"I!" replied a trembling voice, "I, Grandchamp, the baron's valet."
"Ah! mon Dieu! Grandchamp, you at Paris! speak low! Whence do you come?"
"From Meridor. Alas, dear M. Remy!"
"Well," cried the lady from the top of the stairs, "are they our horses, Remy?"
"No, madame, it is not them. What is it, Grandchamp?"
"You do not guess?"
"Alas! I do; what will she do, poor lady."
"Remy," cried she again, "you are talking to some one?"
"Yes, madame."
"I thought I knew the voice."