"
The attention of every gentleman at the table was roused by the
words of the Count. But La Corne St. Luc could not repress his
feelings. He sprang up, striking the table with the palm of his
hand until it sounded like the shot of a petronel.
"By St. Christopher the Strong!" exclaimed he, "I would cheerfully
have lost a limb rather than heard such a tale told by my dear old
friend and comrade, about that angelic child of his, whom I have
carried in my arms like a lamb of God many and many a time!
"You know, gentlemen, what befell her!" The old soldier looked as
if he could annihilate the Intendant with the lightning of his eyes.
"I affirm and will maintain that no saint in heaven was holier in
her purity than she was in her fall! Chevalier Bigot, it is for you
to answer these despatches! This is your work! If Caroline de St.
Castin be lost, you know where to find her!"
Bigot started up in a rage mingled with fear, not of La Corne St.
Luc, but lest the secret of Caroline's concealment at Beaumanoir
should become known.
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