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Updated: May 10, 2025
The man plunged his hand into a little goatskin pouch which he wore, but in vain; he was so embarrassed by the child in his arms, that he could not find it. "What the devil are you doing with that child?" asked De Loignac. "He is my son, monsieur." "Well; put your son down. You are married, then?" "Yes, monsieur." "At twenty?"
"I am Pertinax de Montcrabeau," replied the young man, with astonishment. "Do you not know me now?" "When I am on service, I know no one. Your card, monsieur?" He held it out. "All right! pass," said De Loignac. The third now approached, whose card was demanded in the same terms.
The young man looked up; it was our friend Ernanton de Carmainges. "I beg you will leave me alone," said he, "I was not thinking of you." Pincornay turned away, grumbling; but at this moment an officer entered. "M. de Loignac!" cried twenty voices. At this name, known through all Gascony, every one rose and kept silence.
I will tell the king what you have done for his service." St. Maline grew red and then pale; but he understood, being clever when not blinded by passion, that Ernanton spoke the truth, and that he was expected. There was no joking with MM. de Loignac and d'Epernon; therefore he said, "You are free, M. Ernanton; I am delighted to have been agreeable to you."
Ah! those were the names, madame 'Margota cum Turennio." Marguerite grew crimson. "Calumnies, sire!" cried she. "What calumnies?" replied he, with the most natural air possible. "Do you find any calumny in it? It is a passage from my brother's letter 'Margota cum Turennio conveniunt in castello nomine Loignac! Decidedly I must get this letter translated."
"Perhaps," continued De Loignac, "a great personage will come to the Louvre this evening; if so, do not lose sight of him, and follow him when he leaves." "Pardon me, monsieur; but that seems the work of a spy." "Do you think so? It is possible; but look here" and he drew out a paper which he presented to Ernanton, who read
But then I must procure the volume by Joseph de Loignac, her first biographer, the notice by the Recluse of Marlaigne, the pamphlet by Monseigneur de Ram, the narrative by Papebröch; above all I must have at hand the translation, made by the Carmelites of Louvain, of the Flemish manuscript written while the Mother was still alive, by her daughters. Where can I unearth that?
"They marry young among us; you ought to know that, M. de Loignac, who were married at eighteen." "Oh!" thought De Loignac, "here is another who knows me." "And why should he not be married?" cried the woman advancing. "Yes, monsieur, he is married, and here are two other children who call him father, besides this great lad behind. Advance, Militor, and bow to M. de Loignac."
"For five days and nights?" "Yes, monsieur." "Then he has left Paris?" "He left that same evening, and that seemed to me suspicious." "You are right, monsieur, go on." Ernanton related clearly and energetically all that had taken place. When Ernanton mentioned the letter: "You have it, monsieur?" asked De Loignac. "Yes, monsieur." "Diable! that deserves attention; come with me, I beg of you."
At present I do not know the capacities of any one, but I shall watch and learn. Now, go, gentlemen; and M. de Montcrabeau and M. de Pincornay, you will remember that I expect your fines to be paid to-morrow." They all retired except Ernanton, who lingered behind. "Do you wish anything?" asked De Loignac.
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