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The warning came from one who would not have penned it without good grounds, and Isidore felt that it was not to be neglected for a moment. What if some mischief had already befallen Marguerite during his absence! In half an hour he was again in the saddle and on his way to Valricour.
He stopped short, for the blank look had suddenly changed into one so fiercely angry that anything further in the way of complimentary speeches was not to be thought of, and a dead pause ensued. "Leave us, Mademoiselle Lacroix!" cried Madame de Valricour vehemently.
The baroness fancied she knew Isidore better even than he knew himself, and secretly rejoiced to find his visits to Valricour become more and more frequent, and his walks in the forest with Clotilde, accompanied by Marguerite for propriety's sake, more and more prolonged. At last she thought the pear was ripe, and she took a decided step in order to bring the affair to an issue.
Perhaps in all the west of France there was no tract of country in which this season was more peculiarly attractive, or could present a more charming landscape, than that overlooked from the terrace of the old Chateau de Valricour. It was, however, of the class not appreciated by those who hold that there is no real beauty, properly so called, except in rugged, wild, and romantic scenery.
To their surprise, however, no Madame Valricour descended from the vehicle, but they noticed that in addition to madame's coachman and footman it was accompanied by one of the Beaujardin servants on horseback, a not unusual precaution when persons of note travelled after dusk, although one which the state of her household and stable mostly obliged the baroness to dispense with.
With your permission I will relieve you of my presence, and will desire Jasmin to order our horses that I may return at once to Beaujardin." Without giving Madame de Valricour time for any further comment, Isidore then bowed to her and withdrew.
Let us see what came of it. Whether or not there was in that part of France a more charming view than that from the terrace of the Chateau de Valricour, there certainly was not in all France on that bright May morning a more happy pair than the two young people who sat side by side, each clasping the other's hand, in one of the pleasant trellised arbours which from either end of the terrace overlooked the pleasant scene.
Perhaps the Chateau d'Yquem loosened M. Jasmin's tongue, for he had latterly been staying much at Valricour, and as the wine allowed that household was of a quality and quantity that gave an additional relish to unstinted measure and a vintage of the choicest class, he became more and more communicative. "To be sure to be sure!
As he said this, poor Jean shuddered at the thought of those terrible words about the lettre de cachet. Perhaps the innkeeper's words reminded Isidore that his uncle, the Baron de Valricour, or possibly the Marquis de Montcalm himself, might yet do something for him, if indeed anything could be done. At all events it was useless to hope for aid from anyone in France.
But this effort, coupled with the sudden revulsion of feeling produced by the unexpected promise, proved too much for him, and poor Réné Lacroix fell back upon his pillow to rise no more. For a brief space Valricour, and a young officer who had shared with him the task of watching by the bedside of his comrade, remained absorbed in mournful silence.
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