"Well, I can not speak for Gabrielle, who maintains a determined silence, but I should like to leave France for Switzerland--Monsieur Rochas's birthplace--about the middle of May."

"A fortnight would be ample time to accomplish all the formalities."

"Let us say a fortnight, then. I will leave it to you young people to fix the precise day; still I shall forthwith announce this great event to Monsieur Rochas, who will feel very glad I'm sure; and that young rogue, Albert, will condescend, I hope, to lead his sister to the altar."

"Are you not afraid that your son may be displeased at not being consulted?" inquired George.

"My son has no voice in the matter."

"And he loves me too well not to rejoice at my happiness," added Gabrielle, quickly. "He will be our best friend."

"Well, if he goes on as he has begun, you are not likely to see much of him," said Madame Verdon, gaily. "But how about your friend, Monsieur de Puymirol? I hope he will act as your best man, or at least as one of your witnesses on your marriage-day. He is a very handsome young fellow, and as you two are inseparable, I hear, I hope you will soon introduce him to us."

"Certainly," murmured George. "I haven't seen him to-day, but I shall meet him this evening, no doubt, and--"

"Oh, I can very readily understand why you did not bring him with you, this morning," interrupted Madame Verdon. "On such an occasion the most intimate friends are in the way. But, speaking of intimate friends, I must tell you that there is a person whom you will see a great deal of when Gabrielle becomes your wife, for he cannot bear her out of his sight. That is our worthy friend, Roch Plancoet."

George gave the ladies a questioning look as if asking what was the nature of the bond that united this stranger to Mademoiselle Verdon.

"Roch was my father's foster-brother," said Gabrielle, prompted, probably, by a desire to rea.s.sure her lover. "They were brought up together, and after my father's death, he could not make up his mind to abandon my brother and myself, for he had been deeply attached to us from our infancy. When we came to Paris, he came here as well. He is a most devoted friend, but he is painfully shy. You have never yet seen him, and never will see him, in my mother's drawing-room, but not a day pa.s.ses without his coming to the house to spend an hour or two with me, and he would go through fire and water to spare me pain. He is old enough to be my father, and he loves me as if I were really his daughter."

"Yes, you are a great favourite with him," said Madame Verdon, "but every one is not fortunate enough to be in his good graces. He is very fond of your brother, too, but he is not at all partial to me, and I am quite sure that he does not like Monsieur Rochas. By the way, Gabrielle, I am surprised that we have seen nothing of him since yesterday morning--"

"So I have found you at last," at this moment cried a clear, ringing voice that made all three of the party glance up hastily. "I have been looking for you fully three quarters of an hour. I met Roch at your door, and he told me you must be here."

"Albert!" exclaimed the young girl, springing up and flinging her arms about the neck of her brother, who embraced her heartily in return. "We have been so uneasy about you!" she cried. "Where have you been, you bad fellow?"

"Oh, I had to dine with some comrades, of course. It would not be worth while winning a prize, if one didn't celebrate one's good fortune by a dinner afterwards."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Madame Verdon. "Confess that you have been dancing attendance upon the damsel who threw you some violets."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean, mamma," replied the young lieutenant, frowning.

"Oh, well, we will say no more about it," rejoined Madame Verdon. "You are no longer a schoolboy, and I have no right to keep you tied to my ap.r.o.n strings, but if I were your colonel, I should put you under arrest. But I have two pieces of news for you. First, however, allow me to introduce Monsieur George Caumont, who will soon be your brother-in-law. We were just deciding upon the wedding-day."

Albert instantly became serious, but a questioning glance which he gave Gabrielle elicited from her a happy smile. "Do you remember what I wrote to you last winter?" she asked. "It is true I did not mention any names, but--"

"I should think I did remember!" exclaimed the young officer, "and I was going to inquire about the happy man this very day. As it is this gentleman, I must ask him to shake hands with me. I trust we shall be good friends."

"I sincerely hope so," replied George, cordially shaking the lieutenant's proffered hand.

"You don't belong to the army?" resumed Albert.

"No, indeed," exclaimed Madame Verdon. "Monsieur Caumont is just completing his law studies. His father is a landed proprietor in Normandy."

"Well, Monsieur Caumont pleases Gabrielle, and that is enough for me, mamma. If he didn't, I would not take him for a brother-in-law."

"My preference has always been for marriages of inclination," replied Madame Verdon; "love matches, if you like--and you will need no better proof of that than my announcement of my own approaching marriage with Monsieur Jacques Rochas." Albert turned pale, but did not say a word. It was evident that he was making a violent effort to control himself.

"Monsieur Rochas was your guardian," continued Madame Verdon, drily, "and for ten years he has been almost one of the family. Our marriage is a settled thing, and nothing that you can say, will make any difference.

However, Gabrielle's wedding is the first thing to be considered. I expect it will take place in about a fortnight's time."

"And yours, mother?" asked Albert.

"Mine will come off next month, in Switzerland, probably. On my return to France, I shall live in the country, and very quietly."

"That will be best," remarked Albert, gravely.

George began to look very uncomfortable, and Gabrielle had tears in her eyes. "I am sorry to leave you, my dear Monsieur Caumont," now said the mother, "but it is growing chilly, and my daughter and I must return home. Remember, however, that from this time forth our home is yours. I leave you with my son, whom you ought to convert to a sensible way of thinking."

Madame Verdon rose up as she spoke, and Gabrielle followed her, but not until she had given her brother and her lover a meaning glance. The two young fellows, on being left alone, strolled towards a cafe at Albert's suggestion, and while quaffing a gla.s.s of beer, they began to chat like two old friends. Albert, who showed himself remarkably communicative, related his adventures with Mademoiselle Blanche p.o.r.nic, beginning with the horse-show and winding up with the announcement that he had dined with her on the previous evening at the Lion d'Or.

"At the Lion d'Or! that's singular," muttered George, thinking of the lunch ordered by Dargental, and at which Blanche had figured so prominently.

"Why is it singular? It seems to be a very popular restaurant. We had scarcely sat down when in came a gentleman whom Blanche knew, and whose name she told me--a Monsieur de Puymirol."

"Puymirol! are you sure that you are not mistaken in the name?" cried George. This was the first news that he had received of his friend for twenty-four hours, and it seemed strange that tidings should reach him in such a roundabout way.

"Perfectly sure, for Blanche told me an interesting story in connection with this gentleman. He was the intimate friend, it seems, of a Monsieur Dargental who was murdered a fortnight or so ago."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yes, and a deal more. She pretends to think that the gentleman in question was murdered by one of his old flames--a Countess de Les...o...b..t, whom she seems to hate. I even suspect that they must once have been rivals. But is this story really true? I never saw anything about it in the newspapers."

"There is this much truth in it: Dargental was killed by a pistol shot, but no one knows who fired it."

"I certainly hope it wasn't Blanche. That would rather dampen my ardour.

Would you believe it, my dear fellow, she wanted me to pay a visit to this countess and threaten her, but of course, I refused."

"Threaten her with what?"

"I didn't very clearly understand. It was something about some letters that Blanche had written, and which had fallen into the hands of the countess. Blanche wants to regain possession of them, and she seemed to think that I could a.s.sist her in obtaining them. However, I told her very plainly that the mission did not suit me, and then she insisted no further. On the contrary, we parted the best friends in the world."

"Well, believe me, I don't speak lightly; but I advise you to have nothing more to do with Blanche p.o.r.nic. She is a very attractive woman, but there are plenty of others equally charming; besides, there are circ.u.mstances that render any intimacy with her undesirable, and even dangerous just now. Dargental's tragical death has created a good deal of talk, and the authorities have begun an investigation. I know that Blanche has been questioned already, and maybe she may still be implicated in the affair."

"Hum! that would be serious; but excuse me, I see over there a worthy man whom I wish to introduce to you--Roch Plancoet, my poor father's foster brother."

"Madame Verdon just spoke of him to me."

"Then you already know that he is the best friend we have in the world.

He has been devoted to my sister and myself from our earliest infancy.

He might have made a fortune in the business--he was in a fair way of doing so--but he has come to live in Paris on an income of six thousand francs a year, because he couldn't exist without seeing Gabrielle. We will have a chat with him if you don't mind. Here, Plancoet!" The promenader looked up, recognised Albert, and hastened towards him. "How are you, old fellow?" asked the young lieutenant, slapping him familiarly on the shoulder. "You must take a gla.s.s of beer with us. Sit down. Do you see this gentleman? Well, he is Gabrielle's intended husband."

M. Plancoet did not seem to be very much surprised by this abrupt announcement, but he looked searchingly at George, who returned the scrutiny with interest. This faithful friend of the Verdon family seemed to be about fifty years of age, and he was still strong and hearty. His strong features bespoke unusual energy, and strength of mind. His eyes were keen and intelligent, and his smile had much of the patient sweetness of a man accustomed to sacrifice himself for others. In short, his appearance was decidedly prepossessing, and George instantly conceived a strong liking to him. "I trust, sir," he said, almost affectionately, "that Mademoiselle Verdon's marriage will not part you from her. You will always be most welcome at my wife's house."

"I thank you for this a.s.surance," replied M. Plancoet, quietly but earnestly, "though I must admit that I was not unprepared for it.

Gabrielle has so often spoken of you, and always in such high terms, that I relied as implicitly upon your hospitality as you can rely upon my devotion."

"Monsieur Caumont doesn't doubt that, my dear Roch," interposed Albert.

"I have told him all about you. But I have another piece of news for you--one that is much less agreeable in its nature."