rere Borromee."

"Monsieur Briquet," said little Jacques, "one ought not to speak ill of
the dead."

"No; but confess one thing."

"What?"

"That Borromee did not make such good use of his sword as the man who
killed him."--"True."

"And now that is all I had to say to you. Good-night, Jacques; we shall
meet again soon, and if you like--"

"What, Monsieur Briquet?"

"Why, I will give you lessons in fencing for the future."

"Oh! I shall be most thankful."

"And now off with you, my boy, for they are waiting for you impatiently
at the priory."

"True, true. Thank you, Monsieur Briquet, for having reminded me of it."

And the little monk disappeared, running as fast as he could.

Chicot had a reason for dismissing his companion. He had extracted from
him all he wished to know, and, on the other hand, there still remained
something further for him to learn. He returned, therefore, as fast as
he could to his own house. The litter, the bearers, and the horse were
still at the door of the "Brave Chevalier."

He regained his gutter without making a noise.

The house opposite to his own was still lighted up, and from that
moment all his attention was directed toward it.

In the first place, he observed, by a rent in the curtain, Ernanton
walking up and down, apparently waiting with great impatience.

He then saw the litter return, saw Mayneville leave, and, lastly, he saw
the duchess enter the room in which Ernanton, palpitating, and throbbing
rather than breathing, impatiently awaited her return.

Ernanton kneeled before the duchess, who gave him her white hand to
kiss. She then raised the young man from the ground, and made him sit
down before her at a table which was most elegantly served.

"This is very singular," said Chicot; "It began like a conspiracy, and
finishes by a rendezvous.

"Yes," continued Chicot, "but who appointed this rendezvous?

"Madame de Montpensier."

And then, as a fresh light flashed through his brain, he murmured, "I
entirely approve of your plan with regard to the Forty-five; only allow
me to say, dear sister, that you will be conferring a greater honor on
those fellows than they deserve."

"Ventre de biche!" exclaimed Chicot, "I return to my original idea,--it
is not a love affair, but a conspiracy.

"Madame la Duchesse de Montpensier is in love with Monsieur Ernanton de
Carmainges; let us watch over this love affair of Madame la Duchesse."

And Chicot watched until m