I looked over Croisette's shoulder, and read the letter.

It began abruptly without any term of address, and ran thus, "I have a mission in Paris, Mademoiselle, which admits of no delay, your mission, as well as my own--to see Pavannes.

You have won his heart.

It is yours, and I will bring it you, or his right hand in token that he has yielded up his claim to yours.

And to this I pledge myself." The thing bore no signature.