"That is quite simple, mon petit; at least, I think so," she said, looking down at Anne's upturned visage, rather flushed by the proximity of the fire. "'Monsieur Augustin' is a nom de guerre, and it is the name of one of the Chouan leaders--you know who the Chouans are, who fight for the King in Brittany? So that your M. de la Vireville and 'Monsieur Augustin' must be one and the same person. He is tall and dark, and has a scar on his cheek, has he not, M. le Chevalier?" "Yes," said Anne. "Yes, there is a mark there. Oh, do you know him?" "No," said Mme. de Chaulnes, "but I have heard of him. And your Chevalier will be 'Monsieur Augustin.' Well, that is the answer to your question, and you see it is quite simple. Now, do you not think it is time for you to go to bed, Anne? First, however, I think you should write a little letter to Grandpapa--quite a short letter, to say that you have arrived safely. Do you not think that would please him?" And Anne, assenting, was shortly installed at an escritoire, where, perched upon a chair heightened by a cushion, he slowly and laboriously penned a brief epistle to Mr. Elphinstone. And at the table in the middle of the little hall Mme. de Chaulnes was writing too. CHAPTER V THOMAS THE RHYMER (1) Elspeth was very glum as she put the little boy to bed in the delightful room where there was no place for her. "At ony rate," she remarked, when the operation was concluded, "A'll no leave ye till A please, and gif ane of these madams comes A'll e'en gar her turn me oot." "They are very kind ladies," said Anne-Hilarion, who was excited. "I think Mme. de Chaulnes is a beautiful old lady like a fée marraine--yes, like the Queen of Elfland. Elspeth, say the 'Queen of Elfland'!" he added coaxingly. And, much more because she thought it would enable her to stay longer in her charge's room than to please him, Elspeth embarked on the tale of 'True Thomas,' which she had proffered in vain in London a few nights ago. Her favourite passage was rendered with even more emphasis than usual: "'O see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset wi' thorns and briers? That is the Path of Righteousness, Though after it but few enquires. 'And see ye not yon braid braid road, That lies across the lily leven? That is the Path of Wickedness, Though some call it the Road to Heaven. 'And see ye not yon bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae.'" "This is Elfland, then," put in Anne-Hilarion contentedly. "'But, Thomas, ye sall haud yer tongue Whatever ye may hear or see; For speak ye word in Elflyn-land, Ye'l ne'er win back to your ain countrie.'" She paused a second. "Go on!" commanded Anne-Hilarion. "'Syne they came to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple----'"