Peste! It is not the only distinction, for while he basks in the sunshine of the great world of Paris--they are wealthy, the Mironsacs of Castelvert--I, a poor devil of a Gascony cadet, am playing the catchpoll in Languedoc!" I looked at him with fresh interest, for the mention of that dear lad Mironsac brought back to my mind the night in Paris on which my ill-starred wager had been laid, and I was reminded of how that high-minded youth had sought--when it was too late to reason me out of the undertaking by alluding to the dishonour with which in his honest eyes it must be fraught.
We spoke of his cousin--Castelroux and I--and I went so far now as to confess that I had some love for the youth, whom I praised in unmistakable terms.

This inclined to increase the friendliness which my young Captain had manifested since my arrest, and I was presently emboldened by it to beg of him to add to the many favours that I already owed him by returning to me the portrait which his men had subtracted from my pocket.

It was my wish to return this to Marsac, whilst at the same time it would afford corroboration of my story.
To this Castelroux made no difficulty.
"Why, yes," said he, and he produced it.

"I crave your pardon for not having done the thing of my own accord.

What can the Keeper of the Seals want with that picture ?" I thanked him, and pocketed the locket.
"Poor lady!" he sighed, a note of compassion in his voice.