“He says we have lost something.”
“Eh! monsieur,” cried the unknown, again, “you left a bracelet in the hotel at Courville. Diable! a lady’s portrait; above all, that of Madame de Cossé. For the sake of that dear mamma, do not run away.”
“I know that voice,” said St. Luc.
“And then he speaks of my mother.”
“It is Bussy!”
“The Comte de Bussy, our friend,” and they reined up their horses.
“Good morning, madame,” said Bussy, laughing, and giving her the bracelet.
“Have you come from the king to arrest us?”
“No, ma foi, I am not sufficiently his majesty’s friend for such a mission. No, I found your bracelet at the hotel, which showed me that you preceded me on my way.”
“Then,” said St. Luc, “it is chance which brings you on our path.”