"It sounded like 'Gabrielle'; I am not sure."


"They say that Monsieur le Marquis was a most handsome youth," Anne
remarked, when the men had disappeared round an angle.

"Then it is possible the son will make a handsome old man," was
madame's flippant rejoinder.

"Supposing, after all, you had married him?" suggested Anne, with a bit
of malice; for somehow the Chevalier's face appealed to her admiration.

"Heaven evidently had some pity for me, for that would have been a
catastrophe, indeed." Madame did not employ warm tones, and the lids
of her eyes narrowed. "Wedded to a fop, whose only thought was of
himself? That would have been even worse than Monsieur le Comte, who
was, with all his faults, a man of great courage."

"I have never heard that the Chevalier was a coward," warmly. "In
fact, in Rochelle he had the reputation of being one of the most daring
soldiers in France. And a coward would never have done what he did for
Monsieur de Saumaise."

"Good Heaven! let us talk of something else," cried madame. "The
Chevalier, the Chevalier! He has no part in my life, nor I in his; nor
will he have. I do not at present hate him, but if you keep trumpeting
his name into my ears I shall." Madame was growing visibly angry. "I
will leave you, Anne, with the Mother Superior's letters. I do not
want company; I want to be alone. I shall return before the noon meal."