Whilst indulging these meditations, the tinkling bell of the _houblieur_, or itinerant dealer in wafer cakes, fell upon her ear. She started from the reverie, and, hastening to the door, beheld the slim vender, apron tied round the waist, basket on arm, and bell in hand, seemingly more anxious to attract a customer from the lodging of De Pontis than solicitous to dispose of his cakes to the frequenters of the _Rue St. Denis_. Perceiving the door open, he made no hesitation in entering, although Marguerite had been careful not to expose herself to view. The noise, however, attracted old Marie, bringing her from her retreat in the domestic offices of the domicil. “Holy Virgin!” cried the ancient dame, “there is a man in the hall.” “Yes, _ma bonne mère_!” said the disguised page, “and he has a tongue which will rival the loudest gossip in the _Rue St. Denis_;” and thereupon the youth commenced ringing his bell violently, to the extreme vexation of Marguerite, and the astonishment of the old crone. Alarmed at the noise, and the unexpected apparition in the gloom, the old woman shouted for help. The damsel knew not what to do, or how to explain the matter to her ancient retainer—something must be done to silence both parties, so suddenly seizing the bell, she wrested it from his grasp; then approaching the old woman, she spoke in a loud whisper that the man was not what he appeared to be, that he came on her father’s business by direction of Monsieur Giraud, and that the visit must be kept secret. With these words she quieted and dismissed Marie, and then turning to the youth, said disdainfully, that she was much beholden for his services—that their second meeting was in strict keeping with their first rencontre. “Pardon me, Mademoiselle,” said François, apologizing, “but I am in such good spirits that my joy cannot contain itself.” “Such feelings may agree with the prosperity of the _Palais-Cardinal_,” replied Marguerite, “but you are now in a house of mourning, and it will be so as long as my poor father lies in the _Conciergerie_.” The course Marguerite was embarked on necessitated courage and decision, nor was she deficient. Without fear, or at least without betraying any, she led the youth to the _salle_, or parlor, and requesting him to be seated, said she was afraid that more discretion than he possessed would be requisite to aid her father. Still she was very grateful for the interview with the cardinal, obtained, as she confessed, solely through his directions; also for the clue to the machinations of the Count De Fontrailles. “I have been employed alone both in Germany and in England, young as I appear to be, and on the cardinal’s business,” said the page, in rather a haughty tone, “and his eminence is not the man to employ those in his affairs who lack discretion. Does my present garb indicate want of precaution, or imply foresight? I appeal to Mademoiselle’s candor!”