“God help me,” he answered simply, “I do care.”

Helene’s eyes softened as she looked at him, and my pride in him was never greater than at that moment.

“Mr. Temple,” she said gently, “remain where you are and have faith in us.  I begin to see now why you are so fortunate in your friends.”  Her glance rested for a brief instant on me.  “Mr. Ritchie and I will go to New Orleans, talk to the Baron, and send Andre at once with a message.  If it is in our power, you shall see your mother very soon.”

She held out her hand to him, and he bent and kissed it reverently, with an ease I envied.  He followed us to the door.  And when the Vicomtesse had gone a little way down the path she looked at him over her shoulder.

“Do not despair, Mr. Temple,” she said.

It was an answer to a yearning in his face.  He gripped me by the shoulders.

“God bless you, Davy,” he whispered, and added, “God bless you both.”

I overtook her where the path ran into the forest’s shade, and for a long while I walked after her, not breaking her silence, my eyes upon her, a strange throbbing in my forehead which I did not heed.  At last, when the perfumes of the flowers told us we were nearing the garden, she turned to me.

“I like Mr. Temple,” she said, again.

“He is an honest gentleman,” I answered.

“One meets very few of them,” she said, speaking in a low voice.  “You and I will go to the Governor.  And after that, have you any idea where you will go?”

“No,” I replied, troubled by her regard.

“Then I will tell you.  I intend to send you to Madame Gravois’s, and she will compel you to go to bed and rest.  I do not mean to allow you to kill yourself.”

CHAPTER IX

MONSIEUR LE BARON

The sun beat down mercilessly on thatch and terrace, the yellow walls flung back the quivering heat, as Madame la Vicomtesse and I walked through the empty streets towards the Governor’s house.  We were followed by Andre and Madame’s maid.  The sleepy orderly started up from under the archway at our approach, bowed profoundly to Madame, looked askance at me, and declared, with a thousand regrets, that Monsieur le Baron was having his siesta.

“Then you will wake him,” said Madame la Vicomtesse.

Wake Monsieur le Baron!  Bueno Dios, did Madame understand what it meant to wake his Excellency?  His Excellency would at first be angry, no doubt.  Angry?  As an Andalusian bull, Madame.  Once, when his Excellency had first come to the province, he, the orderly, had presumed to awake him.

“Assez!” said Madame, so suddenly that the man straightened and looked at her again.  “You will wake Monsieur le Baron, and tell him that Madame la Vicomtesse d’Ivry-le-Tour has something of importance to say to him.”