ll knew that, although
the domestics were all warmly attached to Madeleine, the devotion of
Baptiste was unsurpassed. The count did not, for one instant, doubt that
she had really gone. Some assistance she must have had, and Baptiste's
was the aid she would naturally have selected. He chose to interrogate
the old man himself, to _prevent his giving_ rather than to extract
information from him.

The simple-hearted gardener was not an adept in deception. He was
digging among his flower-beds when his master approached him, and it did
not escape the nobleman's observation that the spade went into the
ground and was drawn out again with increased rapidity as he drew near,
and that the head of Baptiste, instead of being lifted to see who was
coming, was bent down as though he wished to appear wholly engrossed in
his occupation.

"Baptiste?"

"Monsieur?"

The tremulous voice in which that one word was uttered, and his guilty
countenance, scarcely raised as he spoke, were enough to convict him.

"Has Mademoiselle Madeleine passed you in walking out, this morning?"

"No, monsieur. I have been very busy, monsieur; these flower-beds are in
a terrible state; it is not easy for one pair of hands to keep them even
in tolerable order. I have not noticed who passed. I don't generally
look about me,--I"--

"Oh, very well; we thought perhaps you might have seen Mademoiselle
Madeleine to-day, as she must have walked out; but, as you know nothing
at all about her, I will inform the countess and Mademoiselle Bertha."

"I am much obliged to monsieur," replied Baptiste, gratefully.

He could not conceal his thankfulness at escaping the cross-examination
which he had anticipated with the dread natural to one wholly
unpractised in dissimulation.

"This handkerchief of M. de Bois was found in the _chalet_," continued
the count. "I suppose he sometimes strolls over here in the morning, at
an hour too early for visiting; it is very natural, as we are such near
neighbors."

"As monsieur says, it would be very natural."

The count had gained all the information that he desired, and without
letting Baptiste suspect he had betrayed his secret. That Madeleine had
actually fled, that M. de Bois had lent his aid, and that Baptiste had
been taken into their confidence, was indubitable.

The count returned to the chateau, and joined his mother, who was making
vain attempts to soothe Bertha. The only comfort to which she would
listen was th