illage of vagabonds in winter, and I am glad
Alice did not come. Poor Tanrade--how he would have enjoyed that
northeast gale!

* * * * *

Two weeks later there came to my house abandoned by the marsh such
joyful news that my hand trembled as I realized it--news that made my
heart beat quicker from sudden surprise and delight. As I read and
reread four closely written pages from Tanrade and a corroborative
postscript from Alice, leaving no doubt as to the truth.

"Suzette! Suzette!" I called. "Come quick--_Eh! Suzette!_"

I heard her trim feet running to me from the garden. The next instant
she opened the door of my den and stood before me, her blue eyes and
pretty mouth both open in wonder at being so hurriedly summoned.

"What is the matter, monsieur?" she exclaimed panting, her fresh young
cheeks all the rosier from her run.

"Monsieur Tanrade and Madame de Breville are going to be married," I
announced as calmly as I could.

"_Helas!_" gasped Suzette.

"_Et voila--et voila!_" I cried, throwing the letter back on the table,
while I squared my back to the blazing fire of my den and waited for the
little maid's astonishment to subside.

Suzette did not speak.

"It is true, nevertheless," I added with enthusiasm, "they are to be
married in Pont du Sable. We shall have a fete such as there never was.
Ah! you will have plenty of cooking to do, _mon enfant_. Run and find
Monsieur le Cure--he must know at once."

Suzette did not move--without a word she buried her face in her apron
and burst into tears:

"Oh, monsieur!" she sobbed. "Oh, monsieur! It is
true--that--I--I--have--no luck!"

I looked at her in astonishment.

"_Eh, bien!_ my child," I returned--"and it is thus you take such happy
news?"

"_Ah, mon Dieu!_" sobbed the little maid--"it is--true--I--have no
luck."

"What is the matter Suzette--tell me?" I pleaded. Never had I seen her
so brokenhearted, even on the day she smashed the mirror.

I saw her sway toward me like the child she was.

"There--there--_mais voyons!_" I exclaimed in a vain effort to stop her
tears--"_mais voyons!_ Come, you must not cry like that." Little by
little she ceased crying, until her sobbing gave way to brave little
hiccoughs, then, at length, she opened her eyes.

"Suzette," I whispered--the thought flashing through my mind, "is it
possible that _you_ love Monsieur Tanrade?"

I saw her strong little body tremble: "No, monsieur,"