“No, but her letters—those that come after her departure?”
“Her letters? I am ordered to deliver them to Monsieur le commandeur, the little old gentlemen who came to see her so often; monsieur must have met him.”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” said la Peyrade, keeping his presence of mind in the midst of the successive shocks which came upon him,—“the powered little man who was here every day.”
“I couldn’t say every day; but he came often. Well, I am told to give the countess’s letters to him.”
“And for other persons of her acquaintance,” said la Peyrade, carelessly, “did she leave no message?”
“None, monsieur.”
“Very well,” said la Peyrade, “good-morning.” And he turned to go out.
“But I think,” said the porter, “that Mademoiselle Thuillier knows more about it than I do. Won’t monsieur go up? She is at home; and so is Monsieur Thuillier.”
“No, never mind,” said la Peyrade, “I only came to tell Madame de Godollo about a commission she asked me to execute; I haven’t time to stop now.”
“Well, as I told you, she left with post-horses this morning. Two hours earlier monsieur might still have found her; but now, with post-horses, she must by this time have gone a good distance.”