“Oh, no!” cried Lucile, impulsively, while her eyes shone with eagerness. “Please go on!”
“You are good, Mademoiselle,” murmured the Frenchman, and went on with his story:
“Well, I sat down outside her door and wept like a child, for to me the world seemed ended; but then, drawing 92 myself together, and angry at what I termed my miserable weakness, I set to work earnestly, doggedly, to find some way out of this great chain of circumstances that bound me. Where to find Jeanette? My brain reeled with the schemes and plans that came crowding upon me, only to be rejected one by one as improbable, fantastic, children of an overwrought imagination.
“At last, one idea became fixed in my mind. The thought came to me and stayed persistently that, in her great extremity, she would naturally fly to the one place of refuge which she knew—the old chateau where she had spent her so happy childhood.
“I knew the place to be still occupied by the old servant and his wife—this scrap of information my father had thrown to me—but, alas! I knew not the location, and there were so many chateaux of the kind in the province! How could I hope to find it?
“I sprang to my feet, while a new determination and resolve took possession of me, and I uttered a solemn oath, swearing that I would leave the house that night, not returning till I should bring Jeanette with me—my wife!”
Little chills of excitement chased themselves all over the girls in a highly disconcerting manner, and even scoffing Phil leaned forward in his chair to miss not one word of this remarkable story.