“What excuse, Monsieur?” she asked.  She was smiling, yet looking at us with shining eyes.

“The pleasure of having Mr. Ritchie get me out,” he answered.  “He has never failed me.”

“You are far from being out of this,” I said.  “If the Baron de Carondelet does not hang you or put you in the Morro, you will not have me to thank.  It will be Madame la Vicomtesse d’Ivry-le-Tour.”

“Madame la Vicomtesse!” exclaimed Nick, puzzled.

“May I present to you, Madame, Mr. Nicholas Temple?” I asked.

Nick bowed, and she courtesied again.

“So Monsieur le Baron is really after us,” said Nick.  He opened his eyes, slapped his knee, and laughed.  “That may account for the Citizen Captain de St. Gre’s absence,” he said.  “By the way, Davy, you haven’t happened by any chance to meet him?”

The Vicomtesse and I exchanged a look of understanding.  Relief was plain on her face.  It was she who answered.

“We have met him—­by chance, Monsieur.  He has just left for Terre aux Boeufs.”

“Terre aux Boeufs!  What the dev—­I beg your pardon, Madame la Vicomtesse, but you give me something of a surprise.  Is there another conspiracy at Terre aux Boeufs, or—­does somebody live there who has never before lent Auguste money?”

Madame la Vicomtesse laughed.  Then she grew serious again.

“You did not know where he had gone?” she said.

“I did not even know he had gone,” said Nick.  “Citizen Lamarque and I were having a little game of piquet—­for vegetables.  Eh, citizen?”

Madame la Vicomtesse laughed again, and once more the shade of sadness came into her eyes.

“They are the same the world over,” she said,—­not to me, nor yet to any one there.  And I knew that she was thinking of her own kind in France, who faced the guillotine without sense of danger.  She turned to Nick.  “You may be interested to know, Mr. Temple,” she added, “that Auguste is on his way to the English Turn to take ship for France.”

Nick regarded her for a moment, and then his face lighted up with that smile which won every one he met, which inevitably made them smile back at him.

“The news is certainly unexpected, Madame,” he said.  “But then, after one has travelled much with Auguste it is difficult to take a great deal of interest in him.  Am I to be sent to France, too?” he asked.

“Not if it can be helped,” replied the Vicomtesse, seriously.  “Mr. Ritchie will tell you, however, that you are in no small danger.  Doubtless you know it.  Monsieur le Baron de Carondelet considers that the intrigues of the French Revolutionists in Louisiana have already robbed him of several years of his life.  He is not disposed to be lenient towards persons connected with that cause.”

“What have you been doing since you arrived here on this ridiculous mission?” I demanded impatiently.

“My cousin is a narrow man, Madame la Vicomtesse,” said Nick.  “We enjoy ourselves in different ways.  I thought there might be some excitement in this matter, and I was sadly mistaken.”