“A humble one. But I am not to come to Gemosac just now. I am going, instead, with Monsieur Dormer Colville, to stay at Royan with Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence. It is, I hope, a pleasure deferred. I cannot, it appears, show myself in Bordeaux at present, and I quit the ship to-night. It is some question of myself and my heritage in France, which I do not understand.” “Is that so?” said Marie. “One can hardly believe it.” “What do you mean?” “Oh, nothing,” replied Marie, looking at his face with a close scrutiny, as if it were familiar to her. “And that is all that I had to tell you, Madame Marie,” concluded Barebone. And, strangely enough, Marie smiled at him as he turned away, not unkindly. “To you, mademoiselle,” he went on, turning again to Juliette, whose hand was at her hair, for she had been taken by surprise, “my message is simpler. Monsieur, your father, will be glad to have your society at Bordeaux, while he stays there, if that is true which the Gironde pilot told him--of fever at Saintes, and the hurried dispersal of the schools.” “It is true enough, monsieur,” answered Juliette, in her low-pitched voice of the south, and with a light of anticipation in her eye; for it was dull enough at Gemosac, all alone in this empty chateau. “But how am I to reach Bordeaux?” “Your father did not specify the route or method. He seemed to leave that to you, mademoiselle. He seemed to have an entire faith in your judgment, and that is why I was so surprised when I saw you. I thought--well, I figured to myself that you were older, you understand.” He broke off with a laugh and a deprecatory gesture of the hand, as if he had more in his mind but did not want to put it into words. His meaning was clear enough in his eyes, but Juliette was fresh from a convent-school, where they seek earnestly to teach a woman not to be a woman. “One may be young, and still have understanding, monsieur,” she said, with the composed little smile on her demure lips, which must only have been the composure of complete innocence: almost a monopoly of children, though some women move through life without losing it. “Yes,” answered Loo, looking into her eyes. “So it appears. So, how will you go to Bordeaux? How does one go from Gemosac to Bordeaux?” “By carriage to Mortagne, where a boat is always to be obtained. It is a short journey, if the tide is favourable,” broke in Marie, who was practical before she was polite. “Then,” said Loo, as quick as thought, “drive back with me now to Mortagne. I have left my horse in the town, my boat at the pier at Mortagne. It is an hour's drive. In an hour and a half you will be on board 'The Last Hope,' at anchor in the river. There is accommodation on board for both you and Madame; for I, alas! leave the ship to-night with Monsieur Colville, and thus vacate two cabins.”