"A young French lady, one of our friends," replied Suzanne.

"But her name! What is her name?"

"Madame Carpentier."

The name meant nothing to her. She sighed, and asked us to sing on.... At
dinner we met again my father and the count. After dinner the countess
sent for me to come to her chamber while she was nursing her babe. After a
few unimportant words she said:

"You have had your lessons from a good musician."

"Yes, madame, our friend plays beautifully on the harp."

"On the harp! And you say her name is--"

"Madame Joseph Carpentier."

"It is strange," said Madame de la Houssaye. "The words of your duet are
by me, and the music by my friend the Viscomptesse Alix de Morainville.
All manner of things have happened in this terrible Revolution; I had for
a moment the hope that she had found chance to emigrate and that you had
met her. Do you know M. Carpentier?"

"Yes, madame; he was with her. He is--in fact--a laboring gardener."

"Oh! then there is no hope. I had the thought of a second marriage, but
Alix de Morainville could never stoop so low. Poor, dear, innocent little
Alix! She must be dead--at the hand of butchers, as her father and her