"You are Vigo," she said at once.
"Yes; and I know not what noble lady mademoiselle can be, save—will it please her to come into the house?"
He led the way with his torch, not suffering himself to look at her again. He had his foot on the staircase, when she called to him, as if she had been accustomed to addressing him all her life:
"Vigo, this will do. I will speak to you here."
"As mademoiselle wishes. I thought the salon fitter. My cabinet here will be quieter than the hall, mademoiselle."
He opened the door, and she entered. He pushed me in next, giving me the torch and saying:
"Ask mademoiselle, Félix, whether she wants me." He amazed me—he who always ordered.
"I want you, Vigo," mademoiselle answered him herself. "I want you to send two men with me to St. Denis."
"To-morrow?"
"No; to-night."