“I turned again. My gentleman was just helping another out of the chaise. I did not know the second either, but since they were presumably émigrés and might have news, I went quickly down the steps again. The two gentlemen took off their hats.
“‘Mademoiselle Amélie, my cousin—don’t you remember me?’ says the second of the two in English.
“And, Philip, I didn’t! I only knew his voice. There was so little else left of the engaging boy of eighteen who used to make love to me (yes, Phil, he did, and I suspect to every other girl he met). And yet they were the same eyes.
“‘Louis!’ I gasped. ‘M. de Saint-Ermay!’
“‘I prefer the first title, if you please, cousin!’ says Louis, and he caught my hand and kissed it.
“I seized him by the arm. ‘But—but you are a ghost!’ I cried—and, indeed, he looked like one. ‘My God, am I dreaming? We all believe you dead!’
“‘But I wrote!’ exclaimed M. de Saint-Ermay, ‘as soon as I could—and M. des Graves wrote before that. Ciel! do not say she never got any of the letters?’
“And then I bethought me of the shock that Lucienne would have if she came back at that moment from the wood—of my aunt. My first impulse was to hide him somewhere.
“‘You must come in—I must prepare them,’ I said hastily. ‘This gentleman——’
“‘A thousand pardons,’ said the Vicomte. ‘Forgive my rudeness.’ He touched on the arm the other gentleman, who was discreetly gazing down the avenue. ‘My friend the Chevalier d’Aubeville, who has had the charity to accompany me here from Jersey.’