‘Never, though Margot, who does not scruple to push curiosity to impertinence, asked the direct question of the old servant next door. She was repulsed with severity. “I have told you there is a secret,” said the woman, “and it is one that can in no manner concern you. Madame” (meaning Félicie) “is an angel of goodness. And do you think Mademoiselle Hortense would allow the English gentleman to come here if all was not right; she who is so correct in her conduct, and goes to mass every day?” Even Margot was obliged to be satisfied with this. Well, sir, the Englishman went away. I saw Félicie drive home in a _voiture de remise_; she had been to the station to see him off. Great Heaven, I never beheld so sad a face! “Alas, poor child,” I said to myself, “all the physicians in Paris will never cure you, for you are dying of sorrow!” And I was not far wrong, sir. The poor girl died in less than a month from that day, and was buried on the hill yonder, by the chapel of our Lady of Bons Secours.’ ‘And her elder sister?’ ‘Mademoiselle Hortense? She died two years ago, and lies yonder on the hill with the rest of them.’ ‘But one sister remains, you say?’ ‘Yes, there is still Mademoiselle Julie. She went to Paris, to a situation in a _magasin des modes_, I believe. She was always clever with her needle.’ ‘And you think you can procure me her present address in Paris?’ ‘I believe I can, and without much difficulty. The house next door belongs to Mademoiselle Dumarques. The present tenants must know her address.’ ‘I shall be beyond measure obliged again if you will obtain it for me.’ ‘If you will be kind enough to call again this evening, I will make the inquiry in the mean time.’ ‘I thank you, sir, heartily. You have already given me some valuable information, which may assist a most amiable young lady to regain her proper place in the world.’ The disciple of Jean Jacques declared himself enraptured at the idea that he had served a fellow creature. ‘There is one point, however, that I might ascertain before I leave Rouen,’ said Lucius, ‘and that is the name of Félicie’s husband. You say he stayed at the same hotel at which Félicie had seen the English lady. Which hotel was it?’ ‘The Britannique.’ ‘And can you give me the date of Félicie’s interview with the lady?’ The watchmaker shrugged his shoulders. ‘I cannot say. The years in our quiet life are so much alike. Félicie was away about six years.’ ‘And I have a letter written by her after her return—dated. That will give me an approximate date at any rate. I’ll try the Hôtel Britannique.’