"There are three of us in this house," continued the armorer; "my cousin Jean and my sister Babette as well as myself. You have executed your commission so far as I am concerned; but have you no other for Babette or Jean?" Jean Peuquoy the weaver entered the shop just in time to hear Gabriel's messenger reply,-- "I have nothing to say to anybody but you, Master Pierre Peuquoy, and to you I have said all that I was commanded to say." "Very well! You see, brother," said Pierre, turning to Jean, "Monsieur le Vicomte d'Exmès is grateful to us; he returns our money with all due promptitude. Monsieur le Vicomte d'Exmès sends this message to us, 'Remember!' but he himself does not remember!" "Alas!" sighed a weak, piteous voice behind the curtain. It was poor Babette, who had heard all. "One moment," rejoined Jean, who persisted in hoping against hope. "My friend," he continued, addressing the messenger, "if you are of Monsieur d'Exmès's household, you must know one of his retainers and your fellow-servant named Martin-Guerre?" "Martin-Guerre? Yes, to be sure, Martin-Guerre, the squire. Yes, I know him, Master." "Is he still in Monsieur d'Exmès's service?" "He is." "Did he know that you were coming to Calais?" "He did know it," the man replied. "He was present, I remember, when I left Monsieur d'Exmès's house. He accompanied me with his--with our master as far as the city-gate, and saw me well on my way." "And did he give you no message for me, or for any one in this house?" "Nothing at all, I tell you again." "Now don't lose your patience, Pierre," continued Jean. "My friend, perhaps Martin-Guerre enjoined upon you to deliver your message privately? But you may as well understand that all precautions are of no avail. We know the truth now. The suffering of--the person to whom Martin-Guerre owes reparation has opened our eyes to everything; so you may speak freely before us. And yet if you still have some doubts upon this point, we will withdraw; and the person to whom I alluded, and whom Martin-Guerre indicated to you, will come and talk with you privately at once." "By my faith!" said the messenger, "I swear to you that I don't understand one word of all your talk." "That is enough, and you may as well be content, Jean," cried Pierre Peuquoy, whose eyes were inflamed with anger. "By the memory of my father, Jean! I cannot conceive what pleasure you can take in dwelling upon the insult which has been put upon us." Jean sadly bowed his head without speaking, for there was only too much reason in what his cousin said. "Will you be kind enough to count this money?" asked the messenger, who was rather ill at ease in the part he was playing. "It is not worth the trouble," said Jean, who was more composed, though no less depressed than Pierre. "Take this for yourself, my friend. I will bring you food and drink as well."