“Who are you?” She asked innocently. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. After all, she was a consummate actress. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features.
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