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Saint-Gre is a good fellow, a cousin of the present Marquis in France, and his ancestors held many positions of trust in the colony under the French regime. He entertains lavishly at Les Iles, his plantation on the Mississippi. He has the gossip of New Orleans at his tongue's tip, and you will be suspected of nothing save a desire to amuse yourselves if you go there."

"If I had four hundred livres," she said, "if I had four hundred livres!" "And what then?" I asked. "Monsieur," she said, "a terrible thing has happened. Auguste de Saint-Gre " "Auguste de Saint-Gre!" I exclaimed. "He is the son of that Monsieur de Saint-Gre of whom we spoke," she answered, "a wild lad, a spendthrift, a gambler, if you like.

You saw me quarrelling with my brother, Auguste," she went on a little excitedly. "Oh, I am very much ashamed of it. I was so angry. My cousin, Mademoiselle Helene de Saint-Gre, has just sent me from France such a beautiful miniature, and Auguste fell in love with it." "Fell in love with it!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

As I walked back to Madame Bouvet's I made up my mind that there was but the one thing to do, to go at once to Monsieur de Saint-Gre's plantation. Finding Madame still waiting in the gallery, I asked her to direct me thither. "You have but to follow the road that runs southward along the levee, and some three leagues will bring you to it, Monsieur. You will inquire for Monsieur de Saint-Gre."

"I am not proud of it," I answered shortly. "What the deuce is to do now!" he asked. "I cannot linger here," I answered; "I have business with Monsieur de Saint-Gre, and I must go back to New Orleans at once." "Then I will wait for you," said Nick. "Davy, I have met my fate." I laughed in spite of myself. "It seems to me that I have heard that remark before," I answered.

Regardez, Monsieur, you have a bargain. Here is Mademoiselle Helene de Saint-Gre, daughter of my lord the Marquis of whom I have the honor to be a cousin," and he made a bow. "It is by the famous court painter, Joseph Boze, and Mademoiselle de Saint-Gre herself is a favorite of her Majesty." He held the portrait close to the candle and regarded it critically.

The grassy path leading through the vista was trimly kept, and on either side of it in the moist, green shade of the great trees flowers bloomed in a profusion of startling colors, in splotches of scarlet and white and royal purple. Nick slipped from his horse. "Behold the mansion of Mademoiselle de Saint-Gre," said he, waving his hand up the vista. "How do you know?" I asked.

What if he should come in and discover the party at the table? I stopped short in the hallway, and there Madame Bouvet overtook me. "How can I thank you, Monsieur?" she said. And then, "You will return the portrait to Monsieur de Saint-Gre?" "I have a letter from Monsieur Gratiot to that gentleman, which I shall deliver in the morning," I answered. "And now, Madame, I have a favor to ask of you."

He begged that we would dine with him when we returned from Les Iles. "You will not find an island, Mr. Ritchie," he said; "Saint-Gre's plantation is a huge block of land between the river and a cypress swamp behind. Saint-Gre is a man with a wonderful quality of mind, who might, like his ancestors, have made his mark if necessity had probed him or opportunity offered.

This done, I went out into the gallery, where Madame was already seated at her knitting, in the shade of the great tree that stood in the corner of the court and spread its branches over the eaves. She arose and courtesied, with a questioning smile. "Madame," I asked, "is it too early to present myself to Monsieur de Saint-Gre?"