"If it is the evil spirit that guides my son's hand and tongue, we are lost, Mario!"
He did not listen to her, but, placing the little bag on Lucilio's table, hastily ripped it open with the dagger. He took from it the ring, which he placed on his thumb, and Abbé Anjorrant's letter to Monsieur Sully, of which he burst the seal and silk thread, to Mercedes's dire consternation.
MARIO ESTABLISHES HIS IDENTITY.
He darted into the hall, ran back to the marquis's chamber, snatched unceremoniously from his hands the letter over which he was still meditating, compared the handwritings,...
That done, he opened the letter, took out a stained and spotted paper, kissed it and examined it carefully; then, shouting: "Come, mother! Come, Monsieur Jovelin!" he darted into the hall, ran back to the marquis's chamber, snatched unceremoniously from his hands the letter over which he was still meditating, compared the handwritings, and, thrusting everything that he held, letters, ring and dagger, into Adamas's hand, leaped on the marquis's knees, threw his arms about his neck, and hugged him so tight that the worthy man was almost suffocated for a moment.
"Come, come!" said Bois-Doré at last, somewhat annoyed by this familiarity, which he did not expect, and which had seriously deranged his wig, "this is not the time for play of this sort, my young friend, and you are taking liberties which—Whom is this you have brought here and why?"
The marquis paused when he saw Mario burst into tears.
The child had acted in obedience to an inspiration, he had had faith; but, as the minds of the others did not move so fast or so straight as his, doubt, fear and shame returned to him. He had disobeyed Mercedes, who was weeping and trembling.