Gonzague was startled by this sudden hostility to his scheme, but spoke with respectful earnestness: "Madame," he said, slowly, "we have depositions, sworn to and duly attested in Madrid, that this girl, then a year-old child, was given to a band of gypsies by a man whose description coincides exactly with that of one of the men believed to have been concerned in the attack upon Louis de Nevers in the moat of Caylus. We have their statements that in their hearing the man called the child Gabrielle, that he said to the head gypsy that she was of noble birth, and that he gave her up to them because he wished the child to suffer for the hate he bore her father. All this and more than this we can prove. For my part, I say that in this girl's lineaments I seem to see again the features of my dear dead friend. Madame, to reject the child whom we believe to be the daughter of Nevers, you must have reasons grave indeed--the strongest proofs. Have you such reasons, such proofs?" From behind the curtain a voice travelled to the princess's ears, murmuring, "Yes," and the princess repeated, "Yes," confidently. Gonzague drew himself up with a look of pain and sorrow. "I understand, madame. Some impostor, speculating upon your sorrow, has told you that he has found your child." Chavernay whispered behind his hand to Navailles: "Our cousin is losing his temper." As the princess kept silent, Gonzague pressed his question: "Is that not so, madame? Speak! Is this not so? Some one has told you that she is alive?" The princess heard the voice behind the curtain whisper: "She lives." Looking steadily at Gonzague, she said: "She lives, in spite of you, by the grace of God." The agitation of the audience was very great. The king directly addressed the princess: "Can you produce her?" Again the voice whispered to the Princess, "Yes," and again the Princess repeated, "Yes," as confidently as before. "When?" asked the king, to whom Gonzague had at once yielded the privilege of question. The voice whispered, "To-night," and the princess repeated the words. The voice whispered again, "At the ball in the Palais Royal," and again the Princess echoed it, "At the ball in the Palais Royal." The king had no more to say; he was silent. Gonzague groaned aloud as he turned to Flora. "My poor child, only God can give you back the heart of your mother." The girl, with the quick impulsiveness of her race, again flung herself on her knees before the princess, while she cried: "Madame, whether you are my mother or not, I respect you, I love you!" The princess laid her hand gently on the girl's dark hair. "My child, my child, I believe you are no accomplice of this crime. I wish you well."