"I was forbidden the house; I begged and prayed in vain, nothing could move the fair devotee, and I grew ill from grief. Well, last week, her cousin, Madame d'Arville, who is yours also, sent word to me that she should like to see me, and when I called, she told me on what conditions I might obtain my pardon, and here they are. I must bring her a relic, a real, authentic relic, certified to be such by Our Holy Father, the Pope, of some virgin and martyr, and I am going mad from embarrassment and anxiety. "I will go to Rome, if needful, but I cannot call on the Pope unexpectedly, and tell him my stupid adventure; and, besides, I doubt whether they let private individuals have relics. Could not you give me an introduction to some cardinal, or only to some French prelate, who possesses some remains of a female saint? Or perhaps you may have the precious object she wants in your collection? "Help me out of my difficulty, my dear Abbe, and I promise you that I will be converted ten years sooner than I otherwise should be! "Madame d'Arville, who takes the matter seriously, said to me the other day: "'Poor Gilberte will never marry.' "My dear old schoolfellow, will you allow your cousin to die the victim of a stupid piece of business on my part? Pray prevent her from being the eleventh thousand and one virgin. "Pardon me, I am unworthy, but I embrace you, and love you with all my heart. "Your old friend, "Henri Fontal." THE MAN WITH THE BLUE EYES Monsieur Pierre Agenor de Vargnes, the Examining Magistrate, was the exact opposite of a practical joker. He was dignity, staidness, correctness personified. As a sedate man, he was quite incapable of being guilty, even in his dreams, of anything resembling a practical joke, however remotely. I know nobody to whom he could be compared, unless it be the present president of the French Republic. I think it is useless to carry the analogy any further, and having said thus much, it will be easily understood that a cold shiver passed through me when Monsieur Pierre Agenor de Vargnes did me the honor of sending a lady to wait on me. At about eight o'clock, one morning last winter, as he was leaving the house to go to the _Palais de Justice_, his footman handed him a card, on which was printed: DOCTOR JAMES FERDINAND, _Member of the Academy of Medicine, Port-au-Prince, Chevalier of the Legion of Honor._ At the bottom of the card, there was written in pencil: _From Lady Frogere_