"What brings you here at
such an hour?"

"Alas, alas! my dear young master," replied the old man, "then it is
you indeed; I had hardly dared to hope for such good fortune. But
there is not a moment to be lost."

"What do you mean?" answered Isidore, hastily. "What brings you here?"

"I thought I saw you in the garden as I stood at my window, almost
despairing of ever seeing you again. Ah, there may yet be a chance of
saving you, for you are in such danger that I shudder to think of
it--you whom I have dandled on my knee--you who were always so brave
and so good, and so considerate to me, and were always fighting any
young malapert who laughed at old Perigord."

Isidore could not help feeling his heart yearn towards the old _chef_,
who, indeed, had got him out of many a boyish scrape, and allayed the
pain of many a whipping with tarts, preserves, and other delicacies.

"Yes, you used to stand my friend often enough, Monsieur Perigord,"
said Isidore, as the old days came vividly back to his memory, "though
I am afraid your well-meant sympathy will not help me much just now.
But what do you know of my troubles and my danger?"

"I know all--everything--partly from what I have picked up in various
quarters, for you may easily suppose that what goes on in the salon is
talked about in the kitchen, but principally from that villain, that
traitor, Jasmin, who for once let his tongue run on last night, and
told enough to make it certain that something terrible is impending
over you, and not only over you, but also over that sweet young lady,
Mademoiselle Marguerite. Yes, my dear young master," continued the old
man, as Isidore gave a slight start, and regarded him with manifest
anxiety, "yes, I know how matters stand between you, and that there is
a plot hatching against you, in which--monsieur will excuse me if I say
it plainly--madame the baroness is the chief actor, and in which she
has bribed that rascal to assist her and to betray you."

Isidore gazed at him half incredulous, and yet after what he had
learned at Paris, what could be more likely, considering Madame de
Valricour's conduct, and the check she had received in her most
cherished plans?

"And Jasmin too! Where is the scoundrel?" said Isidore, impetuously.
"Is he here?"

"My good master, do not waste time on him. I tell you frankly that I
fear madame is contemplating a _lettre de cachet_, it may be for
mademoiselle only, but I do not believe that e