I was spared the necessity of answering. I had my face to the door of the house, and as the last word was spoken saw André issue from it with M. de St. Alais. The manner in which the old servant cried, "M. le Marquis de St. Alais, to see M. le Vicomte!" gave us a little shock, it was so full of sly triumph; but nothing on M. de St. Alais' part, as he approached, betrayed that he noticed this. He advanced with an air perfectly gay, and saluted me with good humour. For a moment I fancied that he did not know what had happened in the night; his first words, however, dispelled the idea. "M. le Vicomte," he said, addressing me with both ease and grace, "we are for ever grateful to you. I was abroad on business last night, and could do nothing; and my brother must, I am told, have come too late, even if, with so small a force, he could effect anything. I saw Mademoiselle as I passed through the house, and she gave me some particulars." "She has left her room?" I cried in surprise. The other three had drawn back a little, so that we enjoyed a kind of privacy. "Yes," he answered, smiling slightly at my tone. "And I can assure you, M. le Vicomte, has spoken as highly of you as a maiden dare. For the rest, my mother will convey the thanks of the family to you more fitly than I can. Still, I may hope that you are none the worse." I muttered that I was not; but I hardly knew what I said. St. Alais' demeanour was so different from that which I had anticipated, his easy calmness and gaiety were so unlike the rage and heat which seemed natural in one who had just heard of the destruction of his house and the murder of his steward, that I was completely nonplussed. He appeared to be dressed with his usual care and distinction, though I was bound to suppose that he had been up all night; and, though the outrages at St. Alais and Marignac's had given the lie to his most confident predictions, he betrayed no sign of vexation. All this dazzled and confused me; yet I must say something. I muttered a hope that Mademoiselle was not greatly shaken by her experiences. "I think not," he said. "We St. Alais are not made of sugar. And after a night's rest--- But I fear that I am interrupting you?" And for the first time he let his eyes rest on my companions. "It is to Father Benôit and to Buton here, that your thanks are really due, M. le Marquis," I said. "For without their aid----" "That is so, is it?" he said coldly. "I had heard it." "But not all?" I exclaimed.