"Monsieur will pardon my intrusion," he said politely; "he may rest assured that the secret made over to him shall henceforward remain inviolate in my breast." When old Pierre returned to his daughter his face betrayed that he was in the best of spirits. He entered the room laughing and swearing round oaths. "_Âme de mon Épée!_" he exclaimed; "I think we shall have no more visits from this suitor. The devil! He would have carried Louise from under our noses if we and she had been fools enough to let him. Thanks be to Heaven that Louise--if ever for a moment she wavered, as you seem to suppose--quickly recovered her balance. It was your example, Marie, fool that you made of yourself!" Marie laughed. "You will sing a different song, my father," she said, "when you have a houseful of little grandsons to educate in the art of the sword. What did you tell the Baron?" "The old tale--the same which we have told others, that Louise died long since. She 'ceased to exist,' that was my expression. _Sapristi_, it is the truth! Louise ceased to exist when Michel Prevost came into existence--is it not so? Ha! so it is!" CHAPTER XXVI. Henri d'Estreville sat at his midday meal at the restaurant specially frequented by the officers of his regiment. He wore the aspect of one who is more than ordinarily depressed. He was pale and distrait and neglected the food which had been placed before him. Several acquaintances entered the room and saluted him as they passed, but he took no notice of them. "What ails D'Estreville?" men asked one another. "Is it cards or a woman?" Among others there entered presently Michel Prevost, who was known to very few, having but lately qualified for the right to sit at meals with the class of men mostly frequenting this eating-house and others of its kind. Michel looked round and saw Henri d'Estreville. His face flushed and then paled. He sat down on the nearest seat to gather breath and strength. Michel had almost despaired of his friend since the terrible day at Vilna, when the remnant of Ney's division, tattered and war-worn, had marched into the town like men returning from the grave; when he had looked and inquired for Henri among the rest and found him not. Even when he had heard it said, this very morning, that the Baron had reappeared, he had scarcely dared to believe it. For five minutes he sat still, not daring to move or speak. At last he rose from his seat, and advancing from behind came up and touched the Baron's shoulder.