"By the bye, what has become of our good friend Montague?"
"Oh, Montague," answered the baron; "he is in Paris. He has been prevented from dining with us by an invitation to his ambassador's; but he will look in this evening, and you will see him."
"Ah, that's capital!" exclaimed my uncle; "I shall be delighted to see him again."
When I heard this name mentioned, I pricked up my ears. Still there was nothing to indicate that the Montague spoken of was the commodore. I listened with curiosity.
"Will he stay in Paris any length of time?" my uncle continued.
"The whole winter," replied the baroness. "He has come to pick up his daughters, whom he had left in my charge two years ago, before he went off to the North Pole."
"Ah, yes! little Maud and Suzannah," observed my uncle.
"Yes, captain; only your little Maud and Suzannah are now grown-up young ladies," added the baroness with a laugh.
It was impossible for me to entertain any more doubts; and I confess my mind was far from easy when I heard this. At the thought of meeting the commodore, my first idea was to get away at once, before he arrived. Although I was confident of the perfect security of my secret, and although it was the merest chance that had brought about the intimacy which I could not have foreseen between Kondjé-Gul and his daughters, I could not conceal from myself the embarrassment which I should feel in his presence. As bad luck would have it, I was already seated at the card-table. I lost my tricks as fast as I could in order to shorten the game, swearing inwardly at the captain and my uncle, who were both of them playing with a provoking deliberation, and lecturing me upon my careless play. At last, having succeeded in losing my three rubbers, I got up from the table, alleging a sudden attack of head-ache, when at this very moment, in the next drawing-room where the baroness was sitting, the servant announced,
"Commodore Montague!"