lently well," he replied unhesitatingly. "I was in Paris at the
time of the scandal with Bardelys."

I looked up quickly.

"Was it then that you met her?" I inquired in an idle sort of way.

"Yes. I was in the confidence of Bardelys, and one night after we
had supped at his hotel--one of those suppers graced by every wit in
Paris--he asked me if I were minded to accompany him to the Louvre. We
went. A masque was in progress."

"Ah," said I, after the manner of one who suddenly takes in the entire
situation; "and it was at this masque that you met the Duchesse?"

"You have guessed it. Ah, monsieur, if I were to tell you of the things
that I witnessed that night, they would amaze you," said he, with a
great air and a casual glance at Mademoiselle to see into what depth of
wonder these glimpses into his wicked past were plunging her.

"I doubt it not," said I, thinking that if his imagination were as
fertile in that connection as it had been in mine he was likely, indeed,
to have some amazing things to tell. "But do I understand you to say
that that was the time of the scandal you have touched upon?"

"The scandal burst three days after that masque. It came as a surprise
to most people. As for me--from what Bardelys had told me--I expected
nothing less."

"Pardon, Chevalier, but how old do you happen to be?"

"A curious question that," said he, knitting his brows.

"Perhaps. But will you not answer it?"

"I am twenty-one," said he. "What of it?"

"You are twenty, mon cousin," Roxalanne corrected him.

He looked at her a second with an injured air.

"Why, true--twenty! That is so," he acquiesced; and again, "what of it?"
he demanded.

"What of it, monsieur?" I echoed. "Will you forgive me if I express
amazement at your precocity, and congratulate you upon it?"

His brows went if possible closer together and his face grew very red.
He knew that somewhere a pitfall awaited him, yet hardly where.

"I do not understand you."

"Bethink you, Chevalier. Ten years have flown since this scandal you
refer to. So that at the time of your supping with Bardelys and the wits
of Paris, at the time of his making a confidant of you and carrying you
off to a masque at the Louvre, at the time of his presenting you to the
Duchesse de Bourgogne, you were just ten years of age. I never had cause
to think over-well of Bardelys, but had you not told me yourself, I
should have hesitated to believe him so vile a despoiler of inn