not
concerned in it, being still a child. But the bishop sought high and
low, first for proofs of the marriage and next to discover where the
duke's son was. And Louvois helped him because he had hated your
father, who despised him, as Turenne and many of the other marshals
did."

"But you, mademoiselle," exclaimed St. Georges, "how do you know all
this? And did you know it when we first met?"

"No," she replied, "but my mother suspected. By this time my brother
had heard something from Louvois, who had found out all when the
effects of the Duc de Vannes, which he had taken with him on his last
campaign--his private papers and other things--were brought back to
Paris by the Comte de Lorge, Turenne's nephew; had discovered that the
son was named St. Georges, his English mother's name having been St.
George, but could not discover where the duke had bestowed him. Nor
did he discover it until long afterward, when, happening to once more
refer to the papers brought by the comte, he discovered one he had
overlooked addressed to my mother; and he read it and discovered
thereby that the officer, who was serving in the Regiment of the
Nivernois, under the name of St. Georges, was, in truth, the lawful
Duc de Vannes. Then in his cold, brutal manner he informed the bishop
where the man was who stood in the light of the Church's gains, and
alas! he told that other who expected so much, my unhappy
half-brother. Also he told them both that this man was to be
transferred to another regiment, and that he would set out from
Pontarlier on a certain night. They might care to see him, he
continued; therefore he should receive orders to call on the bishop at
his family residence in Dijon, where he happened to be then, and on my
brother in this house--though, not to arouse any suspicions, he was to
present himself as a visitor to my mother. Also he told them that
which neither dreamed of until then--namely, that Monsieur St.
Georges was a widower, but had a child whom he would doubtless
endeavour to bring with him. You must be able," she concluded, "to
understand the rest."

"Ay!" said the Duc de Vannes, "I can understand. Only still,
mademoiselle, I cannot conceive how you know all this."

"Yet the answer is simple. By one of those marvellous coincidences
which happen as often in our everyday life as in the romances of
Mademoiselle de Scudery, or the fables of Monsieur de La Fontaine, my
brother had once asked my mother if she had ev