"What do you mean?" answered Isidore, hastily. "What brings you here?"
"I thought I saw you in the garden as I stood at my window, almost despairing of ever seeing you again. Ah, there may yet be a chance of saving you, for you are in such danger that I shudder to think of it—you whom I have dandled on my knee—you who were always so brave and so good, and so considerate to me, and were always fighting any young malapert who laughed at old Perigord."
Isidore could not help feeling his heart yearn towards the old chef, who, indeed, had got him out of many a boyish scrape, and allayed the pain of many a whipping with tarts, preserves, and other delicacies.
"Yes, you used to stand my friend often enough, Monsieur Perigord," said Isidore, as the old days came vividly back to his memory, "though I am afraid your well-meant sympathy will not help me much just now. But what do you know of my troubles and my danger?"
"I know all—everything—partly from what I have picked up in various quarters, for you may easily suppose that what goes on in the salon is talked about in the kitchen, but principally from that villain, that traitor, Jasmin, who for once let his tongue run on last night, and told enough to make it certain that something terrible is impending over you, and not only over you, but also over that sweet young lady, Mademoiselle Marguerite. Yes, my dear young master," continued the old man, as Isidore gave a slight start, and regarded him with manifest anxiety, "yes, I know how matters stand between you, and that there is a plot hatching against you, in which—monsieur will excuse me if I say it plainly—madame the baroness is the chief actor, and in which she has bribed that rascal to assist her and to betray you."
Isidore gazed at him half incredulous, and yet after what he had learned at Paris, what could be more likely, considering Madame de Valricour's conduct, and the check she had received in her most cherished plans?
"And Jasmin too! Where is the scoundrel?" said Isidore, impetuously. "Is he here?"
"My good master, do not waste time on him. I tell you frankly that I fear madame is contemplating a lettre de cachet, it may be for mademoiselle only, but I do not believe that even you are safe from her machinations, and I have reason to believe she has influence enough at Versailles for anything."
"I am not afraid of her, Monsieur Perigord," observed Isidore haughtily. "My father would hardly stand that, although he may be angry with me, as I suppose you know, since you know so much else."
"Perhaps so, perhaps so," answered old Perigord; "but it may be done behind his back, and before he can interfere. Besides, even if monsieur is safe I do not suppose he would let Mademoiselle Marguerite run any risk of such a horrible fate if he could help it."