"Enter, enter, messieurs," replied the marquis, ever a slave to the laws of chivalrous hospitality. "Come in out of the rain. You may tell your names, if you please, when you have rested." The horsemen rode in; there was two or three of them, and one, who seemed to be in authority over the others, acted as if he would dismount. Bois-Doré prevented him, as the pavement was very wet. He walked ahead with Adamas, who carried the torch, and returned to the courtyard, followed by his guest, without noticing an escort of twenty armed men, who, having crossed the drawbridge one by one, entered the courtyard after their master, while he was ascending the stairs with his host. This large escort surprised Aristandre, who, as his functions included that of receiving the servants of visitors and opening the stables, came forward to offer his services. But they refused to unsaddle, and remained with their horses, some around a fire which was lighted in the courtyard, others at the very threshold of the château. When the marquis entered the salon with the stranger, he saw a man of some thirty years of age, of medium stature and poorly dressed. His face was almost entirely shaded by the flapping brim of his hat and the wet plumes that fell about it on all sides. Little by little he made out the face, but did not recognize it, or, at all events, could not remember where he had seen it. "You do not seem to remember me?" said the stranger. "To be sure, it is a very long time since we met, and we have both changed greatly." The marquis artlessly put his hand to his forehead, apologizing for his failure of memory. "I will not amuse myself by making you cudgel your brains," rejoined the traveller. "My name is Lenet. I was little more than a boy when I saw you in Paris at the Marquise de Rambouillet's, and it may very well be that you paid no attention to such an unimportant personage as I then was. Even now I am only a councillor, awaiting something better." "You deserve to be all that you desire," replied Bois-Doré, graciously.--"But, deuce take me," he said to himself, "if I remember the name of Lenet, or if I know to whom I am talking, although his manner recalls a thousand vague ideas." "Order nothing for me," rejoined Monsieur Lenet, when he saw that the marquis was issuing orders for his supper. "I go on to another château, where I am expected. I have been delayed by the wretched roads, and I beg to excuse my calling upon you at this hour. But I am entrusted with a delicate commission for you, which I must execute." Lauriane and Mario, who were in the boudoir, rose when they heard that business was to be discussed, and passed through the salon to retire. "Are those your children, Monsieur de Bois-Doré!" said the traveller, returning the courtesy which they made him as they passed. "Neither of them," replied the marquis, "and yet I am a father. This is my nephew, who is my son by adoption."