“No; but it is written in one of my old ledgers.”
“Will you do me the kindness to look for it?” said I, “as these things have a deep interest for me, since I have known so many of the exiled families.”
It was in no spirit of curiosity that I made this request; I needed nothing to aid me. There stood the old tower which contained my play-room; there, the little window at which I have sat, silent and alone, whole nights long. It was to conceal my emotion that I wished him away; and scarcely had he left the room, when I hid my face within my hands and sobbed aloud. The search occupied him some time; and when he returned, I had recovered myself sufficiently to escape his notice.
“Well, have you found it?” said I.
“Yes, your Excellency, here it is,—in the lady's own writing too.”
The words were simply the routine entry of travellers in the “police-sheet” of the hotel, stating that Madame la Comtesse de Gabriac, accompanied by son secrétaire. Monsieur Raper, had passed two days there, and then departed for———. The word had been written, and then blotted out.
“For where?” asked I.
“That is the strangest point of all,” said he; “for after having taken the places for Milan, and their passports all vised for that city, when day broke they were not to be found. Some peasants, who came to market that day, thought they had seen them on the mountains taking the path to Feldkirch; but wherever they went, they were never heard of more.”
“Do you mean that they had to set out on foot?”
“Parbleu! your Excellency; the route they took can be travelled in no other fashion.”