the top of a bookcase, where it was destined
to keep company with an owl and a cormorant shot by Armand during the
recent holidays and stuffed by paternal pride, when the door of the
study opened and Lucas announced,--

"Monsieur Philippe."

The age of the old majordomo and the confidential post he occupied in
Marie-Gaston's establishment seemed to the factotum of the house of
l'Estorade to authorize the designation of "monsieur,"--a civility
expectant of return, be it understood.

Descending from his eminence, the peer of France asked Philippe what
brought him, and whether anything had happened at Ville d'Avray. The old
servant related the singular departure of his master, and the no less
singular departure of Sallenauve without a word of explanation; then he
added,--

"This morning, while putting monsieur's room in order, a letter
addressed to Madame le comtesse fell out of a book. As the letter was
sealed and all ready to be sent, I supposed that monsieur, in the hurry
of departure, had forgotten to tell me to put it in the post. I thought
therefore I had better bring it here myself. Perhaps Madame la comtesse
will find in it some explanation of this sudden journey, about which I
have dreamed all night."

Monsieur de l'Estorade took the letter.

"Three black seals!" he said.

"The color doesn't surprise me," replied Philippe; "for since Madame's
death monsieur has not laid off his mourning; but I do think three seals
are rather strange."

"Very well," said Monsieur de l'Estorade; "I will give the letter to my
wife."

"If there should be anything in it to ease my mind about monsieur, would
Monsieur le comte be so kind as to let me know?" said Philippe.

"You can rely on that, my good fellow. _Au revoir_."

"I beg Monsieur le comte's pardon for offering an opinion," said the
majordomo, not accepting the leave just given him to depart; "but in
case the letter contained some bad news, doesn't Monsieur le comte think
that it would be best for him to know of it, in order to prepare Madame
la comtesse for the shock?"

"What! Do you suppose--" said Monsieur de l'Estorade, not finishing his
idea.

"I don't know; but monsieur has been very gloomy the last few days."

"To break the seal of a letter not addressed to us is always a serious
thing to do," remarked the peer of France. "This bears my wife's
address, but--in point of fact--it was never sent to her; in short, it
is most embarrassing."

"But if by r