es de
Lambert, and they drive away with them. The servants they hear the
shots, they return, they come, and they tell us. We follow. We
find the coach; it is in the road, by the north trail. Dieu! they
are all gone! We travel to the river, but--" here he lifted his
shoulders and shook his head dolefully--"we could do nothing."

"The general may let me go after them with a force of cavalry," I
said. "I want you to come with me and talk to him."

"No, no, my capitaine!" said he; "it would not be wise. We must
wait. We do not know where they are. I have friends in Canada;
they are doing their best, and when we hear from them--eh bien, we
shall know what is necessary."

I told him how I had met them that night in Canada, and what came
of it.

"They are a cruel people, the English," said he. "I am afraid to
find them will be a matter of great difficulty."

"But the letter--"

"Ah, the letter," he interrupted, feeling in his pocket. "The
letter is not much. It is from Tiptoes--from Louison. It was
mailed this side of the river at Morristown. You shall see; they
do not know where they are."

He handed me the letter. I read it with an eagerness I could not
conceal. It went as follows:--

"MY DEAR COUNT: If this letter reaches you, it will, I hope,
relieve your anxiety. We are alive and well, but where? I am sure
I have no better idea than if I were a baby just born. We came
here with our eyes covered after a long ride from the river, which
we crossed in the night. I think it must have taken us three days
to come here. We are shut up in a big house with high walls and
trees and gardens around it--a beautiful place. We have fine beds
and everything to eat, only we miss the bouillabaisse, and the
jokes of M. Pidgeon, and the fine old claret. A fat Englishwoman
who waddles around like a big goose and who calls me Mumm (as if I
were a wine-maker!) waits upon us. We do not know the name of our
host. He is a tall man who says little and has hair on his neck
and on the back of his hands. Dieu! he is a lord who talks as if
he were too lazy to breathe. It is 'Your Lordship this' and 'Your
Lordship that.' But I must speak well of him, because he is going
to read this letter: it is on that condition I am permitted to
write. Therefore I say he is a great and good man, a beautiful
man. The baroness and Louise send love to all. Madame says do not
worry; we shall come out all right: but I say _worr