Upon reaching St. Jean’s house, he found the door open; he walked into the immense empty kitchen.
He rapped on the table, and was answered by a voice calling out:
“Who is there?”
The next moment a man of about forty years appeared in the doorway, and seemed much surprised at finding a stranger standing in his kitchen.
“What will you have, monsieur?” he inquired.
“Does not St. Jean, the old valet of the Marquis of Clameran, live here?”
“My father died five years ago, monsieur,” replied the man in a sad tone.
This news affected Louis painfully, as if he had expected this old man to restore him some of his lost youth; the last link was gone. He sighed, and, after a silence, said:
“I am the Marquis of Clameran.”
The farmer, at these words, uttered an exclamation of joy. He seized Louis’s hand, and, pressing it with respectful attention, cried: