"Of course not, _mon camarade_, we never meant you to do so," replied Monjoy. "Boisguiller cannot accompany you, as he returns to Helingenstadt to-morrow; but I shall do so with pleasure, at least a few leagues of the way, for to-morrow at noon, I have to lay before the Duc de Broglie plans of the castles of Marburg and Dillenburg, with the intended approaches and lines of circumvallation." I was thanking this frank friend in suitable terms, when a gold locket became disengaged from the ribbon by which it was suspended at his neck, and fell at my feet. When handing it across the table to him, I could perceive that it contained the miniature of a girl, young, lovely, and fairhaired. "_Morbleu!_ Gervais Monjoy," exclaimed Boisguiller; "is it thus, my fine fellow, that you treasure the image of Madame d'Escombas?" "Madame! is this girl, a child almost, married?" said I, perhaps imprudently. "Hush, gentlemen--hush, for God's sake and for hers--upon your honour, hush!" said Monjoy, in a husky voice, as he replaced the locket in his breast, and his cheek grew very pale. "I know your sad story, and hers too," said the chevalier in a whisper; "but are you wise to carry this trinket about with you?" "'Tis all of her that evil fate has left me!" sighed Monjoy, filling his glass with wine. "But--but suppose you were killed in action, and this portrait was found upon you?" "Well?" "Would it not compromise the honour of madame?" "With none who knew our wretched history," replied Monjoy, in a broken voice, and with a tremulous manner; "but let us return to the affair of our friend." "The Duc de Broglie knows not all the _on dits_ of Paris and Versailles," said the chevalier, with an air of annoyance. "The old man thinks only of brigades and squadrons, of advances and retreats, and of pontoon-bridges on the Rhine and Weser; but--a word in your ear, M. Gauntlet: if he knew all that was reported, you might perhaps have not fared quite so well in Ysembourg to-day." "I do not comprehend," said I, coldly, perhaps haughtily. "Well, _mon ami_, it was reported in the Chroniques Scandaleuses at Versailles and Paris, that the young countess, then Mademoiselle de Broglie, had a lover disguised as her _soubrette_, and that the fellow actually carried her off. Thus you see how rumour wove you and the outlaw Hautois into one." "Rumour might have added, that it was revenue for Bourgneuf's abduction of the sister Hautois of and the demolition of his mother's cottage that made this man the wretch we found him," said I, bitterly "But oh! Boisguiller," I added, suddenly and passionately, as the fumes of the wine mounted to my head; "you know the truth and the falsehood of this affair; you must know that I loved Jacqueline purely and honourably, that I loved her to despair, and how I sorrowed for her supposed death!"