Next morning, the sunlight gilding the pinnacles of the Louvre, the cries of Paris, the fascinating dash of the metropolis, brought back to him his gift of animal spirits. Were he, he thought, but to successfully outride his present troubles, he would accept a post which had been offered him, as commandant of a cadet school on the far away estates of the Duke de la Rochefoucault, and thither retire quietly with Cyrène, away from the jealousy and criticism of the Court, and make open confession to her.
By appointment made at Troyes he went to meet Grancey in the Palais Royal garden.
Germain took his friend's arm and led him along the antiquated quarter of the Marais, where he had secured a room in a quiet neighbourhood for the old Chevalier de Lincy. His heart beat lest anything should have occurred to arrest the old noble's illusion. His intention was to introduce Grancey into the apartment of the old man, and there to let him gather from the lips of the occupant words that would link Germain with a house so ancient and respected. They arrived at the door, rang, and demanded of the landlady whether the Chevalier was in. She looked at them curiously as she held the door open.
"Is one of you Monsieur de Lincy's cousin!" she inquired.
"I, Madame," replied he.
"Come in, sir. Have you not received the letter posted yesterday by the priest?"
"By the priest?" Germain stopped, with his friend, on the threshold of the chamber into which she had led them. "Is he ill, then?"
"The saints protect him, sir, he has finished his last illness. He lies upstairs in his beautiful mortuary chamber draped by the Sisters of the Hospital."
"Poor old de Lincy," he murmured, yet could hardly realise it.
"Are you not Monsieur de Lincy, too, sir?" she inquired.