"Do not forget it," said the old woman; "in that box is luck. Oh, where did I put it?"
She continued to mutter softly to herself. Louison allowed her to do so, and slipped into the other room. It was time for her to go about her business. This being Mardi-Gras, she expected to reap a rich harvest. As she was about to open the door, she suddenly paused; she thought she heard a voice, and listened. A knock now sounded at the door, and Louison asked:
"Who is there?"
"A friend," came back in a loud voice.
"Your name?"
"You do not know me."
"Tell me your name."
"Robeckal; please admit me."
The young girl did not open at once; an indefinable fear seized her. Suppose the vicomte, who had followed her all over, had at last found out where she lived?