been observing, Monsieur," she said. "That was my uncle,
Monsieur de Beausejour. You saw me quarrelling with my brother,
Auguste," she went on a little excitedly. "Oh, I am very much ashamed
of it. I was so angry. My cousin, Mademoiselle Helene de Saint-Gre, has
just sent me from France such a beautiful miniature, and Auguste fell in
love with it."

"Fell in love with it!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

"You should see it, Monsieur, and I think you also would fall in love
with it."

"I have not a doubt of it," said Nick.

Mademoiselle made the faintest of moues.

"Auguste is very wild, as you say," she continued, addressing me, "he is
a great care to my father. He intrigues, you know, he wishes Louisiane
to become French once more,--as we all do. But I should not say this,
Monsieur," she added in a startled tone. "You will not tell? No, I know
you will not. We do not like the Spaniards. They killed my grandfather
when they came to take the province. And once, the Governor-general Miro
sent for my father and declared he would put Auguste in prison if he did
not behave himself. But I have forgotten the miniature. When Auguste
saw that he fell in love with it, and now he wishes to go to France and
obtain a commission through our cousin, the Marquis of Saint-Gre, and
marry Mademoiselle Helene."

"A comprehensive programme, indeed," said Nick.

"My father has gone back to New Orleans," she said, "to get the
miniature from Auguste. He took it from me, Monsieur." She raised her
head a little proudly. "If my brother had asked it, I might have given
it to him, though I treasured it. But Auguste is so--impulsive. My uncle
told my father, who is very angry. He will punish Auguste severely,
and--I do not like to have him punished. Oh, I wish I had the
miniature."

"Your wish is granted, Mademoiselle," I answered, drawing the case from
my pocket and handing it to her.

She took it, staring at me with eyes wide with wonder, and then she
opened it mechanically.

"Monsieur," she said with great dignity, "do you mind telling me where
you obtained this?"

"I found it, Mademoiselle," I answered; and as I spoke I felt Nick's
fingers on my arm.

"You found it? Where? How, Monsieur?"

"At Madame Bouvet's, the house where we stayed."

"Oh," she said with a sigh of relief, "he must have dropped it. It
is there where he meets his associates, where they talk of the French
Louisiane."

Again I felt Nick pinching me, and I gave a