“Thank you,” said Ernanton, who saw that the man either could or would say no more.

He found Bel-Esbat easily, and without more inquiries, rang, and the door opened.

“Enter,” said a man, who then seemed to wait for some password, but as Ernanton did not give any, he asked him what he wanted.

“I wish to speak to Madame la Duchesse de Montpensier.”

“And why do you come here for her?”

“Because the porter at the Hotel Guise sent me here.”

“Madame la Duchesse is not here.”

“That is unlucky, as it will prevent me from fulfilling the mission with which M. de Mayenne charged me.”

“For Madame la Duchesse?”

“Yes.”

“From M. le Duc de Mayenne?”

“Yes.”

The valet reflected a moment.  “Monsieur,” said he, “I cannot answer; there is some one else whom I must consult.  Please to wait.”

“These people are well served,” thought Ernanton.  “Certainly, they must be dangerous people who think it necessary to hide themselves in this manner.  One cannot enter a house of the Guises as you can the Louvre.  I begin to think that it is not the true king of France whom I serve.”

He looked round him; the courtyard was deserted, but all the doors of the stables were open, as if they expected some troop to enter and take up their quarters.  He was interrupted by the return of the valet, followed by another.

“Leave me your horse, monsieur,” said he, “and follow my comrade; you will find some one who can answer you much better than I can.”

Ernanton followed the valet, and was shown into a little room, where a simply though elegantly dressed lady was seated at an embroidery frame.

“Here is the gentleman from M. de Mayenne, madame,” said the servant.

She turned, and Ernanton uttered a cry of surprise.

“You, madame!” cried he, recognizing at once his page and the lady of the litter.

“You!” cried the lady in her turn, letting her work drop, and looking at Ernanton.

“Leave us,” said she to the valet.

“You are of the household of Madame de Montpensier, madame?” said Ernanton.

“Yes; but you, monsieur, how do you bring here a message from the Duc de Mayenne?”

“Through unforeseen circumstances, which it would take too long to repeat,” replied Ernanton, cautiously.

“Oh! you are discreet, monsieur,” said the lady, smiling.

“Yes, madame, whenever it is right to be so.”

“But I see no occasion for your discretion here; for, if you really bring a message from the person you say—­Oh! do not look angry; if you really do, I say, it interests me sufficiently that, in remembrance of our acquaintance, short though it was, you should tell it to me.”

The lady threw into these words all the caressing and seductive grace that a pretty woman can.

“Madame,” replied Ernanton, “you cannot make me tell what I do not know.”