This _oh!_ was uttered with such an eloquent intonation, it contained such a world of veiled reproach, of offended modesty, of charming delicacy, that Canolles stopped short, and darted a piercing glance at the young man, who was leaning on the window-sill. Despite the darkness, he felt the full force of the glance, and continued in a playful tone,-- "Of course, you're quite right, baron; go by all means, but conceal yourself carefully, so that you may not be surprised." "No, I was wrong," said Canolles, "and you are right. But how can I warn her?" "It seems to me that a letter--" "Who will carry it?" "I thought that I saw a servant following you. A servant, under such circumstances, runs the risk of nothing worse than a few blows, while a gentleman risks his life." "Verily I am losing my wits," said Canolles; "Castorin will do the errand to perfection, especially as I suspect that the rascal has allies in the house." "You see that the matter can all be arranged here," said the viscount. "Yes. Have you writing materials?" "No; but they have them downstairs." "Pardon me, I beg you," said Canolles; "upon my word, I can't imagine what has happened to me this evening, for I say one idiotic thing after another. No matter. Thanks for your good advice, viscount, and I shall act upon it immediately." Without taking his eyes from the young man, whom he had been examining for some moments with strange persistency, Canolles backed to the door and descended the stairs, while the viscount muttered anxiously,-- "How he stares at me! can he have recognized me?" Canolles meanwhile had gone down to the ground-floor, and having gazed for a moment with profound sorrow at the quail, partridge, and sweetmeats, which Master Biscarros was himself packing in the hamper upon the head of his assistant cook, and which another than he was to eat perhaps, although they were certainly intended for him, he asked to be shown to his room, called for writing materials, and wrote to Nanon the following letter:--