"'Have you been living here long, Madame?'
"'Ten years,' she replied.
"'And these beautiful children are yours?'
"She hesitated a moment, or I thought so, but she said in a moment:
"'Yes, they are mine, and you will see their father presently, the best man in this place!' She brought in a bowl of steaming soup. 'Excuse the simplicity of the service, sir.' The door opened, and, master, if it had been in Africa, or thousands of miles from France, I should have known Simonne's son. He had his great deep eyes, but, master——"
Pierre stopped short.
"Go on; you frighten me!" cried the Marquis.
"Oh! master, Monsieur Simon has lost a leg. I saw it at once, and the tears came to my eyes. He lost it at Elchingen, in 1805—it was shot off by a cannon ball."
The Marquis started.
"And his brother was there, too!" he murmured. "Go on, Pierre."