uietly, "to speak to the
marquis."

St. Jean stifled a sob, and said:

"Then it is not worth while to go any farther."

"Why?"

"Because the Marquis of Clameran died at five o'clock this morning."

Valentine leaned against a tree to prevent herself from falling.

"Dead!" she gasped.

"Yes," said St. Jean, fiercely; "yes, dead!"

A faithful servant of the old regime, St. Jean shared all the passions,
weaknesses, friendships, and enmities of his master. He had a horror of
the La Verberies. And now he saw in Valentine the woman who had caused
the death of the marquis whom he had served for forty years, and of
Gaston whom he worshipped.

"I will tell you how he died," said the bitter old man. "Yesterday
evening, when those hounds came and told the marquis that his eldest
son was dead, he who was as hardy as an oak, and could face any danger,
instantly gave way, and dropped as if struck by lightning. I was there.
He wildly beat the air with his hands, and fell without opening his
lips; not one word did he utter. We put him to bed, and M. Louis
galloped into Tarascon for a doctor. But the blow had struck too deeply.
When Dr. Raget arrived he said there was no hope.

"At daybreak, the marquis recovered consciousness enough to ask for M.
Louis, with whom he remained alone for some minutes. The last words he
uttered were, 'Father and son the same day; there will be rejoicing at
La Verberie.'"

Valentine might have soothed the sorrow of the faithful servant, by
telling him Gaston still lived; but she feared it would be indiscreet,
and, unfortunately, said nothing.

"Can I see M. Louis?" she asked after a long silence.

This question seemed to arouse all the anger slumbering in the breast of
poor St. Jean.

"You! You would dare take such a step, Mlle. de la Verberie? What! would
you presume to appear before him after what has happened? I will never
allow it! And you had best, moreover, take my advice, and return home at
once. I will not answer for the tongues of the servants here, when they
see you."

And, without waiting for an answer, he hurried away.

What could Valentine do? Humiliated and miserable, she could only
wearily drag her aching limbs back the way she had so rapidly come early
that morning. On the road, she met many people coming from the town,
where they had heard of the events of the previous night; and the poor
girl was obliged to keep her eyes fastened to the ground in order
to escape the in