‘I have come to inform you, my lord bishop, that Monsieur will be with you on Thursday next, if that will suit your convenience. I received a despatch from him to-day, and, amongst other matters, was a notice to that effect, and a request that the announcement should be made to you immediately.’ ‘We shall be proud to receive him, and everything shall be in readiness,’ said the bishop. ‘The weather is exceedingly fine,’ observed the Marquis, turning courteously towards Mademoiselle Baptistine. ‘It is charming,’ answered the bishop’s sister, nervously. Mademoiselle Baptistine was a lady of forty-five, with an aquiline nose, of which, as an aristocratic feature, she and her brother were proud. Her complexion was fair, her eyes very pale, and starting from her head, so that she had always, except when asleep, the appearance of being greatly surprised at something. ‘It is also hot; Mademoiselle doubtless finds it hot,’ said the Marquis. ‘Very much so. I have been quite overcome.’ ‘But it is seasonable,’ observed the visitor. And so on. Presently, however, the conversation brightened up a little; for the Marquis, turning sharply on the bishop, said: ‘By the way, I met a member of your family the other day.’ A scarlet flush covered the bishop’s face, and Mademoiselle Baptistine turned the colour of chalk. ‘I met the old Countess de Narbonne in Paris; she is doubtless a cousin. I told her I was acquainted with your lordship, but she did not seem to know you; probably her memory fails.’ ‘The De Narbonne and the De Narbonne-Lara families, though remotely connected, are not the same,’ answered the bishop, wiping his hot face; ‘the branches separated in the reign of Saint Louis, and therefore the connection between them is distant. Mine crossed the Pyrenees and settled in Spain, where they fought valiantly against the Moors. The castle of Lara is in Andalusia; the family assumed the territorial name of Lara, in addition to the De Narbonne, on their receiving the Spanish estates from a grateful monarch in recognition of their services. My grandfather, unfortunately, gambled half the property away, and my father sold the rest to pay off the debts his father had contracted; an honourable proceeding, which reduced the family, however, greatly. With the remains of his fortune he came to France, retaining possession only of the ancestral castle in Spain.’ Suddenly Mademoiselle Baptistine uttered a scream. From under the sofa darted the retriever with a huge pasty in its mouth. In its efforts to secure the dainty morsel, it flung the lid of the box from which it had extracted the pie, half way across the room. ‘What is the dog at?’ exclaimed the bishop. ‘Rascal!’ shouted the Marquis, ‘bring that here instantly.’ He threatened the brute with his stick, and the dog crawled to him with the pasty in its mouth.