"Madame ..."

Her agitation had measurably subsided. The gentle inclination of the
aged head which acknowledged his courtesy was as eloquent of her
quality as he found the name which she gave him in quavering accents.

"Madame de Sévénié, monsieur."

"With madame's permission: I am André Duchemin."

"Monsieur Duchemin has placed us all deeply in his debt. Louise ..."
The girl in the carriage looked up and bowed, murmuring. "Mademoiselle
de Montalais, monsieur: my granddaughter. And Eve ..." She turned to
the third, to her whose voice of delightful accent was not in
Duchemin's notion wholly French: "Madame de Montalais, my daughter by
adoption, widow of my grandson, who died gloriously for his country at
La Fère-Champenoise."




IV

EVE


When she had graciously permitted Duchemin to assist her to a place in
the carriage, Madame Sévénié turned immediately to comfort her
granddaughter. It was easy to divine an attachment there, between
d'Aubrac and Louise de Montalais; Duchemin fancied (and, as it turned