[Footnote 21: The name Verdures d'Auvergne was given to the tapestry hangings representing trees, foliage and birds, without figures, and with no definite landscape. They were made, I believe, at Clermont.] XXVI The fair-minded Bois-Doré was making these observations aloud to Adamas, when the mute handed him the sheet upon which he had just been writing. It was a brief narrative of what had taken place at La Motte-Seuilly in the morning, between Lauriane, the Spaniard and himself: how Villareal had hurled the knife again and again to frighten him and interrupt his music, how he had plunged it into the entrails of the wolf, and lastly how he had given it to Madame de Beuvre as a token of submission and penitence before Jovelin's eyes. "Oho! this is becoming serious!" said the marquis, lost in thought, "and I see that this Villareal is a very bad man. However, it may be that none of these weapons were in his possession ten years ago, and that he has received them since by gift or by inheritance. In that case he must have been the assassin's kinsman or friend; there are villains and cowards in the best families. Like yourself, Master Jovelin, I have a bad opinion of our guest; but I am certain that, like me, you still hesitate to condemn him on this evidence." Lucilio nodded assent and advised the marquis to try to make him confess the truth by surprise or by stratagem. "We will deliberate with care thereupon," replied Bois-Doré, "and you will assist us, my dear friend. For the moment, we must go to supper, and since we have no guests, we will give ourselves the pleasure of eating with our little marquis that is to be, who no more belongs in the servants' quarters than you do yourself." "Still, monsieur, if you take my advice," said Adamas, "you will leave things as they are for to-day. Bellinde is a wicked creature and a plague, and to my mind she is on much too friendly terms with the rectory, which is a sink of slanderous remarks against all of us." "Hoity-toity! Adamas, what in God's name is the trouble between you and the rectory?" "The trouble is, monsieur, that I have been consulting a magician too. You had hardly gone away this morning, when a certain La Flèche, the same gypsy, doubtless, whom you saw later in the day at La Motte, came prowling around the château and offered to tell my fortune. I refused; I am too much afraid of prophecies, and I hold that any harm that is destined to happen to us happens twice over when we know it beforehand. I contented myself by asking him who had stolen the key of the wine closet, and he answered without hesitation: "'The one you suspect!' "'Tell me her name,' I replied, knowing well enough that it was Bellinde, but wishing to test the clever rascal's skill.