“He who assisted my father at his last moments?” asked Charles, evidently affected at the remembrance.

“The same, sire.”

“Alas!” said Charles; and then addressing Grimaud, whose penetrating and intelligent eyes seemed to search and divine his thoughts. — ”My friend,” said he, “does your master, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, live in this neighborhood?”

“There,” replied Grimaud, pointing with his outstretched arm to the white-and-red house behind the gate.

“And is Monsieur le Comte de la Fere at home at present?”

“At the back, under the chestnut trees.”