"The marchioness! have you seen her?"
"No, monsieur le comte; but she sent her maid to me—a very pretty brunette, on my word!"
"Well—go on!"
"Who handed me a note and bade me bring it to you."
"A letter from Valentine! Give it to me!"
Léodgard snatched the letter from Bahuchet's hands, and eagerly ran through it.
"This letter requires no reply," he said to the little man, after reading it. "You may retire."
Bahuchet made a faint grimace.
"Do you mean, monsieur le comte, that I am to go away like this, as I came?"
Léodgard realized what he had forgotten, and hastily placed a gold piece in the messenger's hand; whereupon Bahuchet withdrew with a radiant face, making innumerable protestations of devotion.