Madame's lips formed for a spiteful utterance, but what she said was:

"Prison life has aged you."

"Aged me, Madame?" reproachfully. "I grow old? Never. I have found

the elixir of life."

"You will give me the recipe?" softening.

"You already possess it."

"I? Pray, explain."

"We who have the faculty of learning, without the use of books, of

refusing to take life seriously, of forgetting injuries,--we never grow

old. We simply die."

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A third person would have enjoyed this blundering, unconscious irony

which in no wise disturbed madame.

"The recipe is this," continued Beaufort: "enjoy the hours as they

come; borrow not in advance, but spend the hour you have; shake the

past from the shoulders like a worn-out cloak; laugh at and with your

enemies; and be sure you have enemies, or life's without salt."

Madame gazed dreamily at the picture-lined walls. She smiled,

recalling some happy souvenir. Presently she asked: "And who is this

Chevalier du Cévennes?"

"A capital soldier, a gay fellow, rich and extravagant. I do not know

him intimately, but I should like to. I knew his father well. The

Marquis de Périgny was . . ."

"The Marquis de Périgny!" interrupted the duchess, half rising from her

seat. "Do you mean to tell me that the Chevalier du Cévennes is the

son of the Marquis de Périgny?" For a moment her mind was confused; so

many recollections awoke to life at the mention of this name. "The

Marquis de Périgny!"

Beaufort smiled. "Yes. Do you not recall the gay and brilliant

marquis of fifteen years ago?"

Madame colored. "You said that the past should be shaken from the

shoulders like a worn-out cloak."

"True. Ah, but that mad marquis!" reminiscently. "What a man he must

have been in his youth! A fatalist, for I have seen him walk into the

enemy's fire, laughing. Handsome? Too handsome. Courage? He was

always fighting; he was a lion. How we youngsters applauded him! He

told Richelieu to his face that he would be delighted to have him visit

Périgny and dance the saraband before his peasant girls. He was always

breaking the edicts, and but for the king he would have spent most of

his time in the Bastille. He hasn't been to court in ten years."

"And is this son handsome?"

"Handsome and rich, with the valor of a Crillon. The daughter of a

Montbazon would never look at a clod. . . . Monks of Touraine!" he

ejaculated. "I remember now. I have seen her. Madame, I compliment

you."

"Beaufort, believe me when I say that my daughter and the Chevalier du

Cévennes have never met face to face. I am in a position to know.

Since presentation Gabrielle has not been to court, unless it has been

without my knowledge. Certainly the motive must have been robbery."




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