It was a delicate note, to which still hung the ghost of a perfume; there were no arms on the seal, but the writing I took to be that of my aunt, the Duchesse de Chevreuse, and vaguely marvelling what motive she could have had for communicating with me, I cut the silk.
It was, indeed, from the Duchesse, but it contained no more than a request that I should visit her at her hotel on the day following upon that on which she had written, adding that she had pleasing news for me.
I thrust the note into my pocket with a sigh.

Of what could it avail me now to present myself at her hotel?
Her invitation was for a month ago.
Since then she would likely enough have heard the rumour that had been current, and would have ceased to expect me.
I caught myself wondering whether the news might have caused her a pang of regret, and somehow methought this possible.

For of all my relatives, Madame de Chevreuse was the only one--and she was but my aunt by marriage--who of late years had shown me any kindness, or even recognition.

I marvelled what her pleasing news could be, and I concluded that probably she had heard of my difficulties, and wished once again to help me out of them.

Well, my purse was hollow, indeed, at the moment, but I need not trouble her, since I was going somewhere where purses are not needed--on a journey to which no expenses are attached.
In my heart, nevertheless, I blessed the gracious lady, who, for all the lies that the world may have told of her, was the kindest woman I had known, and the best--save one other.
I was still musing when Michelot returned with the information that M.
de Montresor was to be found at the Hotel des Cloches, whither he had gone to sup a few minutes before.