“Oh, speak! speak, madame!”
“The soldier, who brought these orphans to France, the father of M. Agricola, is still in town?”
“Yes, madame. Oh! if you only knew his fury, his despair, when, on his return home, he no longer found the children that a dying mother had confided to him!”
“He must take care not to act with the least violence. It would ruin all. Take this ring,” said Adrienne, drawing it from her finger, “and give it to him. He must go instantly—are you sure that you can remember a name and address?”
“Oh! yes, madame. Be satisfied on that point. Agricola only mentioned your name once, and I have not forgotten it. There is a memory of the heart.”
“I perceive it, my dear girl. Remember, then, the name of the Count de Montbron.”
“The Count de Montbron—I shall not forget.”
“He is one of my good old friends, and lives on the Place Vendome, No. 7.”
“Place Vendome, No. 7—I shall remember.”
“M. Agricola’s father must go to him this evening, and, if he is not at home, wait for his coming in. He must ask to speak to him, as if from me, and send him this ring as a proof of what he says. Once with him, he must tell him all—the abduction of the girls, the name of the convent where they are confined, and my own detention as a lunatic in the asylum of Dr. Baleinier. Truth has an accent of its own, which M. de Montbron will recognize. He is a man of much experience and judgment, and possessed of great influence. He will immediately take the necessary steps, and to-morrow, or the day after, these poor orphans and myself will be restored to liberty—all thanks to you! But moments are precious; we might be discovered; make haste, dear child!”