e
beauty claimed it on his left--both women ignoring the attempts of the
men to shake hands with the hero of the hour.

One of the men, an elderly and distinguished-looking personage with a
commanding mien, now pressed forward to introduce himself. "Monsieur, I
am the Marquis Lyonel de Fervlans," he repeated in a patronizing tone.

"I am Alfred Cambray," was the simple response.

"Ah? Pray, have the kindness to tell us--the friends of the
countess--what has happened?"

M. Cambray related how and where he had found the lost child, the
company listening with eager attention. All were deeply affected. Some
of the women wept. When M. Cambray concluded his recital, the marquis
grasped both his hands, and, pressing them warmly, said in a trembling
voice:

"Thanks, many thanks, you brave, good man! We will never forget your
kindness."

One of the physicians now came from the boudoir, and announced that the
countess was better, and desired to speak to the deliverer of her child.

The countess was reclining on an ottoman, half buried in luxurious
cushions. Her little daughter was kneeling by her side, her head resting
on her mother's knee. It was a charming tableau.

"I am not able to express my gratitude, monsieur," began the countess,
in a faint voice, extending both hands toward M. Cambray. "I hope you
will allow me to call you my friend. I shall never cease to thank you!
Amelie, my love, kiss this hand; look at this face; impress it on your
heart, and never, _never_ forget it, for this brave gentleman rescued
you from a most horrible fate."

M. Cambray listened to these profuse expressions of gratitude, but with
heedless ear. His thoughts were with the fugitives. He longed to know if
they had escaped pursuit. While the countess was speaking he could not
help but think that a great ado was being made because a little countess
had been abandoned half clad in the public street. _He_ knew of another
little maid who had been treated with far greater cruelty.

His reply was brief:

"Your little daughter is very charming."

The mother sat upright with sudden decision, and unfastened the ivory
locket from the black ribbon around her neck. It contained a portrait of
the little countess Amelie.

"If the memory of the little foundling you rescued is dear to you,
monsieur, then accept this from me, and think sometimes of your
protegee."

It was a noble gift indeed! The lovely countess had given him her most
valued orn