ery plainly
that she did not wish a listener. In fact, no sooner had he withdrawn
than the two women began a conversation in so low a tone that only a
murmur of it reached his ear.

"You came away in such a hurry," said the country-girl, "that you hardly
took time to dress. A pretty-looking sight you are now! If we are going
beyond Alencon, you must really make your toilet."

"Oh! oh! Francine!" cried the lady.

"What is it?"

"This is the third time you have tried to make me tell you the reasons
for this journey and where we are going."

"Have I said one single word which deserves that reproach?"

"Oh, I've noticed your manoeuvring. Simple and truthful as you are,
you have learned a little cunning from me. You are beginning to hold
questioning in horror; and right enough, too, for of all the known ways
of getting at a secret, questions are, to my mind, the silliest."

"Well," said Francine, "since nothing escapes you, you must admit,
Marie, that your conduct would excite the curiosity of a saint.
Yesterday without a penny, to-day your hands are full of gold; at
Mortagne they give you the mail-coach which was pillaged and the driver
killed, with government troops to protect you, and you are followed by a
man whom I regard as your evil genius."

"Who? Corentin?" said the young lady, accenting the words by two
inflections of her voice expressive of contempt, a sentiment which
appeared in the gesture with which she waved her hand towards the rider.
"Listen, Francine," she said. "Do you remember Patriot, the monkey I
taught to imitate Danton?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Well, were you afraid of him?"

"He was chained."

"And Corentin is muzzled, my dear."

"We used to play with Patriot by the hour," said Francine,--"I know
that; but he always ended by serving us some bad trick." So saying,
Francine threw herself hastily back close to her mistress, whose
hands she caught and kissed in a coaxing way; saying in a tone of deep
affection: "You know what I mean, Marie, but you will not answer me. How
can you, after all that sadness which did so grieve me--oh, indeed it
grieved me!--how can you, in twenty-four hours, change about and become
so gay? you, who talked of suicide! Why have you changed? I have a
right to ask these questions of your soul--it is mine, my claim to it is
before that of others, for you will never be better loved than you are
by me. Speak, mademoiselle."

"Why, Francine, don't you see all arou