An hour perhaps went by, and I had made some progress with my memoir, when my door was opened and the cheery voice of Castelroux greeted me from the threshold.
“Monsieur, I have brought a friend to see you.”
I turned in my chair, and one glance at the gentle, comely face and the fair hair of the young man standing beside Castelroux was enough to bring me of a sudden to my feet.
“Mironsac!” I shouted, and sprang towards him with hands outstretched.
But though my joy was great and my surprise profound, greater still was the bewilderment that in Mironsac's face I saw depicted.
“Monsieur de Bardelys!” he exclaimed, and a hundred questions were contained in his astonished eyes.
“Po' Cap de Dieu!” growled his cousin, “I was well advised, it seems, to have brought you.”
“But,” Mironsac asked his cousin, as he took my hands in his own, “why did you not tell me, Amedee, that it was to Monsieur le Marquis de Bardelys that you were conducting me?”
“Would you have had me spoil so pleasant a surprise?” his cousin demanded.
“Armand,” said I, “never was a man more welcome than are you. You are but come in time to save my life.”