"From the garret, monsieur."
"Very good; and you say that there are others there?"
"Yes, monsieur; a little horse with only three legs, a broken drum, some little toy weapons, the remains of a feudal donjon——"
Adamas paused abruptly as he noticed that the marquis was gazing with an absorbed expression at the stuffed dog, while a tear made a furrow through the paint on his cheek.
"I have done some stupid thing!" said the old servant to himself; "for God's sake, my dear good master, what makes you weep?"
"I do not know—a moment's weakness!" said the marquis, wiping his cheek with his perfumed handkerchief, upon which a considerable portion of the roses of his complexion remained; "I fancied that I recognized that plaything, and if I am right, Adamas, it is a relic that must not be given away! It was my poor brother's!"
"Really, monsieur? Ah! I am nothing but an old fool! I ought to have thought of that. I supposed that it was something that you used to play with when you were a little child."
"No! when I was a child, I had no playthings. It was a time of war and sorrow in this country; my father was a terrible man, and to amuse me showed me fetters and chains, peasants astride the wooden horse, and prisoners hanging on the elms in the park. Later, much later, he had a second wife and a second son."
"I know it, monsieur—young Monsieur Florimond, whom you loved so dearly! The flower of young gentlemen, most assuredly! And he disappeared in such a strange way!"
"I loved him more than I can say, Adamas! not so much for any relations we had together after he grew to manhood, for then we followed different banners, and met very seldom, just long enough to embrace and to tell each other that we were friends and brothers in spite of everything; but for his sweet, charming ways in his childhood, when, as I have told you, I had occasion to take care of him and watch over him during one of my father's absences which lasted about a year. His second wife was dead and the province very unsettled. I knew that the Calvinists detested my father, and I thought it my duty to protect that poor child, whom I did not know, and who grew to love me as if he realized our father's injustice to me. He was as gentle and beautiful as this little Mario. He had neither kindred nor friends about him, for in those days some died of the plague and others of fright. He would have died, too, for lack of care and cheer, had not I become so attached to him that I played with him for whole days at a time. It was I who brought him these toys, and I have good reason to remember them, now I think about it, for they came within an ace of costing me very dear."