“He has, indeed, lost them.”  The vicomte seemed far away in thought.

“Forty thousand livres?” murmured Brother Jacques.  He also forgot those around him.  Forty thousand livres, and he had never called one hundred his own!

“Monsieur,” repeated the major, “can you account for the Chevalier’s strange behavior?”

“I can,” said the vicomte, “but I refuse.  There are looser tongues than mine.  I will say this:  the Chevalier will never enter his father’s house again, either here, in Paris, or in Perigny.  There is hot blood in that family; it clashed to-night; that is all.  Be good to the Chevalier, Messieurs; let him go to Quebec, for he can not remain in France.”

“Has he committed a crime?” asked Du Puys anxiously.

“No, Major,” carelessly, “but it seems that some one else has.”

“And the Chevalier is shielding him?” asked Brother Jacques.

The vicomte gazed down at the young Jesuit, and smiled contemptuously.  “Is he shielding some one, you ask?  I do not say so.  But keep your Jesuit ears open; you will hear something to-morrow.”  Noting with satisfaction the color on Brother Jacques’s cheeks, the vicomte turned to Captain Bouchard.  “I have determined to take a cabin to Quebec, Monsieur.  I have some land near Montreal which I wish to investigate.”

“You, Monsieur?” said the sailor.  “The only cabin-room left is next to mine, and expensive.”

“I will pay you in advance.  I must go to Quebec.  I can not wait.”

“Very well, Monsieur.”

The vicomte went to the door of the private assembly and knocked boldly.  Victor answered the summons.

“D’Halluys?” cried Victor, stepping back.

“Yes, Monsieur.  Pardon the intrusion, but I have something to say to Monsieur le Chevalier.”

He bared his head, looked serenely into Victor’s doubting eyes, and turned to the Chevalier, whose face was without any sign of welcome or displeasure.  “Monsieur,” the vicomte began, “it is very embarrassing—­Patience, Monsieur de Saumaise!” for Victor had laid his hand upon his sword; “my errand is purely pacific.  It is very embarrassing, then, to approach a man so deeply in trouble as yourself.  I know not what madness seized you to-night.  I am not here to offer you sympathy; sympathy is cheap consolation.  I am here to say that no man shall in my presence speak lightly of your misfortune.  Let me be frank with you.  I have often envied your success in Paris; and there were times when this envy was not unmixed with hate.  But a catastrophe like that to-night wipes out such petty things as envy and hate.”

“Take care, Monsieur,” said Victor haughtily.  He believed that he caught an undercurrent of raillery.

“Why, Monsieur, what have I said?” looking from one to the other.

“Proceed, Vicomte,” said the Chevalier, motioning Victor to be quiet.  He was curious to learn what the vicomte had to say.