'How—have you not ladies enough in the French camp?'
'She whom I seek is a lady of Lorraine, whom I had pledged my word of honour to conduct in safety from Paris to the gate of Nanci—being now en route to join the army of Hepburn and Lavalette.'
'And who is this demoiselle, and what are her name and rank, that she required a chevalier of the King's Scottish Guard to escort her from Paris through Champagne and Lorraine?'
Policy and emotions of a somewhat mingled nature made me pause: to mention the name and position of Nicola, as a soubrette of the King's mistress, would only have courted ridicule and mischief.
'Who is she, monsieur?' demanded the Count. 'I think at such a time as this, when rumour affirms that Mademoiselle de Lorraine has been taken at a sequestered château near Paris, and is now languishing in the Bastille, some wonderful interest must be attached to the woman you are in quest of?'
'M. le Comte, she is—'
'What—speak!'
'My sister.'
'A likely story! we never heard that any of our ladies at Nanci had brothers in the Garde du Corps Ecossais; but we shall inquire into all this, at least before we hang you; so give up your sword.'
'To whom?' said I.