"That is _impossible_. One of them at least must have some knowledge."

Maurice rang the bell. It was Bettina, who replied. Gustave, she said,
was in the stable, and Baptiste in the garden. The answers of the _femme
de chambre_ to the young viscount were clear and unhesitating: no one
could doubt, for a moment, that she was wholly ignorant of Madeleine's
movement; and her tone and manner evinced, as forcibly as any language
could have done, how deeply she mourned over her absence. Elise was next
summoned, and her replies were but a repetition of Bettina's.

"I will not send for Gustave and Baptiste," he observed, dismissing the
two female domestics,--"I will walk out and see them."

"And I will go with you," said Bertha.

The countess was too well pleased to see the cousins together to object.

Gustave was grooming a horse as they passed by the stable. He paused in
his work to welcome the viscount, and added, in the same breath,--

"Monsieur will find it very dull at the chateau, now. It does not seem
like the same place since Mademoiselle Madeleine left!"

"Have you no idea how she went, Gustave? Some of you surely must know!"

"I know nothing, monsieur. When they told me that Mademoiselle Madeleine
was gone, it was as though a thunder-bolt had struck me. I have never
felt good for anything since!"

There was too much sincerity, too much feeling in his tone for Maurice
to doubt him, or deem further questioning necessary. He walked sadly
away, accompanied by Bertha.

Baptiste was busied near the little _chalet_; he seemed to hover about
it constantly of late. He was aware of the return of his young
master,--he had bowed to him as he was descending from the carriage.
When Bertha and her cousin approached the venerable domestic, his
trepidation was too obvious to escape their notice. He was pruning the
luxuriant growth of some of the vines Madeleine had planted, and the
hand which held his knife shook and committed unintentional havoc among
the blossoming branches.

"Baptiste, come in; I have something to talk to you about," said
Maurice, entering the _chalet_ with Bertha.

How painfully that pleasant little retreat reminded him of Madeleine!
For a moment he was overpowered, and dropped into a chair, covering his
eyes with his hands; perhaps because he could not bear the sight of
objects which called up such agonizing recollections; perhaps because
his eyes were dim with too womanish a moisture.

"Dear Ma