evening. It is charming, upon my word! and I am truly a fortunate
man!"

In the smoking-room, Pascal could hear the baroness angrily stamp
her foot, as she exclaimed: "It is an outrageous insult--your
journalists are most impertinent."

"Why? Do they ever trouble honest women?"

"They wouldn't trouble me if I had a husband who knew how to make
them treat me with respect!"

The baron laughed a strident, nervous laugh, which it was not
pleasant to hear, and which revealed the fact that intense
suffering was hidden beneath all this banter. "Would you like me
to fight a duel then? After twenty years has the idea of ridding
yourself of me occurred to you again? I can scarcely believe it.
You know too well that you would receive none of my money, that I
have guarded against that. Besides, you would be inconsolable if
the newspapers ceased talking about you for a single day. Respect
yourself, and you will be respected. The publicity you complain
of is the last anchor which prevents society from drifting one
knows not where. Those who would not listen to the warning voice
of honor and conscience are restrained by the fear of a little
paragraph which might disclose their shame. Now that a woman no
longer has a conscience, the newspapers act in place of it. And I
think it quite right, for it is our only hope of salvation."

By the stir in the adjoining room, Pascal felt sure that the
baroness had stationed herself before the door to prevent her