be the lascivious Pomegranate Flower, the very same woman with whom he had spent a night of complete debauchery in the Rue Charles V!
Now his time of revenge was here! His evil tongue began to spread rumors, questioning the honor of the great Donna Jose de Corriero. He began to imply-and in that he was not far from the truth-that the man who restored her castle might also restore her wild, lustful and carnal desires.
Julia who did not have the slightest idea of what was going on, noticed soon that on various occasions she was being snubbed by her acquaintances. Women were positively spiteful, and certain men became more courteous than good manners allowed.
Michael, in his circles, had noticed a similar situation.
One night, when they were resting in bed Julia asked him, “Do you think that our love affair has become public knowledge?”
“I doubt it. Let's be honest, nine-tenths of your girl friends have an affair of one kind or another, and this would hardly be a reason for them to be so positively nasty towards you.”
One evening, at a party thrown by one of Julia's best friends, they were to discover the reason.
The guests were breaking up in little clusters and Michael, who was sitting in a corner, happened to be next to the table were several members of the Club de Topinambours were discussing the women who paraded across the rooms. He could clearly hear everything that was said.
“Come on, de Paliseul,” de Melreuse said, “don't try and make use believe that Madame de Corriero is this fantastically lascivious Pomegranate Flower you possessed five years ago. We know that story was a lie, and we have seen the old lady with whom you cavorted and whose twenty springs had left her ages ago. That whole ridiculous history in the Rue Charles V better be forgotten.”
Michael blanched at the words “Pomegranate Flower” and “Rue Charles V.” He was even more depressed when Julia walked by without noticing him, and de Paliseul continued, 'That's her all right. And I have heard stories about her and an artist whom she meets regularly at the home of her sister, the widow Vaudrez.”
And again he smirked.
“Can't you, for once in your life, stop leering, and laugh like normal people,” Maxim de Berney asked. De Paliseul was hewing home awfully close and he'd rather pick a fight than have this conversation continued.
But de Paliseul, who felt that his hour of triumph was near, could not be so easily persuaded to leave his favorite subject.
“Have none of you,” de Paliseul continued, ignoring Maxim's remark, “noticed the striking resemblance between Madame de Corriero's chambermaid and Felicitas from the Rue Charles V?”
“What,” de Melreuse exclaimed. “She is the lady with whom we caught you cavorting on the huge, silk and satin-covered bed?”
“She is the very same.”
Exclamations of surprise, the wildest guesses, the vilest suppositions. The name of Julia de Corriero was on everybody's lips.
“And I would not be in the least surprised,” de Paliseul continued, “if that painter fellow who is always at her sister's home, that Michael Lompret, is my lucky successor.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Michael said as he suddenly stood towering over the astonished Count de Paliseul, “I just heard my name mentioned.
I neither liked the way it was spoken, nor the matter with which it was connected, and I demand satisfaction!”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Maxim de Berny tried his utmost to avoid the unavoidable.
“Sir, I beg you to stay out of this matter which only concerns me and the Count de Paliseul. I demanded satisfaction, and I wish you to name the time and place!”
“Nothing would be more pleasing to me, Mister Lompret, than to give you a taste of my sword. Tomorrow morning?”
That night, Michael did not go to the Rue Charles V, but to his own home. His heart was shattered. Doubt plagued his mind. Could it be true that de Paliseul had not been bragging? Could it be possible that the woman with whom he had lived in bliss and happiness for more than five years was in reality a common courtesan, as de Paliseul had said? Had the old General de Corriero been merely a father to her? His mind worked feverishly. The world was falling apart. Could it be that the Count Gaston Saski had been her one and only lover? After all, she was also known as the Viscountess Saniska! She had told him that she and her sister had been brought up by Aunt Briquart who was a Colonel's widow, and of simple means. Was Aunt Briquart truly a Colonel's widow, or was she an expert matchmaker who through certain liaisons had amassed a fortune? He now even began to doubt the innocent mother-son relationship between Julia and Pedro. After all, the miserable brat had tried to stick his little dagger in his back. He had never told Julia that he had guessed the truth, because it seemed painful to his beloved. Painful! Bah! He had been tricked for almost five years!
The next morning he went to Julia's home on the boulevard St. Michel. He explained to her that the party had given him a terrible headache. He decided not to tell her about the duel which would take place that morning. Under some pretext he left early, kissing her forehead tenderly. It was his farewell kiss.
“What's the matter, darling?” Julia asked anxiously.
“Nothing, dear,” he said, and turning to Dorothy he asked her if she would come home with him, because he had a present for Madame which he had forgotten to bring with him.
He handed her a precious jewel which he had brought for Julia and asked in passing, as if it was nothing of importance, what was behind that story of Dorothy's beautiful behind which she had shown to the members of the Club de Topinambours.
“Oh, that!” Dorothy laughed, and she told him the whole story.
There was no doubt. His whole world had fallen to pieces.
The next morning, his body was brought into his studio and laid upon the bed where he had tasted his first true happiness. His heart had been pierced by de Paliseul who had been very surprised by the fact that a man of Lompret's background defended himself so clumsily.
He was still alive when his friends put him down upon the bed where he and Julia had passed so many happy hours. Jonathan was beside himself. He did not even know Madame de Corriero's address.
And when Julia, informed by Florentine who had heard about the duel from Maxim, entered Michael's home, he had just breathed his last breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The sudden, premature death of Michael was a terrible blow for Julia. She had deeply loved him with every fiber of her being, and his parting almost killed her, too.
They had tried to hide the reason of the duel from her, but one of her vicious acquaintances-the moralist type that seems to grow like cancer in every society-had anonymously written her all the sordid details, including the fact that Michael had not even defended himself. She alone, the vituperative letter concluded, has been responsible for her lover's death.
“He must have cursed me upon his deathbed,” Julia said to Dorothy.
That, of course, had not been the case, but like all those who suffer, Julia found a certain comfort in wallowing in her guilt. Her health of body and mind suffered terribly; she did not even notice that her salon was almost empty on visiting days.
Dorothy and Florentine surrounded her with tender and loving care. The influence and the impeccable name of Count Maxim de Berny, who had come to the defense of Julia's honor wherever and whenever possible, made the rumors that spread through Paris slowly die down. De Paliseul was expelled from the Club de Topinambours because of behavior unworthy of a man of his standing, and finally, things returned to normal.
But Julia's future showed nothing but grayness and loneliness. The months of suffering, illness, and pain had taken her youthful beauty, and the sadness of her heart showed in her eyes.
Julia retired completely from society and bestowed all the love of her entire being upon Claire.
“In another year, I'll take her out of the boarding school,” she had said to her trusted maid, “and the girl will
