Here Monsieur Jacques laid his hand on her arm, and checked the imprudent words that trembled on her lips—words that had left the cheek of the page suddenly colorless. “The lady simply means to say that she can accept no bounty from the King or Queen of France,” he interposed with dignity; “therefore your errand is so far accomplished.” The page put away the portfolio in the folds of his tunic, and moved toward the door, but a sudden thought struck him, and he turned back, drawing it forth again. “Madame, this money does not come from their majesties, who are at this moment, for aught I know, ignorant of Dr. Gosner’s death; nor is it a gratuity. In his early life, that learned man did a service to the person who sent me here—a service which has never been repaid, and which, at this time, nothing but money can repay. Hearing of his hard fate, that person was conscience-stricken. A debt so justly due should have been paid to his widow or his heirs; but it was unknown in France that the unfortunate gentleman had either a wife or child. You will not wrong a person who wishes to redeem a neglect that may have caused much trouble by refusing the privilege of restitution.” “But what was the nature of this debt? In what way was it created?” demanded Madame Gosner. “Without danger to the person in question I cannot explain,” answered the page; “but of this be assured, it is justly due, and this money will never be used for any other purpose. Indeed, a portion of it is invested in your name beyond recall. The rest I will not carry from this room—it is my orders.” The page waited for no answer, but laid the portfolio on a table, and went swiftly out of the room, leaving its inmates gazing on each other in blank amazement. “Follow that man Monsieur Jacques,” exclaimed madame; “I will receive none of his money. Who has dared to force a charity on me in this way?” Monsieur Jacques took the portfolio and hurried with it down stairs. He reached the door just in time to see the page spring upon his horse, and flung the portfolio at the animal’s feet. The page dismounted, took up the portfolio, and rode away with a dejected air. Monsieur Jacques entered Madame Gosner’s room again. “Have you done right to reject this money?” he said. “Perhaps his story is true. With all his knowledge and power, it would be strange if your husband might not have performed some act which would entitle him to a sum like this.” “But I will not take it! Who in all France, save the royal pair at Versailles, knew that my husband was supposed to have died so lately? No one but the governor of the Bastille; and he is not likely to have appeased his conscience in this way.” “But even from the king it might have been accepted in behalf of France! It would help to feed many a famished mouth.”