“Your pardon, Monsieur,” he said at once, in an even, sweet voice; “are you not an Abbé?”
“No,” answered Luc, greatly amazed.
“Ah, forgive me; I thought I had been told that an Abbé lodged here.” He seemed slightly disappointed, but made no movement of leaving.
“Are you staying in this house, Monsieur?” asked Luc.
“Yes; I have the chambers opposite.” He glanced with a smile at Luc’s blue velvet and black satins, court sword and powdered hair. “You have not been sleeping either, I perceive,” he added.
“I was at the fête last night,” answered the Marquis, “and fell into thought when I returned, and now it seems strange to go to bed by daylight.”
The young man hesitated a moment, while Luc held the door courteously open.
“Are you alone?” he asked at last.
“I have my servant—he is asleep in the other chamber.”
Again the other hesitated, then said with a kind of wistful earnestness—