Marie Josephine sat silently looking up at the stars for a moment. It was Grigge of whom Bertran had spoken, Grigge who was Jean’s cousin.
Martin had poured some sparkling yellow wine into the tall, thin glasses and Bertran stood up suddenly.
“To His Majesty, King Louis of France,” he said.
The others rose to their feet and said, “His Majesty the King.” Then they drank a little of the wine and sat down again.
They did not see that some one was coming slowly from the dark shrubbery at the side of the terrace. Martin saw him first and dropped a dish of apricots. Then the children and Madame le Pont all saw him at once, as he came up to the table. He was a bearded man in ragged clothes, a red cap on his head. They all sat perfectly still watching him, not one of them cried out. It was Bertran who spoke first. He stood up and faced the man.
“Who are you and what do you want?”
The man did not answer and Bertran said:
“Leave the presence of the ladies at once or I shall call the men on the place.” Bertran was frightened, but did his best to make his voice manly and convincing.
Suddenly Marie Josephine jumped up from the table, and ran up to the stranger.
“Why, don’t you know him? It’s Neville!” she cried. There was a half sob in her voice. Neville had come back. How was it that the others had not recognized him? She had known him by his eyes at once.