ehind her scarlet lips. "Marcus, bid Benoit
bring wine. Monsieur de Garnache will no doubt be thirsting after his
ride."

Garnache said nothing. Acknowledge the courtesy he would not; refuse it
he could not. So he sat, and waited for her to speak, his eyes upon the
fire.

Madame had already set herself a course. Keener witted than her son, she
had readily understood, upon Garnache's being announced to her, that his
visit meant the failure of the imposture by which she had sought to be
rid of him.

"I think, monsieur," she said presently, watching him from under her
lids, "that we have, all of us who are concerned in Mademoiselle de
La Vauvraye's affairs, been at cross-purposes. She is an impetuous,
impulsive child, and it happened that some little time ago we had
words--such things will happen in the most united families. Whilst the
heat of her foolish anger was upon her, she wrote a letter to the
Queen, in which she desired to be removed from my tutelage. Since then,
monsieur, she has come to repent her of it. You, who no doubt understand
a woman's mind--"

"Set out upon no such presumption, madame," he interrupted. "I know as
little of a woman's mind as any man who thinks he knows a deal--and that
is nothing."

She laughed as at an excellent jest, and Marius, overhearing Garnache's
retort as he was returning to resume his seat, joined in her laugh.

"Paris is a fine whetstone for a man's wits," said he.

Garnache shrugged his shoulders.

"I take it, madame, that you wish me to understand that Mademoiselle
de La Vauvraye, repenting of her letter, desires no longer to repair to
Paris; desires, in fact, to remain here at Condillac in your excellent
care."

"You apprehend the position exactly, monsieur."

"To my mind," said he, "it presents few features difficult of
apprehension."

Marius's eyes flashed his mother a look of relief; but the Marquise, who
had an ear more finely trained, caught the vibration of a second meaning
in the emissary's words.

"All being as you say, madame," he continued, "will you tell me why,
instead of some message to this purport, you sent Monsieur de Tressan
back to me with a girl taken from some kitchen or barnyard, whom it was
sought to pass off upon me as Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye?"

The Marquise laughed, and her son, who had shown signs of perturbation,
taking his cue from her, laughed too.

"It was a jest, monsieur"--she told him, miserably conscious that the
explana