with a smile. "Let us be off, my lords and gentlemen."
In a quarter of an hour, all remaining of the whirling cavalcade was the carriage left in the avenue and the guardsman whose horse was cropping the dandelions.
"Where is the magician?" inquired Taverney.
"Gone, too, my lord."
"I never heard of the like—leaving all that valuable plate."
"He left a note which Gilbert is fretting to deliver."
"Father," said Andrea, "I know what is tormenting you. You know I have thirty gold pieces, and the diamond-set watch Queen Maria Leczinska gave my mother."
"That is well," said the baron, "but keep it, though we must hunt up means for a handsome robe for your court presentation. Hush! here is Labrie."
"The note, my lord, which was given Gilbert by the strange gentleman."
The baron snatched it from the servant and read in an undertone:
"My Lord: Since an august hand touched this service of plate under your roof, it belongs to your lordship, and I pray you to keep it as a memento, and sometimes to remember, your grateful guest, Balsamo."
"Labrie, is there a good goldsmith at Bar-le-Duc?"
"Yes, my lord, the one who mended our young lady's jewelry."
"Put aside the cup the princess used, and pack up the rest of the plate in our carriage. And then, haste to the cellar and serve that officer with all the liquor left. Come, come, Andrea, courage! We are going to court, a splendid place where the sun never fails. You are naturally lovely and have only to set the gem becomingly to outshine them all."
Nicole followed Andrea to her room.
"I am off to arrange my titles of nobility and proofs of service," continued the baron, trotting to his room briskly. "We shall be off from this den in an hour; do you hear, Andrea? And we leave by the golden gates, too. What a trump that magician is! Really, I have become as superstitious as the devil's own. But make haste, Labrie!" he cried to his man groping about in the cellar.
"I can't get on faster, master—we have not a candle left."
"It is plain that we are getting out in the right time," thought the baron.
Chapter XIII.
Nicole's Dower.
Nicole aided her young mistress in her traveling preparations with ardor which speedily dissipated the cloud risen that morning between maid and mistress. The latter smiled as she found that she would have no need to scold her.
"She is a good, devoted girl and grateful," she mused; "only she has weaknesses, like all womankind. Let us forget."
On her part, Nicole was not the girl not to watch her mistress' face, and she saw the kindliness increasing.
"I was a fool nearly to get into a scrape with her for that rascal Gilbert, when she is going to town, where everybody makes a fortune."
"Put my lace in my box. Stop! I gave you that box, I remember; and you will want it, as you are going to set up housekeeping."
"Oh, my lady," said Nicole, reddening, and replying merrily, "my wedding garments will be easily kept in no great space."
"How so? I want you to be well off when you wed."
"Have you found me a rich match?"
"No, but a dower of twenty-five gold pieces."
"You would give me such a treasure!" Emotion followed her surprise, and tears gushed into her eyes as she kissed Andrea's hand.
Nicole began to think that Gilbert had rejected her from fear of poverty, and that now she had funds, she had better marry the ambitious spark to whom she would appear more desirable. But a germ of pride mingled with the generosity, as she wanted to humble one who had jilted her.
"It looks as though you really loved your Gilbert," observed the lady. "How incredible for something in the lad to please you. I must have a look at this lady-killer next time I see him."
Nicole eyed her with lingering doubt. Was this deep hypocrisy or perfect ignorance?
"Is Gilbert coming to Paris with us?" she inquired, to be settled on the point.
"What for? he is not a domestic and is not fitted for a Parisian establishment. The loungers about Taverney are like the birds which can pick up a living on their own ground; but in Paris a hanger-on would cost too much, and we cannot tolerate that. If you marry him, you must stay here. I give you an hour to decide between my household or your husband's. I detest these connubial details and will not have a married servant. In any case, here is the money; marry, and have it as dower; follow me, and it is your first two years' wages, in advance."
Nicole took the purse from her hand and kissed it.
The lady watched her go away and muttered: "She is happy, for she loves."
Nicole in five minutes was at the window of Gilbert's room, at the back of which he was turning over his things.
"I have come to tell you that my mistress wants me to go with her to Paris."
"Good!" said the young man.
"Unless I get married and settled here."
"Are you thinking still of that?" he asked, without any feeling.
"Particularly, since I am rich from my lady dowering me," and she showed the bright gold.
"A pretty sum," he said drily.
"That is not all. My lord is going to be rich. He will rebuild the castle, and the house will have to be guarded——"
"By the happy mate of Nicole," suggested Gilbert with irony, not sufficiently wrapped up not to wound the girl, though she contained herself. "I refuse the offer, for I am not going to bury myself here when Paris is open to me also. Paris is my stage, do you understand?"
"And mine, and I understand you. You may not regret me; but you will fear me, and blush to see to what you drive me. I longed to be an honest woman, but, when I was leaning over the verge, you repulsed me instead of pulling me back. I am slipping and I shall fall, and heaven will ask you to account for the loss. Farewell, Gilbert!"
The proud girl spun round without anger now, or impatience, having exhausted all her generosity of soul.
Gilbert quietly closed the window and resumed the mysterious business which Nicole's coming had interrupted.
She returned to her mistress with a deliberate air.
"I shall not marry," she said.
"But your great love?"
"It is not worth
