"It is my rascally valet, Riquet," he said. "He's always thrusting himself where he has no business." "I wonder you retain him in your service," said the pastor; "I have marked him in your father's time, and have heard you both say that he is a knave." "And yet he loves me," said the young Count; "and I do in truth believe would sooner injure himself than me." The old man shook his head with an expression of doubt; but the Count went on: "However, I did not wish him to know that I came here to-night, and still less should wish him to be acquainted with the nature of my errand. He is a Papist, you know, and may suspect, perhaps, that we are holding a secret council with others. We had better, therefore, give him admittance at once." There was a small silver bell stood on the table beside the pastor; and, as the maid did not come in, he rang it, inquired who it was that had arrived when she did make her appearance, and then ordered the valet to be admitted. "What brought you here, Maître Jerome?" demanded the young Count, somewhat sternly, as the valet entered on his tiptoes, with a look of supreme self-satisfaction. "Why, my lord," replied the man, "scarcely had you set out when there arrived a courier from the Duc de Rouvré, bringing you a packet. He was asked to leave it, as you were absent; but he said it was of vast importance, and that he was to get your answer from your own mouth: so he would give it to nobody. I took him into what used to be called the page's room, and made him drink deep of château Thierry, picked his pocket of the packet while he was looking out of the window, and seeing that he was tired to death, commended him to his bed, with a night cap of good liquor, promising to wake him as soon as you returned, and then set off with the packet to seek you, Monsieur le Comte." "And pray what was the object of all this trickery?" demanded the Count. "If you be not careful, Maître Jerome, you will place your neck in a cord some day." "So my mother used to say," replied the man, with cool effrontery; "but I only wished to serve your lordship, and knowing that there were difficult matters in hand, thought you might like to read the packet first, in order to be prepared to give a ready answer. We could easily seal up the letter again, and slip it into the courier's jerkin--which the poor fool put under his head when he went to sleep, thinking to secure the packet that was already gone. He would then present it to you in due form, and you give your answer without any apparent forethought." The Count could not refrain from turning a smiling look upon the pastor, who, however, bent down his eyes and shook his head with a disapproving sigh.