"I have a louis at home," said I; and I felt Coquelin lay his hand on my head.
"What was the matter with the husband?" he asked.
"Mon Dieu!" said my aunt, glancing round at the bed. "I don't know."
Coquelin looked at her, half amazed, half worshipping.
"Who are they, these people? What are they?" she asked.
"Mademoiselle," said Coquelin, fervently, "you're an angel!"
"I wish I were," said Mlle. de Bergerac, simply; and she turned to the old mother.
We walked home together,—the curé with Mlle. de Chalais and me, and Mlle. de Bergerac in front with Coquelin. Asking how the two young girls had found their way to the deathbed we had just left, I learned from Mlle. de Chalais that they had set out for a stroll together, and, striking into a footpath across the fields, had gone farther than they supposed, and lost their way. While they were
