“I should be sorry, mademoiselle,” said Bertram Gramont, “to do anything displeasing to Madame Coulancourt. So I will let this lad go about his business, as it matters very little his confirmation of a fact. I am aware he went to guide or bring back a pony, one on which Louis Lebeau left this château. Perhaps, mademoiselle, you could tell me where the said Louis Lebeau went to.” “Really, Monsieur Gramont,” returned Julia demurely, “you seem so very well informed of the movements of all here, that any information from me would be idle.” “Well, then, mademoiselle, I will not trouble you, except with a message to Madame Coulancourt. Will you be so good as to say I shall feel gratified if she will favour me with an interview? I request this as a favour, not as a duty that I have to perform.” “Certainly, Monsieur Gramont,” said Julia; “if you will please to come into the saloon I will inform madame of your request.” “Is your father in the château, mademoiselle?” said Monsieur le Maire, as Julia ushered him into the principal saloon. “No, monsieur; he went early this morning to Havre;” so saying she retired. Monsieur Gramont stood facing the portrait of the late Duke de Coulancourt with a thoughtful and serious expression on his features; he was not at all repenting the injustice he contemplated, far from it; but he was thinking, at the moment, that it was very possible that France might return at no distant time to a monarchical form of government; and if so, would it not be possible to gain the defunct title as well as the estate? Monsieur Gramont was fond of “castle building;” it is very pleasant at times, but, unfortunately, we are apt to be recalled rather suddenly and disagreeably to this dull earth and its sad realities. Monsieur Gramont was startled out of his day dreams by the entrance of Madame Coulancourt. Now that it was come to the point to carry out his intended project, he felt somewhat embarrassed; there was a conscious dignity, a stately and impressive loftiness of character visible in every word and movement of the ex-Duchesse de Coulancourt that had its effect upon him, and after the first formal words had passed and both were seated, it all at once struck the Maire, as he looked into the still beautiful and calm features of Madame Coulancourt, that what he had to say was by no means so easily said as he had imagined. However, it was necessary to make a beginning, so after a little pause of embarrassment on the part of Monsieur Gramont, he said— “A very unpleasant duty, madame, has fallen to my lot to execute.” “Then, monsieur,” said Madame, “the sooner an unpleasant duty is brought to a close the better; therefore pray do not hesitate, for suspense is oftentimes more trying than the reality.”