in on the edge of a clearing, and
behind it stretched away in prim rows the vegetables which the old
Frenchman had planted. There was a little flower garden, too, and an
orchard. A path of beaten earth led to the door, which was open. There
we paused. Seated at a rude table was Lamarque himself, his hoary head
bent over the cards he held in his hand. Opposite him was Mr. Nicholas
Temple, in the act of playing the ace of spades. I think that it was the
laughter of Madame la Vicomtesse that first disturbed them, and even then
she had time to turn to me.

"I like your cousin," she whispered.

"Is that you, St. Gre?" said Nick. "I wish to the devil you would learn
not to sneak. You frighten me. Where the deuce did you go to?"

But Lamarque had seen the lady, stared at her wildly for a moment, and
rose, dropping his cards on the floor. He bowed humbly, not without
trepidation.

"Madame la Vicomtesse!" he said.

By this time Nick had risen, and he, too, was staring at her. How he
managed to appear so well dressed was a puzzle to me.

"Madame," he said, bowing, "I beg your pardon. I thought you were
that--I beg your pardon."

"I understand your feelings, sir," answered the Vicomtesse as she
courtesied.

"Egad," said Nick, and looked at her again. "Egad, I'll be hanged if
it's not--"

It was the first time I had seen the Vicomtesse in confusion. And indeed
if it were confusion she recovered instantly.

"You will probably be hanged, sir, if you do not mend your company," she
said. "Do you not think so, Mr. Ritchie?"

"Davy!" he cried. And catching sight of me in the doorway, over her
shoulder, "Has he followed me here too?" Running past the Vicomtesse, he
seized me in his impulsive way and searched my face. "So you have
followed me here, old faithful! Madame," he added, turning to the
Vicomtesse, "there is some excuse for my getting into trouble."

"What excuse, Monsieur?" she asked. She was smiling, yet looking at us
with shining eyes.

"The pleasure of having Mr. Ritchie get me out," he answered. "He has
never failed me."

"You are far from being out of this," I said. "If the Baron de
Carondelet does not hang you or put you in the Morro, you will not have
me to thank. It will be Madame la Vicomtesse d'Ivry-le-Tour."

"Madame la Vicomtesse!" exclaimed Nick, puzzled.

"May I present to you, Madame, Mr. Nicholas Temple?" I asked.

Nick bowed, and she courtesied again.

"So Monsieur le Baron is really after