to be conquered, for the idea had sometimes crossed his mind; still, when he recollected the independent, proud spirit of Eugénie, he resumed a defensive attitude, saying that such a union was utterly impossible, though he allowed himself to be tickled by the evil thought, which, as moralists say, incessantly preoccupies the wisest and purest men, watching in the depths of their souls, like Satan behind the cross. Tea, play, and conversation, which had become interesting during the discussion of such serious affairs, lasted till one o'clock in the morning.
Meanwhile Madame Danglars, veiled and fainting, awaited the return of Debray in the little green room, seated between two baskets of flowers, which she had that morning sent, and which, it must be confessed, Debray had himself arranged and watered with so much care that his absence was half excused in the eyes of the poor woman. At forty minutes past eleven, Madame Danglars, tired of waiting, returned home. Women of a certain grade are like grisettes in one respect, they seldom return home after twelve o'clock.
The baroness returned to the hotel with as much caution as Eugénie used in leaving it; she ran lightly upstairs, and with an aching heart entered her apartment, contiguous, as we know, to that of Eugénie. She was fearful of exciting any remark, and believed firmly in her daughter's innocence and fidelity to her paternal roof. She listened at Eugénie's door, then, hearing no sound, she tried to enter, but the bolts were drawn. Madame Danglars fancied that, fatigued with the terrible excitement of the evening, she had retired to her bed and slept. She called her lady's maid and questioned her.
"Mademoiselle Eugénie," she said, "retired to her apartment with Mademoiselle d'Armilly; they then took tea together, after which they desired me to leave, saying they required me no longer."
