"I hope the spasms are going over, my dear," said the Marquis de Merrivale, who was really distressed by Bertha's supposed illness. "It was very clever to divert observation by talking about dresses and jewels; but the truffles did the mischief. I knew well enough what was the matter with you."
"No—no; it was those jewels," replied Bertha, who had not yet recovered her self-possession. "Those diamonds and emeralds were Madeleine's!"
"Madeleine's!" ejaculated Maurice, who had approached her on witnessing her unaccountable agitation. "Good heavens! is it possible?"
"Yes, they were Madeleine's,—they were her mother's jewels and had been in her family for generations. Madeleine showed them to me only a few nights before she left the Château de Gramont. I am sure of them. I would have recognized them anywhere."
"Then at last—at last, oh thank God—we shall trace her! She must have sold those jewels for her support. We must learn from whence Madame de Fleury purchased them," returned Maurice, with a voice trembling with exultation.
"Madame de Fleury said they were a cadeau from the marquis," replied Bertha. "Come, let us find him,—let us ask him at once."
Bertha rose with animation and took her uncle's arm.
"Where are you going, my dear? Pray do not excite yourself again," pleaded her solicitous guardian. "Pray keep cool. Dinner must shortly be served, and you will not be in a fit state to do justice to the sumptuous repast which I have no doubt awaits us,—some of those novel inventions, perhaps, which you were so anxious to taste. I see people are not scrupulously punctual in Paris,—it is ten minutes after the time. Possibly we are waiting for some guest who has not sufficient good taste to remember that viands may be overdone through his culpability."
"I must speak to M. de Fleury," said Bertha. "Let us get nearer to him, that I may seize the first opportunity when he ceases talking to that pompous-looking old gentleman who has the left breast of his coat covered with decorations."
"Well, well, take it quietly—keep cool—don't get your blood into a ferment,—that's all I ask."