“And now,” he said, “I take it that there are no further conscientious scruples against my receiving this paltry sum.”

“I will go with you to your pirogue,” I answered, “when you embark you shall have it.”

“I, too, will go,” said Madame la Vicomtesse.

“You overwhelm me with civility, Madame,” said the Sieur de St. Gre, bowing low.

“Lead the way, Monsieur,” I said.

He took his bundle, and started off down the garden path with a grand air.  I looked at the Vicomtesse inquiringly, and there was laughter in her eyes.

“I must show you the way to Lamarque’s.”  And then she whispered, “You have done well, Mr. Ritchie.”

I did not return her look, but waited until she took the path ahead of me.  In silence we followed Auguste through the depths of the woods, turning here and there to avoid a fallen tree or a sink-hole where the water still remained.  At length we came out in the glare of the sun and crossed the dusty road to the levee bank.  Some forty yards below us was the canoe, and we walked to it, still in silence.  Auguste flung in his bundle, and turned to us.

“Perhaps Monsieur is satisfied,” he said.

I handed him the bag, and he took it with an elaborate air of thankfulness.  Nay, the rascal opened it as if to assure himself that he was not tricked at the last.  At the sight of the gold and silver which Antoinette had hastily collected, he turned to Madame la Vicomtesse.

“Should I have the good fortune to meet Monsieur le Vicomte in France, I shall assure him that Madame is in good hands” (he swept an exultant look at me) “and enjoying herself.”

I could have flung him into the river, money-bag and all.  But Madame la Vicomtesse made him a courtesy there on the levee bank, and said sweetly:—­

“That is very good of you, Auguste.”

“As for you, Monsieur,” he said, and now his voice shook with uncontrolled rage, “I am in no condition to repay your kindnesses.  But I have no doubt that you will not object to keeping the miniature a while longer.”

I was speechless with anger and shame, and though I felt the eyes of the Vicomtesse upon me, I dared not look at her.  I heard Auguste but indistinctly as he continued:—­

“Should you need the frame, Monsieur, you will doubtless find it still with Monsieur Isadore, the Jew, in the Rue Toulouse.”  With that he leaped into his boat, seized the paddle, and laughed as he headed into the current.  How long I stood watching him as he drifted lazily in the sun I know not, but at length the voice of Madame la Vicomtesse aroused me.

“He is a pleasant person,” she said.

CHAPTER VIII

AT LAMARQUE’S

Until then it seemed as if the sun had gotten into my brain and set it on fire.  Her words had the strange effect of clearing my head, though I was still in as sad a predicament as ever I found myself.  There was the thing in my pocket, still wrapped in Polly Ann’s handkerchief.  I glanced at the Vicomtesse shyly, and turned away again.  Her face was all repressed laughter, the expression I knew so well.