ms; high and low they sought for it--it might
have crept even from the bed--but, no! it was gone. And after half an
hour's further search, she, feeling demented, had told her master all
and how she had taken charge of the child, and had begged him to let
her come to the manoir to see its father. Perhaps, it might yet be
found, might, because God was good, have been found since she had come
away. Who knew? Oh! she prayed it might be so--on her knees she
prayed----

"My horse!" exclaimed St. Georges, turning to the younger man, Gaston,
still standing close by, "my horse, I beg of you! Lose no time in
saddling it. I must go back to the city at once." And turning his head
away from them he murmured: "My child! My little lonely child! Oh, my
child!"

They heard his moan, those three standing there--for now the woman
had risen to her feet--and they pitied him. The old man shook his head
sadly; he was a father and a grandfather himself; the girl sobbed
afresh, and Gaston moved off at once to obey his behest. "My arm is
injured," he stammered, seeing that the soldier's eye was on it now;
"one of the horses kicked it last night in the stable; but--but--I can
still saddle your animal. In an instant, monsieur, in an instant," and
he moved away.

Seeing that he was in pain--indeed, the lad's face was bloodless and
also drawn with suffering--and being himself devoured with eagerness
to return to the city and seek for his child, St. Georges followed him
through the courtyard to where the stables were. And then, noticing
that Gaston could not use his wounded arm at all, he saddled his
animal with his own hands while the young man stood by helpless, or
only able to render him the slightest assistance with his uninjured
arm. And when this was done he led the horse forth to the front of the
manoir and mounted it.

"There is no time for me to pay my respects to madame la marquise," he
said to the servitor--"she will understand my lack of courtesy. Yet,
since it is impossible I can continue my journey to Paris--even the
king's commands must wait now!--I will endeavour not to quit Troyes
without bidding her farewell. Will you tell her that, my friend?"

The old man said he would--that he knew madame would understand and
sympathize with him--and--and--but ere he could finish whatever he
intended to say, St. Georges had put spurs to his horse and was
speeding back to Troyes, while following him along the road on foot
went the unfortuna