"No, no, no; that was not it! I could see you from here, going and coming with all those officers."
"That was your own fault. Instead of taking refuge like an owl in this old turret, you ought to have come into the salon and gone with us to the dining-room and eaten your supper sitting, like a Christian, on a proper chair. You would have heard my father and General Dermoncourt relating adventures to make your flesh creep, and you would have seen the old weasel Loriot--as my father calls him--eating his supper, which was scarcely less alarming."
"Good God!" cried Michel.
"What?" asked Mary, surprised by the sudden exclamation.
"Maître Loriot, of Machecoul?"
"Maître Loriot, of Machecoul," repeated Mary.
"My mother's notary?"
"Ah, yes, that's true; so he is!" said Mary.
"Is he here?" asked Michel.
"Yes, of course he is here; and what do you think he came for?" continued Mary, laughing.