that the fanaticism of Montfanon would be confronted with Fanny's father,
an episode of comedy suddenly cast across Gorka's drama of jealousy.

Julien resumed with a smile: "You must watch Montfanon's face when we
inform him of those two witnesses. He is a man of the fifteenth century,
you know, a Montluc, a Duc d'Alba, a Philippe II. I do not know which he
detests the most, the Freemasons, the Free-thinkers, the Protestants, the
Jews, or the Germans. And as this obscure and tortuous Hafner is a
little of everything, he has vowed hatred against him!.... Leaving that
out of the question, he suspects him of being a secret agent in the
service of the Triple Alliance! But let us see the letter."

He opened and glanced through it. "This craftiness serves for something,
it is equivalent almost to kindness. He, too, has felt that it is
necessary to end our affair, were it only to avoid scandal. He appoints
a meeting at his house between six and seven o'clock with me and your
second. Come, time is flying. You must come to the Marquis to make your
request officially. Begin this way. Obtain his promise before
mentioning Hafner's name. I know him. He will not retract his word.
But it is just."

The two friends found Montfanon awaiting them in his office, a large room
filled with books, from which could be obtained a fine view of the
panorama of the Forum, more majestic still on that afternoon when the
shadows of the columns and arches grew longer on the sidewalk. The room
with its brick floor had no other comfort than a carpet under the large
desk littered with papers--no doubt fragments of the famous work on the
relations of the French nobility and the Church. A crucifix stood upon
the desk. On the wall were two engravings, that of Monseigneur Pie, the
holy Bishop of Poitiers, and that of General de Sonis, on foot, with his