Martial made no response. He felt that his altered voice would betray
him. How much more would he have been moved, if he had been allowed to
read the concluding lines:


"One must live, my dear Blanche!" added Marie-Anne, "and I feel no false
shame in asking you to aid me. I sew very nicely, as you know, and I
could earn my livelihood by embroidery if I knew more people. I will
call to-day at Courtornieu to ask you to give me a list of ladies to
whom I can present myself on your recommendation."


But Mlle. de Courtornieu had taken good care not to allude to the
touching request. She had read the letter to Martial as a test. She
had not succeeded; so much the worse. She rose and accepted his arm to
return to the house.

She seemed to have forgotten her friend, and she was chatting gayly.
When they approached the chateau, she was interrupted by a sound of
voices raised to the highest pitch.

It was the address to the King which was agitating the council convened
in M. de Courtornieu's cabinet.

Mlle. Blanche paused.

"I am trespassing upon your kindness, Monsieur. I am boring you with my
silly chat when you should undoubtedly be up there."