am Mademoiselle de Malincourt's foster sister and friend, Lucette de Boisdegarde; and I am on my way to tell her of this discovery of mine and other things. You bar my path, monsieur," she said with dignity, as Pascal in some dismay put himself before her. "If you are in truth a servant, I order you to stand aside; if you are a gentleman, I ask you."
"If I detain you a moment, it is only to assure you that Mdlle. de Malincourt and yourself can have no more faithful friend and well-wisher than myself."
"Your name, monsieur?"
"Pascal de—Pascal Tourelle, at your service."
She was quick to see the slip, and pressed home a thrust at once.
"On your honour?"
"Pascal, on my honour; Tourelle, during my service with my master."
She smiled, partly at the evasion, but more at his manner of making it.
"If you were not in this service of which you speak so readily, how would you have finished that sentence? Pascal de—what?"
"That is my unhappy secret, mademoiselle; I beg your consideration," and his tone suggested a melancholy trouble.
But Lucette smiled.
"Had you been a servant truly, your honour would not have stayed you from deceiving me. If I do not go now to mademoiselle, will you tell me all you know of this M. de Cobalt?"
"I will tell you this, on my honour, and your honour will prevent your asking more," he answered after a moment's consideration. "A braver soldier, a more honourable knight, a more gallant gentleman, never trod this earth than he in whose service you now find me."
She looked at him searchingly, and believed him. But
