The boy had flushed with pleasure at the sound of his unprefixed name. “Alas, the treasure will probably be gone before I am well enough for that, Madame. The Marquis de Kersaint will send somebody—but not one of us. He said it was work for an older and wiser head, and I suppose he was right. I suspect he will send M. de Brencourt, if he can spare him.”
“Oh!” said Valentine, and was silent all at once.
“But,” went on the youth, unregarding, “if I am to promise not to return, Madame de Vidal, you must give me a remembrance of you to take away with me. Otherwise——”
“I think you are threatening me,” observed Valentine, recovering herself. “For my part I can ill spare my thimble, but if it will prevent your climbing that wall again—Stay, I believe I have something after all.”
And going into the outer room she came back with the locket she had found in the work table in her boudoir.
“If you care for this, Monsieur de Céligny,” she said, “you are welcome to it. It has no value. It was mine as a girl, before my marriage.”
But she need not have said that, for the V, which alone stood out clearly among the twisted pearls and garnets of the monogram, he could easily take for “Vidal.” Getting with some difficulty to his feet the young man reverently received the trinket, looked at it, and having kissed it slipped the worn chain about his neck. Mme de Trélan brought some garments from the bed.
“It is really time to go, mon enfant. You will need all your courage for the journey. Here is your hat; I brought it in afterwards from the guardianship of the statue; and you must put on this cloak, for it is raining hard. All the better, for rain drowns noises—though I hope there is no one to hear in any case. Now, you must lean on me hard, for I am very strong.”
It was indeed raining from a light spring sky which somehow concealed a moon. On the limes of the Allée des Soupirs, when they got there, the drops pattered heavily. The journey had been slow and trying, but at last they reached the door. Roland, panting, leant against the wall while Valentine opened it.
It was lucky that she had oiled bolts and hinges, for even then it protested as she pulled at it. The last ivy tendril gave. Mme de Trélan went through and heard an unseen horse blow out its nostrils and a bit jingle, and then saw two dim forms waiting in the lane. One of them touched her on the shoulder.