"Then you must be a very poor eater. Come, obey; if not, as I am only here to serve you, I shall go." "Mademoiselle," said Michel, stretching out both his hands, in one of which was a fork, in the other a piece of bread,--"mademoiselle, you cannot be so cruel. Oh! if you only knew how sad and dismal I have been here for the last two hours in this utter solitude--" "You were hungry; that explains it," said Mary, laughing. "No, no, no; that was not it! I could see you from here, going and coming with all those officers." "That was your own fault. Instead of taking refuge like an owl in this old turret, you ought to have come into the salon and gone with us to the dining-room and eaten your supper sitting, like a Christian, on a proper chair. You would have heard my father and General Dermoncourt relating adventures to make your flesh creep, and you would have seen the old weasel Loriot--as my father calls him--eating his supper, which was scarcely less alarming." "Good God!" cried Michel. "What?" asked Mary, surprised by the sudden exclamation. "Maître Loriot, of Machecoul?" "Maître Loriot, of Machecoul," repeated Mary. "My mother's notary?" "Ah, yes, that's true; so he is!" said Mary. "Is he here?" asked Michel. "Yes, of course he is here; and what do you think he came for?" continued Mary, laughing. "What?" "To look for you." "For me?" "Exactly; sent by the baroness." "But, mademoiselle," cried Michel, much alarmed, "I don't wish to go back to La Logerie." "Why not?" "Because,--well, because they lock me up, they detain me; they want to keep me at a distance from--from my friends." "Nonsense! La Logerie is not so very far from Souday." "No; but Paris is far from Souday, and the baroness wants to take me to Paris. Did you tell that notary I was here?" "No, indeed." "Oh! I thank you, mademoiselle." "You need not thank me, for I did not know it myself." "But now that you do know it--" Michel hesitated. "Well, what?" "You must not tell him, Mademoiselle Mary," said Michel, ashamed of his weakness. "Upon my word, Monsieur Michel," replied Mary, "you must allow me to say one thing." "Say it, mademoiselle; say it!" "Well, it seems to me if I were a man Maître Loriot should not disturb me under any circumstances." Michel seemed to gather all his strength in order to take a resolution. "You are right," he said; "and I will go and tell him that I will not return to La Logerie." At this moment they were startled by loud cries from the cook, calling to Rosine. "Good heavens!" they both cried, one as frightened as the other. "Do you hear that, mademoiselle?" said Rosine. "Yes." "They want me." "Oh!" said Mary, rising, and all ready to flee away, "can they know we are here?" "Suppose they do," said Rosine; "what does it matter?" "Nothing," said Mary; "but--" "Listen!" exclaimed Rosine. They were silent, and the cook was heard to go away. Presently her voice was heard in the garden.