t planted with tall trees which overshadowed
three or four rivulets.

"We call this place Noires-Fontaines," M. Leduc explained.

"And here Madame de Montrevel, Amelie and little Edouard will dwell. Now
what are those villages which I see in front of me?"

"Here, close at hand, is Montagnac; yonder, on the mountain side,
Ceyzeriat."

"Is that where the grotto is?"

"Yes. But how did you know there was a grotto at Ceyzeriat?"

"Never mind, go on. The name of those other villages, if you please."

"Saint-Just, Treconnas, Ramasse, Villereversure."

"That will do."

"Have you enough?"

"Yes."

I drew out my note-book, sketched a plan of the locality and wrote about
in their relative positions the names of the villages which M. Leduc had
just pointed out to me.

"That's done!" said I.

"Where shall we go now?"

"Isn't the church of Brou near this road?"

"Yes."

"Then let us go to the church of Brou."

"Do you need that in your novel?"

"Yes, indeed; you don't imagine I am going to lay my scene in a country
which contains the architectural masterpiece of the sixteenth century
without utilizing that masterpiece, do you?"

"Let us go to the church of Brou."

A quarter of an hour later the sacristan showed us into this granite
jewel-case which contains the three marble gems called the tombs of
Marguerite of Austria, Marguerite or Bourbon, and of Philibert le Beau.

"How is it," I asked the sacristan, "that all these masterpieces were
not reduced to powder during the Revolution?"

"Ah! sir, the municipality had an idea."

"What was it?"

"That of turning the church into a storage house for fodder."

"Yes, and the hay saved the marble; you are right, my friend, that _was_
an idea."

"Does this idea of the municipality afford you another?" asked M. Leduc.

"Faith, yes, and I shall have poor luck if I don't make something out of
it."

I looked at my watch. "Three o'clock! Now for the prison. I have an
appointment with M. Milliet at four on the Place du Bastion."

"Wait; there is one thing more."

"What is that?"

"Have you noticed Marguerite of Austria's motto?"

"No; where is it?"

"Oh, all over. In the first place, look above her tomb."

"'Fortune, infortune, fort'une.'"

"Exactly."

"Well, what does this play of words mean?"

"Learned men translate it thus: 'Fate persecutes a woman much.'"

"Explain that a little."

"You must, in the first place, assume that it is derived fro