And all this while I looked from one to the other with a most dull and stupid stare.
Agnes looked up at me once, radiant and confused, then lowered her eyes again.
The Chevalier broke a silence which was becoming intolerable, to me at least, who did not understand it all.
"Captain de Mouret, you have been in error, and have done me no wrong. This lady here is my worshiped wife, Madame Agnes de la Mora." I looked upon her incredulously, while that gracious woman took one hand from her husband long enough to extend to me her greeting.
Thoroughly perplexed by this most unlooked for denouement, I asked:
"Who, then, is this?"
"This chit," he replied, walking round the table, happy as a boy, and almost lifting her bodily, "this is Madame's little sister, Charlotte. She confessed this evening to having spoken with you once in the Chapel at Sceaux—and I, may God forgive me, doubted but she had done it to shield her sister. I knew the little minx had warned you in the Park, but thought nothing of it. Charlotte, come here!"
And Charlotte de Verges laid her warm little hand in mine. For thirty years it has rested there in peace.
Thus, through many strange perils and purifying sorrows came the abiding happiness which blessed these last two children of the "Black Wolf's Breed."