d a shutter with a jemmy, broken a pane of glass,
turned the window-fastener, and made his way into the long gallery.
There he broke open several cupboards and possessed himself of whatever
took his fancy. His booty consisted for the most part of small but
valuable articles, such as gold caskets, a few ivory carvings of the
fourteenth century, two splendid fifteenth-century manuscripts, and a
volume which the Countess's secretary briefly described as "a
morocco-bound book with a coat of arms on it," and which was none other
than the _Lucretius_ from the d'Esparvieu library.

The malefactor, who was supposed to be an English cook, was never
discovered. But, two months or so after the theft, a well-dressed,
clean-shaven young man passed down the rue de Courcelles, in the
dimness of twilight, and went to offer the Prior de Vendome's
_Lucretius_ to Pere Guinardon. The antiquary gave him four shillings for
it, examined it carefully, recognised its interest and its beauty, and
put it in the king-wood cabinet, where he kept his special treasures.

Such were the vicissitudes which, in the course of a single season,
befel this thing of beauty.

CHAPTER XXV

WHEREIN MAURICE FINDS HIS ANGEL AGAIN

The performance was over. Bouchotte in her dressing-room was taking off
her make-up, when the door opened softly and old Monsieur Sandraque, her
protector, came in, followed by a troop of her other admirers. Without
so much as turning her head, she asked them what they meant by coming
and staring at her like a pack of imbeciles, and whether they thought
they were in a tent at the Neuilly Fair, looking at the freak woman.

"Now, then, ladies and gentlemen," she rattled on derisively, "just put
a penny in the box for the young lady's marriage-portion, and she'll let
you feel her legs,--all made of marble!"

Then, with an angry glance at the admiring throng, she exclaimed: "Come,
off you go! Look alive!"

She sent them all packing, her sweetheart Theophile among them,--the
pale-faced, long-haired, gentle, melancholy, short-sighted, and dreamy
Theophile.

But recognizing her little Maurice, she gave him a smile. He approached
her, and leaning over the back of the chair on which she was seated,
congratulated her on her playing and singing, duly performing a kiss at
the end of every compliment. She did not let him escape thus, and with
reiterated enquiries, pressing solicitations, feigned incredulity,
obliged him to rep