Leaning back in his carved chair, with the crown on the top, the Prince de Bouillon digested this information. La Vireville thought that his face had a little fallen on learning that the proposed expedition was no secret to his visitor. Although he liked him in spite of them, the Chouan was well aware of Captain d'Auvergne's weaknesses, and he let his gaze stray up to the framed pedigree on the wall behind the Prince's head that showed where, in the mists of the thirteenth century, that branch had burgeoned on the ancient stem of La Tour d'Auvergne which was to blossom, during the eighteenth, in the present scion. From that it wandered out of the window, whence he could see the blue expanse of Gorey Bay. He wondered whether the _Pomone_ had weighed yet. . . . Confound this beating in his head! His Serene Highness suddenly bent forward and laid a hand on his arm. "La Vireville, I am afraid you are unwell! It _is_ your head, then; what have you done to it?" "I beg your pardon," exclaimed the émigré, removing the hand with which he had unconsciously covered his eyes. "The fact is that I have a damnable headache--a relic of the wild-goose chase, nothing more. It will be gone to-morrow, Monseigneur." "Then to-morrow, my dear fellow, will serve us to discuss matters. I was sure," said the good-natured Prince, "that there was something under that bandage, and that you have not had it attended to since you landed. No, I thought not. Will you take a glass of wine? . . . Well, go home to Madame de la Vireville, make her my compliments, and tell her that I am sending my surgeon to see you at once." But as La Vireville left Gorey he wondered whether it were not rather a touch of heartache than of headache that he had. (5) The smile which Mme. de la Vireville gave the Prince's surgeon when, after examination of her son's hurt, he ordered him at least three days' complete rest, must have gone to his head, for, being a young man and a jocular, he remarked to his patient as he left, "You have a trifle on the breast of your coat, Monsieur--an involuntary token at parting, I take it--which you may like to know of. . . . I hope I have not been indiscreet!" La Vireville, who, in obedience to orders, was then lying at full length on the little sofa, stared at the speaker rather haughtily and made no answer. But when the door had shut he said, "Look at my coat for me, little mother, and let us see what that farceur meant." Mme. de la Vireville, who had the sight of a girl, bent over him, and after a second pointed to where, round a button, were tangled two long bright brown hairs. Her son frowned, then he smiled. "Take them off, my little heart, and keep them for me. I may as well have some souvenir of my 'nephew,' since it is likely to be long enough before I see him again."