"

Robeccal snatched Francine from the sofa, and ran lightly up the stairs.

The room above was elegantly furnished, and had long windows looking out
upon the garden, which seemed to stretch out indefinitely. In reality it
ended at no very great distance in a wall sixteen feet in height.

As Robeccal laid the girl on the bed, he looked at her again with some
anxiety. She was absolutely motionless.

There came a knock at the door. Robeccal started.

"That must be he!" said La Roulante.

It was in fact Talizac, who had arrived. Fernando was with him, but the
Vicomte had knocked with the handle of his cane. It was not the signal
agreed upon, and the door was not opened. Suddenly Frederic uttered an
oath.

"Oh! it is he!" said Robeccal. "That is better than a visiting card!"

But La Roulante insisted on a little argument through the door before
she would consent to move the heavy bolts.

"Damned sorceress!" cried Talizac, "you deserve that I should cut your
face with my cane, for keeping me waiting so long."

La Roulante made no reply to this gentle address, and Talizac, with
blood-stained face and torn clothing, entered the house, followed by
Fernando, who was as dignified and correct in costume as he always was.

When Talizac reached the salon, he dropped into a chair. "Water! for the
love of Heaven, give me some water!" he murmured. He felt almost ill,
and would have been glad of a few hours of rest. "Is she here?" he
asked.

"Yes, she is here," answered La Roulante.

Talizac rose. "I must repair the disorder of my toilette," he said.
"Robeccal, come with me."

On Talizac's return, he asked La Roulante where the Marquise was.

"Oh! she is asleep," was the reply.

"Show me where she is, and move a little faster!"

"It strikes me, sir, that you are not over polite," muttered Robeccal.

"Let him have his own way," sneered the giantess; "he is in a hurry to
see his darling, and has no time to be civil!" She made a grotesque
reverence as she spoke. She preceded the Vicomte to show him the way.
"Do you know," she cried, stopping on the stairs, "that the girl is as
pretty as a pink."

"That is none of your affairs," answered Talizac, roughly, "I pay you to
serve me, not to talk!"

"You are a little hard on us, I think," said La Roulante, with a sneer,
"but I suppose when people are rich they can say and do as they please!"

"Is that the room?" Talizac asked, as he reached the top of the stairs,
"if so,