bursts of rage, directed against the strokes of that inexorable destiny,
which had ruined in a moment the best founded hopes. When the carriage
entered the courtyard, and stopped before the portico, the princess's
face could be seen through one of the windows, half hidden by the folds
of a curtain; in her burning anxiety, she came to see if it was really
Father d'Aigrigny who arrived at the house. Still more, in defiance of
all ordinary rules, this great lady, generally so scrupulous as to
appearances, hurried from her apartment, and descended several steps of
the staircase, to meet Father d'Aigrigny, who was coming up with a
dejected air. At sight of the livid and agitated countenance of the
reverend father, the princess stopped suddenly, and grew pale. She
suspected that all was lost. A look rapidly exchanged with her old lover
left her no doubt of the issue she so much feared. Rodin humbly followed
the reverend father, and both, preceded by the princess, entered the
room. The door once closed, the princess, addressing Father d'Aigrigny,
exclaimed with unspeakable anguish: "What has happened?"

Instead of answering this question, the reverend father, his eyes
sparkling with rage, his lips white, his features contracted, looked
fixedly at the princess, and said to her: "Do you know the amount of this
inheritance, that we estimated at forty millions?"

"I understand," cried the princess; "we have been deceived. The
inheritance amounts to nothing, and all you have dare has been in vain."

"Yes, it has indeed been in vain," answered the reverend father, grinding
his teeth with rage; "it was no question of forty millions, but of two
hundred and twelve millions.

"Two hundred and twelve millions!" repeated the princess in amazement, as