"I have nothing to betray, my Lord," replied De Blenau with a smile. "We have met on the road to St. Amand. We have not been five minutes in each other's company. Your Highness has told me nothing, whatever I may have suspected; therefore you may rest perfectly secure that I have nothing to betray, even if they put me to the torture to-morrow. But as I think that for your Highness's sake, we had better be as little together as possible, I will humbly take my leave." So saying, De Blenau bowed low, and turned his horse towards Moulins, the Duke of Orleans preparing to take the other road; but suddenly the latter stopped, and turning his head, asked if De Blenau had gained any news of Mademoiselle de Beaumont. "I am not aware of what your Highness alludes to," replied De Blenau, quickly reining in his horse, and returning to the side of the Duke. "What, then you have not heard--When had you letters from St. Germain?" "Heard what? In the name of God, speak, my Lord!" cried De Blenau: "Do not keep me in suspense." "Nay, Monsieur de Blenau, I know but little," answered the Duke. "All my news came yesterday in a letter from St. Germain, whereby I find that Mademoiselle de Beaumont has disappeared; and as no one knows whither she is gone, and no cause is apparent for her voluntary absence, it is conjectured that Richelieu, finding, as it is whispered, that she endeavoured to convey intelligence to you in the Bastille, has caused her to be arrested and confined _au secret_." "But when did she disappear?--Who saw her last?--Have no traces been discovered?--Why do they not apply to the King?" exclaimed De Blenau, with a degree of agitation that afforded amusement, rather than excited sympathy in the frivolous mind of the Duke of Orleans. "Really, Monsieur de Blenau, to none of all your questions can I at all reply," answered Gaston. "Very possibly, the lady may have gone off with some fair lover, in which case she will have taken care to leave no traces of her flight.--What think you of the weather?--will it rain to-day?"