“I will go with you to your pirogue,” I answered, “when you embark you shall have it.”
“I, too, will go,” said Madame la Vicomtesse.
“You overwhelm me with civility, Madame,” said the Sieur de St. Gré, bowing low.
“Lead the way, Monsieur,” I said.
He took his bundle, and started off down the garden path with a grand air. I looked at the Vicomtesse inquiringly, and there was laughter in her eyes.
“I must show you the way to Lamarque's.” And then she whispered, “You have done well, Mr. Ritchie.”
I did not return her look, but waited until she took the path ahead of me. In silence we followed Auguste through the depths of the woods, turning here and there to avoid a fallen tree or a sink-hole where the water still remained. At length we came out in the glare of the sun and crossed the dusty road to the levee bank. Some forty yards below us was the canoe, and we walked to it, still in silence. Auguste flung in his bundle, and turned to us.
“Perhaps Monsieur is satisfied,” he said.
I handed him the bag, and he took it with an elaborate air of thankfulness. Nay, the rascal opened it as if to assure himself that he was not tricked at the last. At the sight of the gold and silver which Antoinette had hastily collected, he turned to Madame la Vicomtesse.
“Should I have the good fortune to meet Monsieur le Vicomte in France, I shall assure him that Madame is in good hands” (he swept an exultant look at me) “and enjoying herself.”