“But, madame, supposing that I do accept your generous offer, they will come and find me here.”

“Not at all.  There is in this pavilion, which was formerly the abode of a nobleman’s left-handed wife,—­you see, sir,” said Adrienne, smiling, “that live in a very profane place—­there is here a secret place of concealment, so wonderfully well-contrived, that it can defy all searches.  Georgette will conduct you to it.  You will be very well accommodated.  You will even be able to write some verses for me, if the place inspire you.”

“Oh, madame! how great is your goodness! how have I merited it?”

“Oh, sir, I will tell you.  Admitting that your character and your position do not entitle you to any interest;—­admitting that I may not owe a sacred debt to your father for the touching regards and cares he has bestowed upon the daughters of Marshal Simon, my relations—­do you forget Frisky, sir?” asked Adrienne, laughing,—­“Frisky, there, whom you have restored to my fondles?  Seriously, if I laugh,” continued this singular and extravagant creature, “it is because I know that you are entirely out of danger, and that I feel an increase of happiness.  Therefore, sir, write for me quickly your address, and your mother’s, in this pocket-book; follow Georgette; and spin me some pretty verses, if you do not bore yourself too much in that prison to which you fly.”

While Georgette conducted the blacksmith to the hiding-place, Hebe brought her mistress a small gray beaver hat with a gray feather; for Adrienne had to cross the park to reach the house occupied by the Princess Saint-Dizier.

A quarter of an hour after this scene, Florine entered mysteriously the apartment of Mrs. Grivois, the first woman of the princess.

“Well?” demanded Mrs. Grivois of the young woman.

“Here are the notes which I have taken this morning,” said Florine, putting a paper into the duenna’s hand.  “Happily, I have a good memory.”

“At what time exactly did she return home this morning?” asked the duenna, quickly.

“Who, madame?”

“Miss Adrienne.”

“She did not go out, madame.  We put her in the bath at nine o’clock.”

“But before nine o’clock she came home, after having passed the night out of her house.  Eight o’clock was the time at which she returned, however.”

Florine looked at Mrs. Grivois with profound astonishment, and said-"I do not understand you, madame.”

“What’s that?  Madame did not come home this morning at eight o’clock?  Dare you lie?”

“I was ill yesterday, and did not come down till nine this morning, in order to assist Georgette and Hebe help our young lady from the bath.  I know nothing of what passed previously, I swear to you, madame.”

“That alters the case.  You must ferret out what I allude to from your companions.  They don’t distrust you, and will tell you all.”

“Yes, madame.”