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And he handed it to the old Vicomte de Castel Aunet, whose shaking fingers closed round it in a breathless silence. He carried it to the table, and some one brought candles. The Vicomte was very old. He had learnt clock-making, they said, in prison during the Terror. "Il n'y a moyen," he whispered to himself. "I must break it."
"The Vicomte de Castel Aunet who is so clever a mechanician has promised to bring his tools," said Monsieur de Gemosac. "He will open it for us even if he find it necessary to break the locket." So the thing went round the room until it came to Loo Barebone. "I have seen it before," he said. "I think I remember seeing it long ago when I was a little child."
It was the face of a young girl, long and narrow, with the hair drawn straight up and dressed high and simply on the head without ornament. "It is she," said one and another. "C'est bien elle." "It was painted when she was newly a queen," commented the Vicomte de Castel Aunet. "I have seen others like it, but not that one before." Barebone stood apart and no one offered to approach him.
"The Vicomte de Castel Aunet who is so clever a mechanician has promised to bring his tools," said Monsieur de Gemosac. "He will open it for us even if he find it necessary to break the locket." So the thing went round the room until it came to Loo Barebone. "I have seen it before," he said. "I think I remember seeing it long ago when I was a little child."
It was the face of a young girl, long and narrow, with the hair drawn straight up and dressed high and simply on the head without ornament. "It is she," said one and another. "C'est bien elle." "It was painted when she was newly a queen," commented the Vicomte de Castel Aunet. "I have seen others like it, but not that one before." Barebone stood apart and no one offered to approach him.
"Since there is no longer any doubt that the lady was your father's mother." Loo took the locket, looked at it with strangely glittering eyes and steady lips. He gave a sort of gasp, which all in the room heard. He was handing it back to the Vicomte de Castel Aunet without a word of comment, when a crashing fall on the bare floor startled every one. A lady had fainted.
And he handed it to the old Vicomte de Castel Aunet, whose shaking fingers closed round it in a breathless silence. He carried it to the table, and some one brought candles. The Viconite was very old. He had learnt clock-making, they said, in prison during the Terror. "Il n'y a moyen," he whispered to himself. "I must break it."
"Since there is no longer any doubt that the lady was your father's mother." Loo took the locket, looked at it with strangely glittering eyes and steady lips. He gave a sort of gasp, which all in the room heard. He was handing it back to the Vicomte de Castel Aunet without a word of comment, when a crashing fall on the bare floor startled every one. A lady had fainted.
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