"The deuce!" I exclaimed, quite alarmed this time.

"Well, that was a stunner, wasn't it, my dear boy?"

"It was indeed! Whatever did you do?"

"I separated them, carrying Gretchen back at once to her carriage."

"Then now I understand the chill which seemed to be over us all

dinner-time. So, after I went out, you had a heavy downfall?"

"Pfuiii!" my uncle began again.

This last sigh seemed to lose itself in such a vista of painful

souvenirs, that the whole of Théramène's narrative would certainly have

taken less time to tell. I proceeded as quickly as I could, foreseeing

that my intervention would be necessary.

"Had I not better run over to my aunt Gretchen's?" I asked him.

"Yes, I certainly think you had. I promised that, except in case of

Ernest's illness proving serious, they should all leave Paris to-morrow!

You may still have time to arrange that this evening," he added, looking

at the clock.

"All right, I'm off!" I replied, rising up.

As I was about to go out, he called me back.

"Ah! above all," he continued sharply, "don't forget to tell Eudoxia

to-morrow that it is you who have undertaken this business, and that as

for me, I have not stirred from here!"

"That's quite understood, uncle," I answered, laughing to myself at the

blue funk he was in.

Needless to add, I did not lose any time. In a quarter of an hour I was

at Passy. It so happened that a favourable crisis had come over Ernest

and relieved him, and he gave no further cause for anxiety. My aunt

Gretchen, who had gone through all this business as a blind man might

pass under an arch, without knowing anything about it, did not evince

the least surprise on hearing that my uncle "having received a telegram

which had obliged him to leave Paris that evening, had commissioned me

in his absence to send her off immediately to Amsterdam." She entrusted

me with no end of compliments for the Countess of Monteclaro, whose

acquaintance she was charmed to have made.

The next morning she was rolling away in the express, delighted to have

made such an agreeable and enjoyable visit.

A week has now passed since this affair, and beyond that my uncle is

still quite humiliated by a malicious sort of gaiety affected by my

aunt, who often calls him "The Pasha," instead of "The Captain," which

is the title she always gave him formerly, everything has resumed the

harmonious tranquillity of the best regulated household. Attentions,

politenesses, gallantries, &c., are quite the order of the day. Only he

is ruining me with all the presents he lavishes upon her; and I have

been forced to make serious complaints on the subject to my aunt, who

has laughed insanely at them, maintaining that it is "the sinner's

ransom." Still, some kind of restrictions are necessary in families, and

I have warned her that, if it continues, I shall stop "the late

Barbassou's" credit, seeing that he is dead.




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