The toast was drunk heartily, and Dick, letting his eyes rove lazily among the many signs of wealth and luxurious comfort in the room, inwardly contrasted the possible future of the girl whose fate he was to take in charge, with that of her whose destiny was to be in the keeping of the rich and generous Count. "To think that her house should serve the romantic purpose of a runaway love match!" said the Count, with a smile. "It will amuse Collette." Dick turned pale. "Collette!" he echoed. "You said Collette!" "That is the first name of the lady who is to be my wife," explained the Count. "Why does it startle you?" "Oh, because I have heard that name so recently. My own fiancee has a friend of that name,--a schoolmate, at a convent somewhere near Montreuil." "'Tis the very same!" cried the Count, with great pleasure. "To think, Abbe, that we should be of service to one of her friends! That surely will delight her!" "But," faltered Dick, "is it certain? There may be two of that name at the same convent. The one of whom I speak has left it very recently, with her aunt--" "It is she!" said the Count, more and more rejoiced at corroborative details. "She ought to be at this moment at Abbeville or Amiens, on the way to Paris to be married. She will pass this house and look up at it, wishing it were hers, as she has so often done, and never dreaming I am here making it ready for her! Yes, there can be no doubt, it is the same Collette,--Mademoiselle de Sarton!" When Dick was shown to a round chamber in a turret-shaped corner of the chateau that night, he asked for pen, ink, and paper, saying he always wrote his letters late. By the light of a small candelabra, and after much thought and many beginnings, he composed two documents before he went to bed. At earliest dawn he dressed and went down-stairs, told the only servant he found up that he was going for a short walk, and left with the servant the two letters, each to be taken to the chamber of its intended recipient. Then Dick hastened to the auberge where his horses and postilion had passed the night. One letter was to Collette, and read as follows: "MADEMOISELLE: "You are now in your own house, which you have so long wished to possess. Its master, the noblest, kindest, and handsomest gentleman in the world, with boundless will and means to make you happy, is he from whom I, a worthless adventurer with neither possessions nor prospects, would have taken you, in my ignorance and folly. You should thank God for your escape and for giving you a husband such as Monsieur le Comte, whose years have but added to his graces and his merits. I have written him to such effect that he will understand all, and that, when he comes to greet you, nothing will be necessary on your part but for you to give him your hand, and offer your brow for the caress which a princess might be rejoiced and honored to receive."