father more. One owes some consideration to a young girl."

"Wretch!" exclaimed the novelist. "And you can jest after having
committed that Judas-like act! To inform a child of her father's
misdeeds, when she is ignorant of them!.... Never, do you hear, never
any more will Monsieur de Montfanon and I set foot in your shop, nor
Monseigneur Guerillot, nor any of the persons of my acquaintance. I will
tell the whole world of your infamy. I will write it, and it shall
appear in all the journals of Rome. I will ruin you, I will force you to
close this dusty old shop."

During the entire day, Dorsenne vainly tried to shake off the weight of
melancholy which that visit to the brigand of the Rue Borgognona had left
upon his heart.

On crossing, at nine o'clock, the threshold of the Villa Steno to give an
account of his mission to the Contessina, he was singularly moved. There
was no one there but the Maitlands, two tourists and two English
diplomatists, on their way to posts in the East.

"I was awaiting you," said Alba to her friend, as soon as she could speak
with him in a corner of the salon. "I need your advice. Last night a
tragical incident took place at the Hafner's."

"Probably," replied Dorsenne. "Fanny has bought Ribalta's book."

"She has bought the book!" said Alba, changing color and trembling.
"Ah, the unhappy girl; the other thing was not sufficient!"

"What other thing?" questioned Julien.