ted visit of Mere Malheur set aside
all further hesitation about disobeying the Intendant's orders not
to inquire or allow any other person to make inquisition respecting
Caroline.

"Mere Malheur, you feel comfortable now!" said she. "That glass of
cognac has given you a color like a peony!"

"Yes, I am very comfortable now, dame! your cognac is heavenly: it warms
without burning. That glass is the best news I have to tell of to-day!"

"Nay, but there is always something stirring in the city; somebody born,
married, or dead; somebody courted, won, lost, or undone; somebody's
name up, somebody's reputation down! Tell me all you know, Mere Malheur!
and then I will tell you something that will make you glad you came to
Beaumanoir to-day. Take another sip of cognac and begin!"

"Ay, dame, that is indeed a temptation!" She took two deep sips, and
holding her glass in her hand, began with loose tongue to relate the
current gossip of the city, which was already known to Dame Tremblay;
but an ill-natured version of it from the lips of her visitor seemed
to give it a fresh seasoning and a relish which it had not previously
possessed.

"Now, Mere Malheur! I have a secret to tell you," said Dame Tremblay, in
a low, confidential tone, "a dead secret, mind you, which you had better
be burnt than reveal. There is a lady, a real lady if I ever saw one,
living in the Chateau here in the greatest privacy. I and the Intendant
only see her. She is beautiful and full of sorrow as the picture of
the blessed Madonna. What she is, I may guess; but who she is, I cannot
conjecture, and would give my little finger to know!"

"Tut, dame!" replied Mere Malheur, with a touch of confidence, "I will
not believe any woman could keep a secret from you! But this is news,
indeed, you tell me! A lady in concealment here, and you say you cannot
find her out, Dame Tremblay!"

"In truth, I cannot; I have tried every artifice, but she passes all my
wit and skill. If she were a man, I would have drawn her very teeth out
with less difficulty than I have tried to extract the name of this lady.
When I was the Charming Josephine of Lake Beauport, I could wind men
like a thread around which finger I liked; but this is a tangled knot
which drives me to despair to unravel it."

"What do you know about her, dame? Tell me all you suspect!" said Mere
Malheur.

"Truly," replied the dame, without the least asperity, "I suspect the
poor thing, like the rest of u