m not sure. I
should not be surprise'. But Monsieur le Marquis, her father, he trit me
ver' bad. Monsieur le Marquis is guillotine' now, I mus' not spik evil
of him, but he marry her to one ol' garcon, Le Vicomte d'Ivry-le-Tour."

"So Mademoiselle is married," I said after a pause.

"Oui, she is Madame la Vicomtesse now; I fall at her feet jus' the sem.
I hear of her once at Bel Oeil, the chateau of Monsieur le Prince
de Ligne in Flander'. After that they go I know not where. They are
exile',--los' to me." He sighed, and held out the miniature to me.
"Monsieur, I esk you favor. Will you be as kin' and keep it for me
again?"

I have wondered many times since why I did not refuse. Suffice it to say
that I took it. And Auguste's face lighted up.

"I am a thousan' times gret'ful," he cried; and added, as though with
an afterthought, "Monsieur, would you be so kin' as to borrow me fif'
dollars?"

CHAPTER IV. OF A SUDDEN RESOLUTION

It was nearly morning when I fell asleep in my chair, from sheer
exhaustion, for the day before had been a hard one, even for me. I awoke
with a start, and sat for some minutes trying to collect my scattered
senses. The sun streamed in at my open door, the birds hopped on the
lawn, and the various sounds of the bustling life of the little town
came to me from beyond. Suddenly, with a glimmering of the mad events of
the night, I stood up, walked uncertainly into the back room, and stared
at the bed.

It was empty. I went back into the outer room; my eye wandered from the
shattered whiskey bottle, which was still on the floor, to the table
littered with Mrs. Temple's letters. And there, in the midst of them,
lay a note addressed with my name in a big, unformed hand. I opened it
mechanically.

"Dear Davy,"--so it ran,--"I have gone away, I cannot tell you where.
Some day I will come back and you will forgive me. God bless you!
NICK."

He had gone away! To New Orleans? I had long ceased trying to account
for Nick's actions, but the more I reflected, the more incredible it
seemed to me that he should have gone there, of all places. And yet I
had had it from Clark's own lips (indiscreet enough now!) that Nick and
St. Gre were to prepare the way for an insurrection there. My thoughts
ran on to other possibilities; would he see his mother? But he had no
reason to know that Mrs. Temple was still in New Orleans. Then my glance
fell on her letters, lying open on the