"She is with the emperor's court at Madrid, and hopes to see you all set sail from Lisbon. By the way," added Ribeaupierre, with a smile of waggery, "your lively Spanish friend, Donna Isidora, will be quite consoled when I tell her that I have seen you—alive and well too! She thinks of you with remorse and tears, as one whom she had poisoned in mistake, she says. How came all that to pass? We sent a patrol to search the Villa de Maciera for you, but no trace of you could be found."
"Is she still in your hands?" asked Quentin, with an expression of interest.
"Yes, monsieur," replied the other, caressing his moustache.
"A prisoner?"
"Peste! What an idea!"
"I trust you—you have treated her well and kindly?"
"She shall answer for herself, some time hence."
"A prisoner! Poor Isidora! She will be quite inconsolable."
"Inconsolable? Mom ami, you forget in whose charming society she is! We fellows of the 24th Chasseurs are unrivalled in conversational powers and the general art of pleasing. She spoke of you very often—thought you a very nice fellow—but so quiet—so triste!"
Quentin was glad that Monkton, whom he did not wish to hear all this, had gradually gone beyond earshot.