Well,
the captain, having returned from Aden with the fever, and being at
Paris on his way home, accepted the hospitality of Baron de Villeneuve,
late consul at Pondicherry, whom you know. Two days ago we were invited
to a farewell dinner, given in his honour. It was quite a love-feast:
half a dozen friends, all of whom had been several times round the
world, and had met each other in various latitudes. The ladies consisted
of the amiable Baroness de Villeneuve, Mrs. Picklock, and my aunt. You
may imagine what a number of old recollections they discussed during
dinner. After the coffee we went into the drawing-room, where a
card-table was being set out for whist, when my uncle said:

"By the bye, what has become of our good friend Montague?"

"Oh, Montague," answered the baron; "he is in Paris. He has been
prevented from dining with us by an invitation to his ambassador's; but
he will look in this evening, and you will see him."

"Ah, that's capital!" exclaimed my uncle; "I shall be delighted to see
him again."

When I heard this name mentioned, I pricked up my ears. Still there was
nothing to indicate that the Montague spoken of was the commodore. I
listened with curiosity.

"Will he stay in Paris any length of time?" my uncle continued.

"The whole winter," replied the baroness. "He has come to pick up his
daughters, whom he had left in my charge two years ago, before he went
off to the North Pole."

"Ah, yes! little Maud and Suzannah," observed my uncle.

"Yes, captain; only your _little_ Maud and Suzannah are now grown-up
young ladies," added the baroness with a laugh.

It was impossible for me to entertain any more doubts; and I confess my
mind was far from easy when I heard this. At the thought of meeting the
commodore, my first idea was to get away at once, before he arrived.
Although I was confident of the perfect security of my secret, and
although it was the merest chance that had brought about the intimacy
which I could not have foreseen between Kondje-Gul and his daughters, I
could not conceal from myself the embarrassment which I should feel in
his presence. As bad luck would have it, I was already seated at the
card-table. I lost my tricks as fast as I could in order to shorten the
game, swearing inwardly at the captain and my uncle, who were both of
them playing with a provoking deliberation, and lecturing me upon my
careless play. At last, having succeeded in losing my three rubbers, I
got up