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The Regent's Daughter
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"I am all attention."
"Did your master travel under his own name?"
"He set out in his own name, but changed it on the journey."
"What name did he take?"
"M. de Livry."
Dubois added ten louis, but as they would not stand on the others, he commenced a second pile.
Owen uttered a joyful cry.
"Oh," said Dubois, "do not exult yet. We are not near the end. Is there a M. de Livry at Nantes?"
"No, monseigneur; but there is a Demoiselle de Livry."
"Who is she?"
"The wife of M. de Montlouis, an intimate friend of my master."
"Good," said Dubois, adding ten louis; "and what was your master doing at Nantes?"
"What most young men do; he hunted, danced, and so on."
Dubois took away ten louis. Owen shuddered.
"Stop," said he, "he did something else."
"Ah! what was that?"
"I do not know," replied Owen.
Dubois held the ten louis in his hand.
"And since his departure, what has he done?"
"He passed through Oudon, Ancenis, Le Mans, Nogent, and Chartres."
Dubois stretched out his hand, and took up another ten louis.
Owen uttered a dolorous cry.
"And did he make no acquaintance on the route?"
"Yes; with a young lady from the Augustine convent at Clisson, who was traveling with a sister of the convent, named Therese."
"And what was the young lady called?"
"Mademoiselle Helene de Chaverny."
"Helene! A promising name. Doubtless, she is your master's mistress?"
"I do not know," said Owen; "he would not have told me."
"He is a shrewd fellow," said Dubois, taking ten louis from the fifty.
Owen trembled: four such answers, and he would have betrayed his master for nothing.
"And these ladies are going to Paris with him?"
"No, monseigneur; they stop at Rambouillet."
"Ah," said Dubois.
The tone of this exclamation gave Owen some hope.
"Come," said Dubois, "all this is not very important, but one must encourage beginners."
And he added ten louis to the pile.
"Sister Therese," continued Owen, "is already gone home."
"So that the young lady remains alone?"
"No," answered Owen.
"How so?"
"A lady from Paris awaited her."
"From Paris?"
"Yes."
"Do you know her name?"
"I heard Sister Therese call her Madame Desroches."
"Madame Desroches!" cried Dubois, and he began another pile with ten louis.
"Yes," replied Owen, delighted.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I am; she is a tall, thin, yellow-looking woman."
Dubois added ten louis. Owen thought that if he had made an interval between each adjective he might have had twenty louis.
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