me altogether. But for others I held my tongue,
and no one, to this hour, knows what passed between the poor marquis and
me."

"But evidently there were suspicions," said Newman. "Where did Mr.
Valentin get his ideas?"

"It was the little doctor from Poitiers. He was very ill-satisfied, and
he made a great talk. He was a sharp Frenchman, and coming to the house,
as he did day after day, I suppose he saw more than he seemed to see.
And indeed the way the poor marquis went off as soon as his eyes fell on
my lady was a most shocking sight for anyone. The medical gentleman from
Paris was much more accommodating, and he hushed up the other. But for
all he could do Mr. Valentin and Mademoiselle heard something; they knew
their father's death was somehow against nature. Of course they couldn't
accuse their mother, and, as I tell you, I was as dumb as that stone.
Mr. Valentin used to look at me sometimes, and his eyes seemed to shine,
as if he were thinking of asking me something. I was dreadfully afraid
he would speak, and I always looked away and went about my business. If
I were to tell him, I was sure he would hate me afterwards, and that I
could never have borne. Once I went up to him and took a great liberty;
I kissed him, as I had kissed him when he was a child. 'You oughtn't to
look so sad, sir,' I said; 'believe your poor old Bread. Such a gallant,
handsome young man can have nothing to be sad about.' And I think he
understood me; he understood that I was begging off, and he made up
his mind in his own way. He went about with his unasked question in
his mind, as I did with my untold tale; we were both afraid of bringing
dishonor on a great house. And it was the same with Mademoiselle. She
didn't know what happened; she wouldn't know. My lady and Mr. Urbain
asked me no questions because they had no reason. I was as still as
a mouse. When I was younger my lady thought me a hussy, and now she
thought me a fool. How should I have any ideas?"

"But you say the little doctor from Poitiers made a talk," said Newman.
"Did no one take it up?"

"I heard nothing of it, sir. They are always talking scandal in these
foreign countries you may have noticed--and I suppose they shook their
heads over Madame de Bellegarde. But after all, what could they say? The
marquis had been ill, and the marquis had died; he had as good a right
to die as any one. The doctor couldn't say he had not come honestly by
his cramps. The next year the