The door opened, and Du Buisson entered. "God be blessed! At last you are back, Du Buisson! Well, what news do you bring?" "Bad news, my dear Marion. Bad news from everywhere!" "Good God! Then Monsieur Nominoë Lebrenn, the poor young man--?" "He must have fared like so many others. I found it impossible to discover any traces of either him or his father. Whether he is dead or alive, I can not tell." "Oh, my poor Bertha! My poor Bertha! How much is she to be pitied!" "Fortunately mademoiselle is a brave woman. Moreover, she entertained but slight hopes of my succeeding in the mission that she charged me with. I did my best. How is mademoiselle's health?" "Excellent, my dear Du Buisson!" "Heaven be praised!" "Every day mademoiselle takes a long walk along the seashore in the direction of the stones of Karnak. She seems to have taken a liking for the spot. When she returns home she takes up the manuscript of Colonel Plouernel, and starts to read. Especially in the evening, she remains for hours at a stretch in a revery, contemplating the sky. She looks sad every time the stars are veiled by the clouds." "She must have been impatient to see me back?" "Yes. As far as I could judge from a few words that she dropped to me, she is awaiting your return to take some kind of action. What it may be I do not know." "Perhaps she contemplates leaving France for a while, and traveling abroad." "I do believe she is thinking of a voyage. More than once did mademoiselle say to me we were here only transiently." "At any rate, the important point is that she is much less melancholy, and her health is good--not so?" "Yes, her sadness seems to have vanished, and her health is excellent. And yet, Du Buisson, I often feel greatly alarmed about mademoiselle; it seems to me some misfortune is approaching--sad thoughts assail me day and night." "What can be the cause of these presentiments of evil?" "I hardly dare tell you. You would take me for a fool--you would laugh at me, I fear." "Nothing that concerns our young mademoiselle can cause me to indulge in levity, Marion. Speak out, I pray you." "Well, shortly after your departure, my poor Bertha, who was barely over her fever, still seemed quite sad. One day mademoiselle was speaking to me with her usual kindness of heart about my family in Vannes, and she asked me whether none of my relatives needed any financial assistance. I answered her that my brother, a small trader, found in his business enough to meet the personal wants of himself, his wife and children; and, in the hope of amusing mademoiselle, I added that my brother and I expected from one moment to another a windfall of incalculable value. Mademoiselle very soberly asked me what I meant. I answered that one of our cousins, an old man almost dotish, was, as so many others have been doing of late years, _blowing_ in order to find the 'powder of projection'--"[7]