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He snatched up his rifle, suddenly sprang to his feet, made but one jump of it into the field, and rushed off to the guide-post. "This way, d'Albon, here you are! left about!" he shouted, gesticulating in the direction of the highroad. "To Baillet and l'Isle-Adam!" he went on; "so if we go along here, we shall be sure to come upon the cross-road to Cassan."
"That village down yonder must be Baillet." "Great heavens!" cried the Marquis d'Albon. "Go on to Cassan by all means, if you like; but if you do, you will go alone. I prefer to wait here, storm or no storm; you can send a horse for me from the chateau. You have been making game of me, Sucy.
Monsieur d'Albon then informed him of the reasons for his visit. "What! monsieur," said the other, "was it you who fired that fatal shot? You very nearly killed my poor patient." "But, monsieur, I fired in the air." "You would have done the countess less harm had you fired at her."
"I am rubbing my eyes to know if I am asleep or awake," replied the marquis, with his face close to the iron rails as he tried to get another sight of the phantom. "She must be beneath that fig-tree," he said, pointing to the foliage of a tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate. "She! who?" "How can I tell?" replied Monsieur d'Albon.
Human passions surely could not cross that boundary of tall oak-trees which shut out the sounds of the outer world, and screened the fierce heat of the sun from this forest sanctuary. "What neglect!" said M. d'Albon to himself, after the first sense of delight in the melancholy aspect of the ruins in the landscape, which seemed blighted by a curse. It was like some haunted spot, shunned of men.
"Quite right, Colonel," said M. d'Albon, putting the cap with which he had been fanning himself back on his head. "Then forward! highly respected Councillor," returned Colonel Philip, whistling to the dogs, that seemed already to obey him rather than the magistrate their owner. "Are you aware, my lord Marquis, that two leagues yet remain before us?" inquired the malicious soldier.
The carriage immediately came towards the Minorite convent, and M. d'Albon recognized neighbors, M. and Mme. de Grandville, who hastened to alight and put their carriage at his disposal.
Mlle. de Lespinasse, one of the leaders in the social world, with a prominent salon, was the illegitimate daughter of a Comtesse d'Albon, and her presiding genius was the illegitimate son of Mme. de Tencin; here we find the wealthiest and most elegant of the aristocracy coming from their palaces to meet, in friendly social and intellectual intercourse, men who lived on a mere pittance, dressed on almost nothing, lodged in the most wretched of dens, boarding wherever a salon or palace was opened to them.
The Belley dynasty reigned in Yvetot for 332 years. The last king of that petty kingdom was D'Albon St Marcel, who, when at the court of Louis XVI., modestly assumed no higher rank than that of a prince. The Revolution, as we have already intimated, swept away the ancient crown, and the King of Yvetot is now nothing more than the title of a song, with its burden Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!
"Hasten at once to the Minorite convent, find out everything about the lady whom we saw there, and come back as soon as you can; I shall count the minutes till I see you again." M. d'Albon called for his horse, and galloped over to the old monastery.
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