"It is for me, mademoiselle," said François eagerly; and Clotilde left the room murmuring,—
"He calls me mademoiselle, which is very nice; but he is as solemn as if we assisted at his father's funeral."
The abbé's note ran thus:—
"MONSIEUR MY HONORED PUPIL,—I have the pleasure of announcing that the Vicomte de Montarnaud is not so dangerously wounded as was at first feared, and bids fair to recover under the careful tendance of Mademoiselle Valerie, her governess, and old Marie, all of whom are constant at his bedside. But I cannot advise you to return hither at present; for the comte is far more enraged at the delay in presenting himself, with his son and Mademoiselle de Rochenbois, before the king, than at the danger to his son's life; and would, could he lay hands upon you, make you suffer severely for his annoyance, and possible disgrace at court.
"Nor have I any better news to give you of Mademoiselle Valerie, who seems in a state of mingled grief and irritability very difficult to encounter. I ventured to ask this morning if she had a message for you; and she only replied, Bid him keep out of the way, if he wishes to please me; and when I again asked if she would not write a line to comfort you in your exile, she sharply inquired, since when priests had made it their duty to act as go-betweens for lovers? The question touched me sharply, monsieur, and I turned away without reply.
"In conclusion, I can only recommend you on all accounts, your own, Monsieur le Comte's, Mademoiselle Valerie's, and even my own, if you will allow me to mention it, to remain strictly hidden, at least until I come to you, which will be in two or three days at latest. I send you a packet containing some clothes, your dressing-case, your own table-service, and some books, among them the Satires of Horace which we were lately reading, and which you may find congenial to your present mood; also the Imitation of Christ, a work more
