"I _will_ be so fortunate as to find it again--I will, I will in spite of everything," replied the Lady Clotilde excitedly. "Pray calm yourself, Cousin Clotilde," said Le Glorieux, who was lounging in the window seat. "Try to collect yourself, else I am afraid you will go into a fit. The veins in your forehead are as big as my smallest finger, and you are quite purple in the face." "Anything that we can do to recover your jewel for you shall be done most gladly, Madame," said the countess. "I will send servants to your apartments to search for it." "There have been too many of your servants in my apartments already," retorted the other rudely. "I want no searching there; I want the culprit searched and brought to justice as quickly as possible." "Most assuredly, if we can discover who the culprit is." "I know who it is," cried the Lady Clotilde. "It is that pale creature who came yesterday afternoon with my mulled wine, a girl with big dark eyes." "Oh, that was Cimburga; she would not rob you of your gems, Madame. She is an orphan whose parents and grandparents died in our service. She can be thoroughly trusted. Without counting it, I should not be afraid to leave a lapful of gold in her care." "Your confidence does but little honor to your judgment, Madame," said the injured one, "and what I have lost is of far more consequence than a lapful of gold." Le Glorieux left his place in the window and came forward, saying, "You seem to be in a terrible state of mind, Cousin Clotilde; I have not seen you in such agitation since the news came to Burgundy of the battle of Nancy. What is the gewgaw which you seem to have valued as life itself?" "It was the moonstone pendant. You know what it means to me to lose it." "What, the carved lady who winks her eyes while you look at her?" The Lady Clotilde nodded. "This is indeed serious," remarked the jester. "If you but knew, Madame Countess, of the awful things written down to happen to the last possessor of that stone, you would be chilled to the bone. Why, death by slow strangulation would be a pleasure to some of the tortures she will suffer if she does not find it again." "Some, in fact most, of those old traditions are mere myths," said the countess reassuringly. "You do not consider them myths when they are connected with your girdle," returned Lady Clotilde tartly. "At any rate the article must be found if possible," said the countess. "Are you very sure, Madame, that you had it when you came here?" "Of course I am sure that I had it when I came here! Since we left Amboise no one has touched my valuables save myself." "If you are sure of that, then, no one is to blame for having mislaid it save yourself," said the jester. "It has not been mislaid; it has been stolen," cried the Lady Clotilde in the highest key of indignation. "I heard that black-eyed girl take it." "You mean Cimburga?" asked the countess. "If that is what you call her, yes."