The day before that on which we were to return to Loches, Marc and I went on to one of the terraces which overlooked the road, to shoot our bows and arrows. All of a sudden Marc cried out, “Hollo! here’s Ulysses! what does he come for, I wonder?”

Ulysses was one of the gendarmes belonging to the brigade at Loches. I was leaning on the railing: Ulysses came up to us at a hard gallop.

“Hollo! Ulysses, how d’ye do?” cried Marc.

Ulysses raised his head, looked at us, and nodded. “Is your papa at home?” he asked Marc.

“Yes,” answered Marc, “he is.”

Off went the gendarme at a trot, and in another minute we saw him turn to the left and enter the great gate of the courtyard of Bois-Clair. When he turned to leave us I noticed that he carried a small yellow leather bag at his back. I watched it jumping up and down as the horse trotted. Ah! if I had only known what that little yellow bag contained!

Fran?ois soon came out to tell us that luncheon was ready. W............