"Leave it to me, and Canolles shall have the order to-night or to-morrow morning. I will answer for it." "Whom will you send?" "Do you need Courtauvaux?" "Not in the least." "Give him to me, then, and I will send him with my instructions." "Oh! what a head for a diplomatist! you have a future before you, Nanon." "May I remain forever under so good a master! that is the height of my ambition," said Nanon, throwing her arm around the old duke's neck, whereat he trembled with delight. "What a delightful joke to play upon our Celadon!" said she. "It will be a charming story to tell, my love." "Upon my word! I should like to go in chase of him myself, to see how he'll receive the messenger." "Unhappily, or rather happily, that is out of the question, and you must needs remain with me." "True; but let us lose no time. Write your order, duke, and place Courtauvaux at my disposal." The duke took a pen and wrote upon a bit of paper these two words:-- "Bordeaux.--No," and signed his name. He then enclosed this laconic despatch in an envelope, on which he wrote the following address:-- "_To her Majesty, Queen Anne of Austria, Regent of France._" Nanon meanwhile wrote a few lines, which she placed with the other, after showing them to the duke:-- MY DEAR BARON,--The accompanying despatch is for her Majesty the queen, as you see. On your life, carry it to her instantly; the welfare of the kingdom is at stake! Your loving sister, NANON. Nanon had hardly finished the letter, when they heard hurried footsteps at the foot of the stairs, and Courtauvaux ran up quickly and opened the door, with the expansive expression of a bearer of news which he knows to be awaited with impatience. "Here is Monsieur de Canolles, whom I met within a hundred yards of the house," he said. The duke uttered an exclamation of good-humored surprise. Nanon turned pale, and darted to the door, muttering,-- "It is written that I shall not escape the meeting." At that moment a new personage appeared in the doorway, arrayed in a magnificent costume, holding his hat in his hand, and with a most gracious smile upon his lips. IX. A thunder-bolt falling at Nanon's feet would certainly have caused her no greater surprise than this unexpected apparition, and would not, in all probability, have extorted from her a more sorrowful exclamation than that which escaped from her mouth involuntarily. "He?" she cried. "To be sure, my dear little sister," replied a most affable voice. "But I beg your pardon," added the owner of the voice, as he espied the Duc d'Épernon; "perhaps I intrude." He bowed to the ground to the governor of Guyenne, who replied with a gracious gesture. "Cauvignac!" muttered Nanon, but so low that the name was pronounced by her heart rather than by her lips.