Madame de Montrevel paused in amazement at sight of those beautiful blue eyes, the lofty brow, and the gracious lips smiling at her. She realized that she ran no danger from such a man, and that no harm could have befallen Edouard. Treating Morgan as a gentleman who had succored her, and not as a bandit who had caused her fainting-fit, she exclaimed: “Ah, sir! how kind you are.” In the words, in the tones in which she uttered them, there lay a world of thanks, not only for herself, but for her child. With singular delicacy, entirely in keeping with his chivalric nature, Morgan, instead of picking up his fallen mask and covering his face immediately, so that Madame de Montrevel could only have retained a fleeting and confused impression of it--Morgan replied to her compliment by a low bow, leaving his features uncovered long enough to produce their impression; then, placing d’Assas’ flask in Madame de Montrevel’s hand--and then only--he replaced his mask. Madame de Montrevel understood the young man’s delicacy. “Ah! sir,” said she, “be sure that, in whatever place or situation I see you again, I shall not recognize you.” “Then, madame,” replied Morgan, “it is for me to thank you and repeat, ‘How kind you are.’” “Come, gentlemen, take your seats!” said the conductor, in his customary tone, as if nothing unusual had happened. “Are you quite restored, madame, or should you like a few minutes more to rest?” asked Morgan. “The diligence shall wait.” “No, that is quite unnecessary; I feel quite well, and am much indebted to you.” Morgan offered Madame de Montrevel his arm, and she leaned upon it to reach the diligence. The conductor had already placed little Edouard inside. When Madame de Montrevel had resumed her seat, Morgan, who had already made his peace with the mother, wished to do so with the son. “Without a grudge, my young hero,” he said, offering his hand. But the boy drew back. “I don’t give my hand to a highway robber,” he replied. Madame de Montrevel gave a start of terror. “You have a charming boy, madame,” said Morgan; “only he has his prejudices.” Then, bowing with the utmost courtesy, he added, “A prosperous voyage, madame,” and closed the door. “Forward!” cried the conductor. The carriage gave a lurch. “Oh! pardon me, sir!” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel; “your flask!” “Keep it, madame,” said Morgan; “although I trust you are sufficiently recovered not to need it.” But Edouard, snatching the flask from his mother’s hands, flung it out of the window, crying: “Mamma doesn’t receive presents from robbers.” “The devil!” murmured Morgan, with the first sigh his Companions had ever heard him give. “I think I am right not to ask for my poor Amélie in marriage.” Then, turning to his Companions, he said: “Well, gentlemen, is it finished?” “Yes,” they answered with one voice. “Then let us mount and be off. Don’t forget we have to be at the Opera at nine o’clock this evening.”