But he went no farther than Blois, where he hired himself a room at the Lys de France.

The Chevalier hated him as a mad dog hates water--almost as much as he hated you.

He spoke often of you, and always bitterly." Before I knew what I had said-- "And Mademoiselle ?" I burst out.

"Did she ever mention my name ?" Malpertuis looked up quickly at the question, and a wan smile flickered round his lips.
"Once she spoke of you to me--pityingly, as one might speak of a dead man whose life had not been good." "Yes, yes," I broke in.

"It matters little.