lly
the king's. It would be France's salvation. What are they doing there
in Paris?"

"Spending money on lace for the Swiss and giving masks at the Palais
Royal."

"Richelieu died too soon; here would have been his fame." The marquis
never underestimated an enemy. "If your Excellency will excuse me now,
I will sleep. I am an old man, and sleep calls to me often. I will
join you at supper."

"The ladies will be delighted. There is but little here of the life of
the court. When we are not guarding against Indians, we are
celebrating religious fetes."

"Till supper, then, your Excellency."

And the governor departed to read the messages from the queen. She had
placed all Quebec at the disposal of the marquis in the search for his
son. The governor was greatly mystified. That the marquis should
still call the Chevalier by his former title of count added to this
mystery. Since when did fathers set out for sons of the left hand? He
soon gave up the riddle, confident that the marquis himself would solve
it for him.

The marquis rose before sundown and with the assistance of his aged
valet made his toilet. He was dressed in black satin, with white lace
ruffles, and across his breast he flung the ribbon of the Chevalier of
the Order, in honor of the governor's attentions. Presently, from his
window he saw the figure of a woman--young and slender; doubtless some
relative of the governor's. Patiently he waited for her to turn. When
she did so, a subdued exclamation fell from his lips. He had seen that
face before, once or twice on board the Henri IV. It was the woman in
the grey mask. He stared hard and long. Where else had he seen this
face? He was growing old, and sometimes his memory failed him.
Without being conscious of the act, he readjusted his wristbands and
the ruffles at his throat. A handsome young woman at the table would
be a recompense for the dullness of the hour. But he waited in vain at
supper for the appearance of the exquisite face. Like the true
courtier he was, he made no inquiries.

When they were at last alone, the governor said: "I am truly glad you
have come to make the Chevalier return to France. He will never be at
peace here."

"Why?" asked the marquis, weakening his burgundy with water.

"The . . . That is . . ." But the governor foundered.

"Why?" repeated the marquis. "Has he made a fool of himself here as in
France?"

"No, Monsieur," warmly. "He has pr