er heard of you, if your
assumed name was known to her; the bishop supposing that she was
greedy as he himself, had sent to warn her that you were on your way
to Paris, and that it would be well if she could recognise in you any
traces of your father and would send a word to Louvois saying whether
she thought you were the man. But he overreached himself,"
Mademoiselle de Roquemaure added; "my mother's sympathies were with
the son of him she had once loved so dearly, not with him who was the
son of the man she had married. And as for Phelypeaux--she despised
him!"

"Heaven bless her!" exclaimed the duke. "Yet still I know not how she
unravelled all--how found out my birthright--my mother's name."

"That, too, is simple. Louvois died suddenly, as you know, in disgrace
with the king. Some said by poison administered by himself, some from
fear of the king's displeasure. Be that, however, as it may, his son,
Barbezieux, was not allowed to touch any of his papers and all were
handed to Louis intact. He confided them to De Chamlay, who refused
Louvois's vacant post as minister of war but consented to go over his
state affairs, and in those papers he found all; a copy of your
father's letter to the bishop, the letter to my mother which had never
been delivered--telling her everything and begging her to see you
righted--his will and his marriage certificate, as well as that of
your birth. Monseigneur, I have them upstairs--I showed them to the
king the night before last--they are now at your disposal."

Boussac had strolled away ere the narrative was done--his delicacy
prompting him to leave them alone--and as she concluded the Duke de
Vannes dropped on his knee by her side, and, taking her hand,
murmured:

"Forgive, pardon me! Bring yourself to say you forgive the evil I have
thought, and let me go. Unworthy as I am to ask it, yet, if you can,
forgive me and never more in this world will I offend your sight. And,
for expiation, I give my child to you--you who have been so much more
to her than I."

But Aurelie de Roquemaure, bending toward the kneeling man, said:
"Nay. Why say that I forgive--I, who have naught to pardon? Only--do
not go! Stay, rather, and win the love of the child whom you have
loved so much through all your grief, through your long separation."

CONCLUSION.

The Peace of Ryswick brought about many changes in both France and
England. It opened each country to the other--for a time, though but