Mademoiselle was a head shorter than her BELLE-SOEUR--a slender
woman and petite, with a beautiful face and a fair complexion; a
woman wholly womanly. She walked with dignity, but beside
Madame's stately figure she had an air almost childish. And it
was characteristic of the two that Mademoiselle as they drew near
to me regarded me with sorrowful attention, Madame with a grave
smile.

I bowed low. They returned the salute. 'This is my sister,'
Madame de Cocheforet said, with a very slight air of
condescension, 'Will you please to tell me your name, Monsieur?'

'I am M. de Barthe, a gentleman of Normandy,' I said, taking on
impulse the name of my mother. My own, by a possibility, might
be known.

Madame's face wore a puzzled look. 'I do not know that name, I
think,' she said thoughtfully. Doubtless she was going over in
her mind all the names with which conspiracy had made her
familiar.

That is my misfortune, Madame,' I said humbly.

'Nevertheless I am going to scold you,' she rejoined, still
eyeing me with some keenness. 'I am glad to see that you are
none the worse for your adventure--but others may be. And you
should have borne that in mind, sir.'

'I do not think that I hurt the man seriously,' I stammered.