ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER

By Rafael Sabatini

Originally published in 1921

CONTENTS

 I. THE SENESCHAL OF DAUPHINY II. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE III. THE DOWAGER'S COMPLIANCE IV. THE CHATEAU DE CONDILLAC V. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LOSES HIS TEMPER VI. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE KEEPS HIS TEMPER VII. THE OPENING OF THE TRAP VIII. THE CLOSING OF THE TRAP IX. THE SENESCHAL'S ADVICE X. THE RECRUIT XI. VALERIE'S GAOLER XII. A MATTER OF CONSCIENCE XIII. THE COURIER XIV. FLORIMOND'S LETTER XV. THE CONFERENCE XVI. THE UNEXPECTED XVII. HOW MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LEFT CONDILLAC XVIII. IN THE MOAT XIX. THROUGH THE NIGHT XX. FLORIMOND DE CONDILLAC XXI. THE GHOST IN THE CUPBOARD XXII. THE OFFICES OF MOTHER CHURCH XXIII. THE JUDGMENT OF GARNACHE XXIV. SAINT MARTINS EVE

SAINT MARTIN'S SUMMER

CHAPTER I. THE SENESCHAL OF DAUPHINY

My Lord of Tressan, His Majesty's Seneschal of Dauphiny, sat at hisease, his purple doublet all undone, to yield greater freedom to hisvast bulk, a yellow silken undergarment visible through the gap, as isvisible the flesh of some fruit that, swollen with over-ripeness, hasburst its skin. 

His wig--imposed upon him by necessity, not fashion lay on the tableamid a confusion of dusty papers, and on his little fat nose, roundand red as a cherry at its end, rested the bridge of his horn-rimmedspectacles. His bald head--so bald and shining that it conveyed anunpleasant sense of nakedness, suggesting that its uncovering had beenan act of indelicacy on the owner's part--rested on the back of hisgreat chair, and hid from sight the gaudy escutcheon wrought upon thecrimson leather. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, and whether fromthat mouth or from his nose--or, perhaps, conflicting for issue betweenboth--there came a snorting, rumbling sound to proclaim that my Lord theSeneschal was hard at work upon the King's business. 

Yonder, at a meaner table, in an angle between two windows, a pale-facedthread-bare secretary was performing for a yearly pittance theduties for which my Lord the Seneschal was rewarded by emolumentsdisproportionately large. 

The air of that vast apartment was disturbed by the sounds of Monsieurde Tressan's slumbers, the scratch and splutter of the secretary'spen, and the occasional hiss and crackle of the logs that burned in thegreat, cavern-like fireplace. Suddenly to these another sound was added. With a rasp and rattle the heavy curtains of blue velvet flecked withsilver fleurs-de-lys were swept from the doorway, and the master ofMonsieur de Tressan's household, in a well filled suit of black relievedby his heavy chain of office, stepped pompously forward. 

The secretary dropped his pen, and shot a frightened glance at hisslumbering master; then raised his hands above his head, and shook themwildly at the head lackey. 

"Sh!" he whispered tragically. "Doucement, Monsieur Anselme. "

Anselme paused. He appreciated the gravity of the situation. His bearinglost some of its dignity; his face underwent a change. Then with arecovery of some part of his erstwhile resolution:

"Nevertheless, he must be awakened, " he announced, but in an undertone, as if afraid to do the thing he said must needs be done. 

The horror in the secretary's eyes increased, but Anselme's reflectednone of it. It was a grave thing, he knew by former experience, toarouse His Majesty's Seneschal of Dauphiny from his after-dinnernap; but it was an almost graver thing to fail in obedience to thatblack-eyed woman below who was demanding an audience. 

Anselme realized that he was between the sword and the wall. He was, however, a man of a deliberate habit that was begotten of inherentindolence and nurtured among the good things that fell to his share asmaster of the Tressan household. Thoughtfully he caressed his tuft ofred beard, puffed out his cheeks, and raised his eyes to the ceilingin appeal or denunciation to the heaven which he believed was somewherebeyond it. 

"Nevertheless, he must be awakened, " he repeated. 

And then Fate came to his assistance. Somewhere in the house a doorbanged like a cannon-shot. Perspiration broke upon the secretary's brow. He sank limply back in his chair, giving himself up for lost. Anselmestarted and bit the knuckle of his forefinger in a manner suggesting aninarticulate imprecation. 

My Lord the Seneschal moved. The noise of his slumbers culminated in asudden, choking grunt, and abruptly ceased. His eyelids rolled slowlyback, like an owl's, revealing pale blue eyes, which fixed themselvesfirst upon the ceiling, then upon Anselme. Instantly he sat up, puffingand scowling, his hands shuffling his papers. 

"A thousand devils! Anselme, why am I interrupted?" he grumbledquerulously, still half-asleep. "What the plague do you want? Have youno thought for the King's affairs? Babylas"--this to his secretary--"didI not tell you that I had much to do; that I must not be disturbed?"

It was the great vanity of the life of this man, who did nothing, toappear the busiest fellow in all France, and no audience--not even thatof his own lackeys--was too mean for him to take the stage to in thatpredilect role. 

"Monsieur le Comte, " said Anselme, in tones of abject self-effacement, "I had never dared intrude had the matter been of less urgency. But Madame the Dowager of Condillac is below. She begs to see YourExcellency instantly. "

At once there was a change. Tressan became wide-awake upon the instant. His first act was to pass one hand over the wax-like surface of hisbald head, whilst his other snatched at his wig. Then he heaved himselfponderously out of his great chair. He donned his wig, awry in hishaste, and lurched forward towards Anselme, his fat fingers straining athis open doublet and drawing it together. 

"Madame la Douairiere here?" he cried. "Make fast these buttons, rascal!Quick! Am I to receive a lady thus? Am I--? Babylas, " he snapped, interrupting himself and turning aside even as Anselme put forth handsto do his bidding. "A mirror, from my closet! Dispatch!"

The secretary was gone in a flash, and in a flash returned, even asAnselme completed his master's toilet. But clearly Monsieur de Tressanhad awakened in a peevish humour, for no sooner were the buttons ofhis doublet secured than with his own fingers he tore them loose again, cursing his majordomo the while with vigour. 

"You dog, Anselme, have you no sense of fitness, no discrimination? AmI to appear in this garment of the mode of a half-century ago beforeMadame la Marquise? Take it off; take it off, man! Get me the coat thatcame last month from Paris--the yellow one with the hanging sleeves andthe gold buttons, and a sash--the crimson sash I had from Taillemant. Can you move no quicker, animal? Are you still here?"

Anselme, thus enjoined, lent an unwonted alacrity to his movements, waddling grotesquely like a hastening waterfowl. Between him and thesecretary they dressed my Lord the Seneschal, and decked him out till hewas fit to compare with a bird of paradise for gorgeousness of colouringif not for harmony of hues and elegance of outline. 

Babylas held the mirror, and Anselme adjusted the Seneschal's wig, whilst Tressan himself twisted his black mustachios--how they kept theircolour was a mystery to his acquaintance--and combed the tuft of beardthat sprouted from one of his several chins. 

He took a last look at his reflection, rehearsed a smile, and badeAnselme introduce his visitor. He desired his secretary to go to thedevil, but, thinking better of it, he recalled him as he reached thedoor. His cherished vanity craved expression. 

"Wait!" said he. "There is a letter must be written. The King's businessmay not suffer postponement--not for all the dowagers in France. Sitdown. "

Babylas obeyed him. Tressan stood with his back to the open door. Hisears, strained to listen, had caught the swish of a woman's gown. Hecleared his throat, and began to dictate:

"To Her Majesty the Queen-Regent--" He paused, and stood with knittedbrows, deep in thought. Then he ponderously repeated--"To Her Majestythe Queen Regent--Have you got that?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Comte. 'To Her Majesty the Queen Regent. '"

There was a step, and a throat-clearing cough behind him. 

"Monsieur de Tressan, " said a woman's voice, a rich, melodious voice, ifhaughty and arrogant of intonation. 

On the instant he turned, advanced a step, and bowed. 

"Your humblest servant, madame, " said he, his hand upon his heart. "Thisis an honour which--"

"Which necessity thrusts upon you, " she broke in imperiously. "Dismissthat fellow. "

The secretary, pale and shy, had risen. His eyes dilated at the woman'sspeech. He looked for a catastrophe as the natural result of her takingsuch a tone with this man who was the terror of his household and ofall Grenoble. Instead, the Lord Seneschal's meekness left him breathlesswith surprise. 

"He is my secretary, madame. We were at work as you came. I was on thepoint of inditing a letter to Her Majesty. The office of Seneschal ina province such as Dauphiny is helas!--no sinecure. " He sighed likeone whose brain is weary. "It leaves a man little time even to eat orsleep. "

"You will be needing a holiday, then, " said she, with cool insolence. "Take one for once, and let the King's business give place for half anhour to mine. "

The secretary's horror grew by leaps and bounds. 

Surely the storm would burst at last about this audacious woman's head. But the Lord Seneschal--usually so fiery and tempestuous--did no morethan make her another of his absurd bows. 

"You anticipate, madame, the very words I was about to utter. Babylas, vanish!" And he waved the scribbler doorwards with a contemptuous hand. "Take your papers with you--into my closet there. We will resume thatletter to Her Majesty when madame shall have left me. "

The secretary gathered up his papers, his quills, and his inkhorn, andwent his way, accounting the end of the world at hand. 

When the door had closed upon him, the Seneschal, with another bow anda simper, placed a chair at his visitor's disposal. She looked at thechair, then looked at the man much as she had looked at the chair, and turning her back contemptuously on both, she sauntered towards thefireplace. She stood before the blaze, with her whip tucked under herarm, drawing off her stout riding-gloves. She was a tall, splendidlyproportioned woman, of a superb beauty of countenance, for all that shewas well past the spring of life. 

In the waning light of that October afternoon none would have guessedher age to be so much as thirty, though in the sunlight you might haveset it at a little more. But in no light at all would you have guessedthe truth, that her next would be her forty-second birthday. Her facewas pale, of an ivory pallor that gleamed in sharp contrast with theebony of her lustrous hair. Under the long lashes of low lids a pair ofeyes black and insolent set off the haughty lines of her scarlet lips. Her nose was thin and straight, her neck an ivory pillar splendidlyupright upon her handsome shoulders. 

She was dressed for riding, in a gown of sapphire velvet, handsomelylaced in gold across the stomacher, and surmounted at the neck, whereit was cut low and square, by the starched band of fine linen which inFrance was already replacing the more elaborate ruff. On her head, overa linen coif, she wore a tall-crowned grey beaver, swathed with a scarfof blue and gold. 

Standing by the hearth, one foot on the stone kerb, one elbow leaninglightly on the overmantel, she proceeded leisurely to remove her gloves. 

The Seneschal observed her with eyes that held an odd mixture offurtiveness and admiration, his fingers--plump, indolent-lookingstumps--plucking at his beard. 

"Did you but know, Marquise, with what joy, with what a--"

"I will imagine it, whatever it may be, " she broke in, with that brusquearrogance that marked her bearing. "The time for flowers of rhetoric isnot now. There is trouble coming, man; trouble, dire trouble. "

Up went the Seneschal's brows; his eyes grew wider. 

"Trouble?" quoth he. And, having opened his mouth to give exit to thatsingle word, open he left it. 

She laughed lazily, her lip curling, her face twisting oddly, andmechanically she began to draw on again the glove she had drawn off. 

"By your face I see how well you understand me, " she sneered. "Thetrouble concerns Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. "

"From Paris--does it come from Court?" His voice was sunk. 

She nodded. "You are a miracle of intuition today, Tressan. "

He thrust his tiny tuft of beard between his teeth--a trick he had whenperplexed or thoughtful. "Ah!" he exclaimed at last, and it sounded likean indrawn breath of apprehension. "Tell me more. "

"What more is there to tell? You have the epitome of the story. "

"But what is the nature of the trouble? What form does it take, and bywhom are you advised of it?"

"A friend in Paris sent me word, and his messenger did his work well, else had Monsieur de Garnache been here before him, and I had not somuch as had the mercy of this forewarning. "

"Garnache?" quoth the Count. "Who is Garnache?"

"The emissary of the Queen-Regent. He has been dispatched hither by herto see that Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye has justice and enlargement. "

Tressan fell suddenly to groaning and wringing his hands a patheticfigure had it been less absurd. 

"I warned you, madame! I warned you how it would end, " he cried. "I toldyou--"

"Oh, I remember the things you told me, " she cut in, scorn in her voice. "You may spare yourself their repetition. What is done is done, and I'llnot--I would not--have it undone. Queen-Regent or no Queen-Regent, Iam mistress at Condillac; my word is the only law we know, and I intendthat so it shall continue. "

Tressan looked at her in surprise. This unreasoning, feminine obstinacyso wrought upon him that he permitted himself a smile and a lapse intoirony and banter. 

"Parfaitement, " said he, spreading his hands, and bowing. "Why speak oftrouble, then?"

She beat her whip impatiently against her gown, her eyes staring intothe fire. "Because, my attitude being such as it is, trouble will therebe. "

The Seneschal shrugged his shoulders, and moved a step towards her. Hewas cast down to think that he might have spared himself the troubleof donning his beautiful yellow doublet from Paris. She had eyes for nofinery that afternoon. He was cast down, too, to think how things mightgo with him when this trouble came. It entered his thoughts that he hadlain long on a bed of roses in this pleasant corner of Dauphiny, andhe was smitten now with fear lest of the roses he should find nothingremaining but the thorns. 

"How came the Queen-Regent to hear of--ofmademoiselle's--ah--situation?" he inquired. 

The Marquise swung round upon him in a passion. 

"The girl found a dog of a traitor to bear a letter for her. That isenough. If ever chance or fate should bring him my way, by God! he shallhang without shrift. "

Then she put her anger from her; put from her, too, the insolence andscorn with which so lavishly she had addressed him hitherto. Instead sheassumed a suppliant air, her beautiful eyes meltingly set upon his face. 

"Tressan, " said she in her altered voice, "I am beset by enemies. Butyou will not forsake me? You will stand by me to the end--will you not, my friend? I can count upon you, at least?"

"In all things, madame, " he answered, under the spell of her gaze. "Whatforce does this man Garnache bring with him? Have you ascertained?"

"He brings none, " she answered, triumph in her glance. 

"None?" he echoed, horror in his. "None? Then--then--"

He tossed his arms to heaven, and stood a limp and shaken thing. Sheleaned forward, and regarded him stricken in surprise. 

"Diable! What ails you?" she snapped. "Could I have given you betternews?"

"If you could have given me worse, I cannot think what it might havebeen, " he groaned. Then, as if smitten by a sudden notion that flashed agleam of hope into this terrifying darkness that was settling down uponhim, he suddenly looked up. "You mean to resist him?" he inquired. 

She stared at him a second, then laughed, a thought unpleasantly. 

"Pish! But you are mad, " she scorned him. "Do you need ask if I intendto resist--I, with the strongest castle in Dauphiny? By God! sir, if youneed to hear me say it, hear me then say that I shall resist him andas many as the Queen may send after him, for as long as one stone ofCondillac shall stand upon another. "

The Seneschal blew out his lips, and fell once more to the chewing ofhis beard. 

"What did you mean when you said I could have given you no worse newsthan that of his coming alone?" she questioned suddenly. 

"Madame, " said he, "if this man comes without force, and you resist theorders of which he is the bearer, what think you will betide?"

"He will appeal to you for the men he needs that he may batter down mywalls, " she answered calmly. 

He looked at her incredulously. "You realize it?" he ejaculated. "Yourealize it?"

"What is there in it that should puzzle a babe?"

Her callousness was like a gust of wind upon the living embers of hisfears. It blew them into a blaze of wrath, sudden and terrific as thatof such a man at bay could be. He advanced upon her with the rollinggait of the obese, his cheeks purple, his arms waving wildly, his dyedmustachios bristling. 

"And what of me, madame?" he spluttered. "What of me? Am I to be ruined, gaoled, and hanged, maybe, for refusing him men?--for that is what isin your mind. Am I to make myself an outlaw? Am I, who have been LordSeneschal of Dauphiny these fifteen years, to end my days in degradationin the cause of a woman's matrimonial projects for a simperingschool-girl? Seigneur du Ciel!" he roared, "I think you are gonemad--mad, mad! over this affair. You would not think it too much to setthe whole province in flames so that you could have your way with thiswretched child. But, Ventregris! to ruin me--to--to--"

He fell silent for very want of words; just gaped and gasped, and then, with hands folded upon his paunch, he set himself to pace the chamber. 

Madame de Condillac stood watching him, her face composed, her glancecold. She was like some stalwart oak, weathering with unshaken fronta hurricane. When he had done, she moved away from the fireplace, and, beating her side gently with her whip, she stepped to the door. 

"Au revoir, Monsieur de Tressan, " said she, mighty cool, her backtowards him. 

At that he halted in his feverish stride, stood still and threw up hishead. His anger went out, as a candle is extinguished by a puff of wind. And in its place a new fear crept into his heart. 

"Madame, madame!" he cried. "Wait! Hear me. "

She paused, half-turned, and looked at him over her shoulder, scorn inher glance, a sneer on her scarlet mouth, insolence in every line ofher. 

"I think, monsieur, that I have heard a little more than enough, " saidshe. "I am assured, at least, that in you I have but a fair-weatherfriend, a poor lipserver. "

"Ah, not that, madame, " he cried, and his voice was stricken. "Say notthat. I would serve you as would none other in all this world--you knowit, Marquise; you know it. "

She faced about, and confronted him, her smile a trifle broader, as ifamusement were now blending with her scorn. 

"It is easy to protest. Easy to say, 'I will die for you, ' so long asthe need for such a sacrifice be remote. But let me do no more thanask a favour, and it is, 'What of my good name, madame? What of myseneschalship? Am I to be gaoled or hanged to pleasure you?' Faugh!" sheended, with a toss of her splendid head. "The world is peopled with yourkind, and I--alas! for a woman's intuitions--had held you different fromthe rest. "

Her words were to his soul as a sword of fire might have been to hisflesh. They scorched and shrivelled it. He saw himself as she would havehim see himself--a mean, contemptible craven; a coward who made big talkin times of peace, but faced about and vanished into hiding at the firstsign of danger. He felt himself the meanest, vilest thing a-crawl uponthis sinful earth, and she--dear God!--had thought him different fromthe ruck. She had held him in high esteem, and behold, how short had henot fallen of all her expectations! Shame and vanity combined to work asudden, sharp revulsion in his feelings. 

"Marquise, " he cried, "you say no more than what is just. But punishme no further. I meant not what I said. I was beside myself. Let meatone--let my future actions make amends for that odious departure frommy true self. "

There was no scorn now in her smile; only an ineffable tenderness, beholding which he felt it in his heart to hang if need be that he mightcontinue high in her regard. He sprang forward, and took the hand sheextended to him. 

"I knew, Tressan, " said she, "that you were not yourself, and that whenyou bethought you of what you had said, my valiant, faithful friendwould not desert me. "

He stooped over her hand, and slobbered kisses upon her unresponsiveglove. 

"Madame, " said he, "you may count upon me. This fellow out of Parisshall have no men from me, depend upon it. "

She caught him by the shoulders, and held him so, before her. Her facewas radiant, alluring; and her eyes dwelt on his with a kindness he hadnever seen there save in some wild daydream of his. 

"I will not refuse a service you offer me so gallantly, " said she. "Itwere an ill thing to wound you by so refusing it. "

"Marquise, " he cried, "it is as nothing to what I would do did theoccasion serve. But when this thing 'tis done; when you have had yourway with Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, and the nuptials shall have beencelebrated, then--dare I hope--?"

He said no more in words, but his little blue eyes had an eloquence thatleft nothing to mere speech. 

Their glances met, she holding him always at arm's length by that gripupon his shoulders, a grip that was firm and nervous. 

In the Seneschal of Dauphiny, as she now gazed upon him, she beheld avery toad of a man, and the soul of her shuddered at the sight of himcombining with the thing that he suggested. But her glance was steadyand her lips maintained their smile, just as if that ugliness of hishad been invested with some abstract beauty existing only to her gaze; alittle colour crept into her cheeks, and red being the colour of love'slivery, Tressan misread its meaning. 

She nodded to him across the little distance of her outstretched arms, then smothered a laugh that drove him crazed with hope, and breakingfrom him she sped swiftly, shyly it almost seemed to him, to the door. 

There she paused a moment looking back at him with a coyness that mighthave become a girl of half her years, yet which her splendid beautysaved from being unbecoming even in her. 

One adorable smile she gave him, and before he could advance to hold thedoor for her, she had opened it and passed out. 

CHAPTER II. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE

To promise rashly, particularly where a woman is the suppliant, andafterwards, if not positively to repent the promise, at least to regretthat one did not hedge it with a few conditions, is a proceedingnot uncommon to youth. In a man of advanced age, such as Monsieur deTressan, it never should have place; and, indeed, it seldom has, unlessthat man has come again under the sway of the influences by which youth, for good or ill, is governed. 

Whilst the flush of his adoration was upon him, hot from the contactof her presence, he knew no repentance, found room in his mind for noregrets. He crossed to the window, and pressed his huge round face tothe pane, in a futile effort to watch her mount and ride out of thecourtyard with her little troop of attendants. Finding that he mightnot--the window being placed too high--gratify his wishes in thatconnection, he dropped into his chair, and sat in the fast-deepeninggloom, reviewing, fondly here, hurriedly there, the interview that hadbut ended. 

Thus night fell, and darkness settled down about him, relieved onlyby the red glow of the logs smouldering on the hearth. In the gloominspiration visited him. He called for lights and Babylas. Both came, and he dispatched the lackey that lighted the tapers to summon Monsieurd'Aubran, the commander of the garrison of Grenoble. 

In the interval before the soldier's coming he conferred with Babylasconcerning what he had in mind, but he found his secretary singularlydull and unimaginative. So that, perforce, he must fall back uponhimself. He sat glum and thoughtful, his mind in unproductive travail, until the captain was announced. 

Still without any definite plan, he blundered headlong, nevertheless, into the necessary first step towards the fulfilment of his purpose. 

"Captain, " said he, looking mighty grave, "I have cause to believe thatall is not as it should be in the hills in the district of Montelimar. "

"Is there trouble, monsieur?" inquired the captain, startled. 

"Maybe there is, maybe there is not, " returned the Seneschalmysteriously. "You shall have your full orders in the morning. Meanwhile, make ready to repair to the neighbourhood of Montelimarto-morrow with a couple of hundred men. "

"A couple of hundred, monsieur!" exclaimed d'Aubran. "But that will beto empty Grenoble of soldiers. "

"What of it? We are not likely to require them here. Let your orders forpreparation go round tonight, so that your knaves may be ready to setout betimes to-morrow. If you will be so good as to wait upon me earlyyou shall have your instructions. "

Mystified, Monsieur d'Aubran departed on his errand, and my LordSeneschal went down to supper well pleased with the cunning device bywhich he was to leave Grenoble without a garrison. It was an astute wayof escape from the awkward situation into which his attachment to theinterests of the dowager of Condillac was likely to place him. 

But when the morning came he was less pleased with the idea, chieflybecause he had been unable to invent any details that should lend it thenecessary colour, and d'Aubran--worse luck--was an intelligent officerwho might evince a pardonable but embarrassing curiosity. A leader ofsoldiers has a right to know something at least of the enterprise uponwhich he leads them. By morning, too, Tressan found that the interveningspace of the night, since he had seen Madame de Condillac, had cooledhis ardour very considerably. 

He had reached the incipient stages of regret of his rash promise. 

When Captain d'Aubran was announced to him, he bade them ask him to comeagain in an hour's time. From mere regrets he was passing now, throughdismay, into utter repentance of his promise. He sat in his study, at his littered writing-table, his head in his hands, a confusion ofthoughts, a wild, frenzied striving after invention in his brain. 

Thus Anselme found him when he thrust aside the portiere to announcethat a Monsieur de Garnache, from Paris, was below, demanding to see theLord Seneschal at once upon an affair of State. 

Tressan's flesh trembled and his heart fainted. Then, suddenly, desperately, he took his courage in both hands. He remembered who he wasand what he was the King's Lord Seneschal of the Province of Dauphiny. Throughout that province, from the Rhone to the Alps, his word was law, his name a terror to evildoers--and to some others besides. Was he toblench and tremble at the mention of the name of a Court lackey out ofParis, who brought him a message from the Queen-Regent? Body of God! nothe. 

He heaved himself to his feet, warmed and heartened by the thought; hiseye sparkled, and there was a deeper flush than usual upon his cheek. 

"Admit this Monsieur de Garnache, " said he with a fine loftiness, and inhis heart he pondered what he would say and how he should say it; how heshould stand, how move, and how look. His roving eye caught sight of hissecretary. He remembered something--the cherished pose of being a manplunged fathoms-deep in business. Sharply he uttered his secretary'sname. 

Babylas raised his pale face; he knew what was coming; it had come somany times before. But there was no vestige of a smile on his droopinglips, no gleam of amusement in his patient eye. He thrust aside thepapers on which he was at work, and drew towards him a fresh sheet onwhich to pen the letter which, he knew by experience, Tressan wasabout to indite to the Queen-mother. For these purposes Her Majesty wasTressan's only correspondent. 

Then the door opened, the portiere was swept aside, and Anselmeannounced "Monsieur de Garnache. "

Tressan turned as the newcomer stepped briskly into the room, andbowed, hat in hand, its long crimson feather sweeping the ground, thenstraightened himself and permitted the Seneschal to take his measure. 

Tressan beheld a man of a good height, broad to the waist and sparethence to the ground, who at first glance appeared to be mainly clad inleather. A buff jerkin fitted his body; below it there was a glimpse ofwine-coloured trunks, and hose of a slightly deeper hue, which vanishedimmediately into a pair of huge thighboots of untanned leather. Aleather swordbelt, gold-embroidered at the edges, carried a longsteel-halted rapier in a leather scabbard chaped with steel. The sleevesof his doublet which protruded from his leather casing were of the samecolour and material as his trunks. In one hand he carried his broadblack hat with its crimson feather, in the other a little roll ofparchment; and when he moved the creak of leather and jingle of hisspurs made pleasant music for a martial spirit. 

Above all, this man's head, well set upon his shoulders, claimed someattention. His nose was hooked and rather large, his eyes were blue, bright as steel, and set a trifle wide. Above a thin-lapped, delicatemouth his reddish mustachios, slightly streaked with grey, stood out, bristling like a cat's. His hair was darker--almost brown save at thetemples, where age had faded it to an ashen colour. In general hisaspect was one of rugged strength. 

The Seneschal, measuring him with an adversary's eye, misliked hislooks. But he bowed urbanely, washing his hands in the air, andmurmuring:

"Your servant, Monsieur de--?"

"Garnache, " came the other's crisp, metallic voice, and the name had asound as of an oath on his lips. "Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache. I come to you on an errand of Her Majesty's, as this my warrant willapprise you. " And he proffered the paper he held, which Tressan acceptedfrom his hand. 

A change was visible in the wily Seneschal's fat countenance. Its roundexpanse had expressed interrogation until now; but at the Parisian'sannouncement that he was an emissary of the Queen's, Tressan insinuatedinto it just that look of surprise and of increased deference whichwould have been natural had he not already been forewarned of Monsieurde Garnache's mission and identity. 

He placed a chair at his visitor's disposal, himself resuming his seatat his writing-table, and unfolding the paper Garnache had given him. The newcomer seated himself, hitched his sword-belt round so that hecould lean both hands upon the hilt, and sat, stiff and immovable, awaiting the Lord Seneschal's pleasure. From his desk across the roomthe secretary, idly chewing the feathered end of his goose-quill, tooksilent stock of the man from Paris, and wondered. 

Tressan folded the paper carefully, and returned it to its owner. Itwas no more than a formal credential, setting forth that Garnache wastravelling into Dauphiny on a State affair, and commanding Monsieur deTressan to give him every assistance he might require in the performanceof his errand. 

"Parfaitement, " purred the Lord Seneschal. "And now, monsieur, if youwill communicate to me the nature of your affair, you shall find meentirely at your service. "

"It goes without saying that you are acquainted with the Chateau deCondillac?" began Garnache, plunging straight into business. 

"Perfectly. " The Seneschal leaned back, and was concerned to feel hispulses throbbing a shade too quickly. But he controlled his features, and maintained a placid, bland expression. 

"You are perhaps acquainted with its inhabitants?"

"Yes. "

"Intimate with them?"

The Seneschal pursed his lips, arched his brows, and slowly waved hispodgy hands, a combination of grimace and gesture that said much ornothing. But reflecting that Monsieur de Tressan had a tongue, Garnacheapparently did not opine it worth his while to set a strain upon his ownimagination, for--

"Intimate with them?" he repeated, and this time there was a sharpernote in his voice. 

Tressan leaned forward and brought his finger-tips together. His voicewas as urbane as it lay within its power to be. 

"I understood that monsieur was proposing to state his business, not toquestion mine. "

Garnache sat back in his chair, and his eyes narrowed. He scentedopposition, and the greatest stumbling-block in Garnache's career hadbeen that he could never learn to brook opposition from any man. Thatcharacteristic, evinced early in life, had all but been the ruin of him. He was a man of high intellectual gifts, of military skill and greatresource; out of consideration for which had he been chosen by Marie deMedicis to come upon this errand. But he marred it all by a temper soungovernable that in Paris there was current a byword, "Explosive asGarnache. "

Little did Tressan dream to what a cask of gunpowder he was applying thematch of his smug pertness. Nor did Garnache let him dream it just yet. He controlled himself betimes, bethinking him that, after all, theremight be some reason in what this fat fellow said. 

"You misapprehend my purpose, sir, " said he, his lean brown handstroking his long chin. "I but sought to learn how far already you maybe informed of what is taking place up there, to the end that I mayspare myself the pains of citing facts with which already you areacquainted. Still, monsieur, I am willing to proceed upon the lineswhich would appear to be more agreeable to yourself. 

"This, then, is the sum of the affair that brings me: The late Marquisde Condillac left two sons. The elder, Florimond--who is the presentmarquis, and who has been and still continues absent, warring in Italy, since before his father's death--is the stepson of the present Dowager, she being the mother of the younger son, Marius de Condillac. 

"Should you observe me to be anywhere at error, I beg, monsieur, thatyou will have the complaisance to correct me. "

The Seneschal bowed gravely, and Monsieur de Garnache continued:

"Now this younger son--I believe that he is in his twenty-first year atpresent--has been something of a scapegrace. "

"A scapegrace? Bon Dieu, no. That is a harsh name to give him. A littleindiscreet at times, a little rash, as is the way of youth. "

He would have said more, but the man from Paris was of no mind to wastetime on quibbles. 

"Very well, " he snapped, cutting in. "We will say, a little indiscreet. My errand is not concerned with Monsieur Marius's morals or with hislack of them. These indiscretions which you belittle appear to have beenenough to have estranged him from his father, a circumstance which butserved the more to endear him to his mother. I am told that she is avery handsome woman, and that the boy favours her surprisingly. "

"Ah!" sighed the Seneschal in a rapture. "A beautiful woman--a noble, splendid woman. '

"Hum!" Garnache observed the ecstatic simper with a grim eye. Then heproceeded with his story. 

"The late marquis possessed in his neighbour, the also deceased Monsieurde La Vauvraye, a very dear and valued friend. Monsieur de La Vauvrayehad an only child, a daughter, to inherit his very considerable estatesprobably the wealthiest in all Dauphiny, so I am informed. It wasthe dearest wish of his heart to transform what had been a lifelongfriendship in his own generation into a closer relationship in thenext--a wish that found a very ready echo in the heart of Monsieur deCondillac. Florimond de Condillac was sixteen years of age at the time, and Valerie de La Vauvraye fourteen. For all their tender years, theywere betrothed, and they grew up to love each other and to look forwardto the consummation of the plans their fathers had laid for them. "

"Monsieur, monsieur, " the Seneschal protested, "how can you possiblyinfer so much? How can you say that they loved each other? Whatauthority can you have for pretending to know what was in their inmosthearts?"

"The authority of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, " was the unanswerablerejoinder. "I am telling you, more or less, what she herself wrote tothe Queen. "

"Ah! Well, well--proceed, monsieur. "

"This marriage should render Florimond de Condillac the wealthiest andmost powerful gentleman in Dauphiny--one of the wealthiest in France;and the idea of it pleased the old marquis, inasmuch as the disparitythere would be between the worldly possessions of his two sons wouldserve to mark his disapproval of the younger. But before settling down, Florimond signified a desire to see the world, as was fit and properand becoming in a young man who was later to assume such wideresponsibilities. His father, realizing the wisdom of such a step, madebut slight objection, and at the age of twenty Florimond set out for theItalian wars. Two years afterwards, a little over six months ago, hisfather died, and was followed to the grave some weeks later by Monsieurde La Vauvraye. The latter, with a want of foresight which has givenrise to the present trouble, misjudging the character of the Dowagerof Condillac, entrusted to her care his daughter Valerie pendingFlorimond's return, when the nuptials would naturally be immediatelycelebrated. I am probably telling you no more than you already know. But you owe the infliction to your own unwillingness to answer myquestions. "

"No, no, monsieur; I assure you that in what you say there is much thatis entirely new to me. "

"I rejoice to hear it, Monsieur de Tressan, " said Garnache veryseriously, "for had you been in possession of all these facts, HerMajesty might have a right to learn how it chanced that you had nowiseinterfered in what is toward at Condillac. 

"But to proceed: Madame de Condillac and her precious Benjamin--thisMarius--finding themselves, in Florimond's absence, masters of thesituation, have set about turning it to their own best advantage. Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, whilst being nominally under theirguardianship, finds herself practically gaoled by them, and odious plansare set before her to marry Marius. Could the Dowager but accomplishthis, it would seem that she would not only be assuring a future ofease and dignity for her son, but also be giving vent to all her pent-uphatred of her stepson. 

"Mademoiselle, however, withstands them, and in this she is aided bya fortuitous circumstance which has arisen out of the overbearingarrogance that appears to be madame's chief characteristic. Condillacafter the marquis's death had refused to pay tithes to Mother Churchand has flouted and insulted the Bishop. This prelate, after findingremonstrance vain, has retorted by placing Condillac under an Interdict, depriving all within it of the benefit of clergy. Thus, they have beenunable to find a priest to venture thither, so that even had they willedto marry mademoiselle by force to Marius, they lacked the actual meansof doing so. 

"Florimond continues absent. We have every reason to believe that he hasbeen left in ignorance of his father's death. Letters coming from himfrom time to time prove that he was alive and well at least until threemonths ago. A messenger has been dispatched to find him and urge him toreturn home at once. But pending his arrival the Queen has determinedto take the necessary steps to ensure that Mademoiselle de La Vauvrayeshall be released from her captivity, that she shall suffer no furthermolestation at the hands of Madame de Condillac and her son--enfin, thatshe shall run no further risks. 

"My errand, monsieur, is to acquaint you with these facts, and torequest you to proceed to Condillac and deliver thence Mademoiselle deLa Vauvraye, whom I am subsequently to escort to Paris and place underHer Majesty's protection until such time as the new marquis shall returnto claim her. "

Having concluded, Monsieur de Garnache sat back in his chair, and threwone leg over the other, fixing his eyes upon the Seneschal's face andawaiting his reply. 

On that gross countenance before him he saw fall the shadow ofperplexity. Tressan was monstrous ill-at-ease, and his face lost a gooddeal of its habitual plethora of colour. He sought to temporize. 

"Does it not occur to you, monsieur, that perhaps too much importancemay have been attached to the word of this child--this Mademoiselle deLa Vauvraye?"

"Does it occur to you that such has been the case, that she hasoverstated it?" counter-questioned Monsieur de Garnache. 

"No, no. I do not say that. But--but--would it not bebetter--more--ah--satisfactory to all concerned, if you yourself wereto go to Condillac, and deliver your message in person, demandingmademoiselle?"

The man from Paris looked at him a moment, then stood up suddenly, andshifted the carriages of his sword back to their normal position. Hisbrows came together in a frown, from which the Seneschal argued that hissuggestion was not well received. 

"Monsieur, " said the Parisian very coldly, like a man who contains arising anger, "let me tell you that this is the first time in my lifethat I have been concerned in anything that had to do with women and Iam close upon forty years of age. The task, I can assure you, was littleto my taste. I embarked upon it because, being a soldier and havingreceived my orders, I was in the unfortunate position of being unable tohelp myself. But I intend, monsieur, to adhere rigidly to the letter ofthese commands. Already I have endured more than enough in the interestsof this damsel. I have ridden from Paris, and that means close upon aweek in the saddle--no little thing to a man who has acquired certainhabits of life and developed a taste for certain minor comforts which heis very reluctant to forgo. I have fed and slept at inns, living on theworst of fares and sleeping on the hardest, and hardly the cleanest, ofbeds. Ventregris! Figure to yourself that last night we lay at Luzan, in the only inn the place contained--a hovel, Monsieur le Seneschal, ahovel in which I would not kennel a dog I loved. "

His face flushed, and his voice rose as he dwelt upon the things he hadundergone. 

"My servant and I slept in a dormitory'--a thousand devils! monsieur, ina dormitory! Do you realize it? We had for company a drunken vintner, a pedlar, a pilgrim on his way to Rome, and two peasant women; andthey sent us to bed without candles, for modesty's sake. I ask you toconceive my feelings in such a case as that. I could tell you more; butthat as a sample of what I have undergone could scarcely be surpassed. "

"Truly-truly outrageous, " sympathized the Seneschal; yet he grinned. 

"I ask you--have I not suffered inconvenience enough already in theservice of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye that you can blame me if I refuseto go a single step further than my orders bid me?"

The Seneschal stared at him now in increasing dismay. Had his owninterests been less at issue he could have indulged his mirth at theother's fiery indignation at the inconveniences he recited. As it was, he had nothing to say; no thought or feeling other than what concernedfinding a way of escape from the net that seemed to be closing in abouthim--how to seem to serve the Queen without turning against the Dowagerof Condillac; how to seem to serve the Dowager without opposing thewishes of the Queen. 

"A plague on the girl!" he growled, unconsciously uttering his thoughtsaloud. "The devil take her!"

Garnache smiled grimly. "That is a bond of sympathy between us, " saidhe. "I have said those very words a hundred times--a thousand times, indeed--between Paris and Grenoble. Yet I scarcely see that you can damnher with as much justice as can I. 

"But there, monsieur; all this is unprofitable. You have my message. Ishall spend the day at Grenoble, and take a well-earned rest. By thistime to-morrow I shall be ready to start upon my return journey. Ishall have then the honour to wait upon you again, to the end that Imay receive from you the charge of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. I shallcount upon your having her here, in readiness to set out with me, bynoon to-morrow. "

He bowed, with a flourish of his plumed hat, and would with that havetaken his departure but that the Seneschal stayed him. 

"Monsieur, monsieur, " he cried, in piteous affright, "you do not knowthe Dowager of Condillac. "

"Why, no. What of it?"

"What of it? Did you know her, you would understand that she is not thewoman to be driven. I may order her in the Queen's name to deliver upMademoiselle de La Vauvraye. But she will withstand me. "

"Withstand you?" echoed Garnache, frowning into the face of this fatman, who had risen also, brought to his feet by excitement. "Withstandyou--you, the Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny? You are amusing yourself at myexpense. "

"But I tell you that she will, " the other insisted in a passion. "Youmay look for the girl in vain tomorrow unless you go to Condillacyourself and take her. "

Garnache drew himself up and delivered his answer in a tone that wasfinal. 

"You are the governor of the province, monsieur, and in this matter youhave in addition the Queen's particular authority--nay, her commands areimposed upon you. Those commands, as interpreted by me, you will executein the manner I have indicated. "

The Seneschal shrugged his shoulders, and chewed a second at his beard. 

"It is an easy thing for you to tell me what to do. Tell me, rather, howto do it, how to overcome her opposition. "

"You are very sure of opposition--strangely sure, monsieur, " saidGarnache, looking him between the eyes. "In any case, you havesoldiers. "

"And so has she, and the strongest castle in southern France--to saynothing of the most cursed obstinacy in the world. What she says, shedoes. "

"And what the Queen says her loyal servants do, " was Garnache'srejoinder, in a withering tone. "I think there is nothing more to besaid, monsieur, " he added. "By this time to-morrow I shall expect toreceive from you, here, the charge of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. Ademain, donc, Monsieur le Seneschal. "

And with another bow the man from Paris drew himself erect, turned onhis heel, and went jingling and creaking from the room. 

The Lord Seneschal sank back in his chair, and wondered to himselfwhether to die might not prove an easy way out of the horrid situationinto which chance and his ill-starred tenderness for the Dowager ofCondillac had thrust him. 

At his desk sat his secretary, who had been a witness of the interview, lost in wonder almost as great as the Seneschal's own. 

For an hour Tressan remained where he was, deep in thought and gnawingat his beard. Then with a sudden burst of passion, expressed in a roundoath or two, he rose, and called for his horse that he might ride toCondillac. 

CHAPTER III. THE DOWAGER'S COMPLIANCE

Promptly at noon on the morrow Monsieur de Garnache presented himselfonce more at the Seneschal's palace, and with him went Rabecque, hisbody-servant, a lean, swarthy, sharp-faced man, a trifle younger thanhis master. 

Anselme, the obese master of the household, received them with profoundrespect, and at once conducted Garnache to Monsieur de Tressan'spresence. 

On the stairs they met Captain d'Aubran, who was descending. The captainwas not in the best of humours. For four-and-twenty hours he had kepttwo hundred of his men under arms, ready to march as soon as he shouldreceive his orders from the Lord Seneschal, yet those instructions werenot forthcoming. He had been to seek them again that morning, only to beagain put off. 

Monsieur de Garnache had considerable doubt, born of his yesterday'sinterview with the Seneschal, that Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye wouldbe delivered into his charge as he had stipulated. His relief was, therefore, considerable, upon being ushered into Tressan's presence, to find a lady in cloak and hat, dressed as for a journey, seated in achair by the great fireplace. 

Tressan advanced to meet him, a smile of cordial welcome on his lips, and they bowed to each other in formal greeting. 

"You see, monsieur, " said the Seneschal, waving a plump hand in thedirection of the lady, "that you have been obeyed. Here is your charge. "

Then to the lady: "This is Monsieur de Garnache, " he announced, "of whomI have already told you, who is to conduct you to Paris by order of HerMajesty. 

"And now, my good friends, however great the pleasure I derive from yourcompany, I care not how soon you set out, for I have some prodigiousarrears of work upon my hands. "

Garnache bowed to the lady, who returned his greeting by an inclinationof the head, and his keen eyes played briskly over her. She was aplump-faced, insipid child, with fair hair and pale blue eyes, stolidand bovine in their expressionlessness. 

"I am quite ready, monsieur, " said she, rising as she spoke, andgathering her cloak about her; and Garnache remarked that her voice hadthe southern drawl, her words the faintest suggestion of a patois. Itwas amazing how a lady born and bred could degenerate in the rusticityof Dauphiny. Pigs and cows, he made no doubt, had been her chiefobjectives. Yet, even so, he thought he might have expected that shewould have had more to say to him than just those five words expressingher readiness to depart. He had looked for some acknowledgment ofsatisfaction at his presence, some utterances of gratitude either tohimself or to the Queen-Regent for the promptness with which she hadbeen succoured. He was disappointed, but he showed nothing of it, aswith a simple inclination of the head--

"Good!" said he. "Since you are ready and Monsieur le Seneschal isanxious to be rid of us, let us by all means be moving. You have a longand tedious journey before you, mademoiselle. "

"I--I am prepared for that, " she faltered. 

He stood aside, and bending from the waist he made a sweeping gesturetowards the door with the hand that held his hat. To the invitation toprecede him she readily responded, and, with a bow to the Seneschal, shebegan to walk across the apartment. 

Garnache's eyes, narrowing slightly, followed her, like points of steel. Suddenly he shot a disturbing glance at Tressan's face, and the cornerof his wild-cat mustachios twitched. He stood erect, and called her verysharply. 

"Mademoiselle!"

She stopped, and turned to face him, an incredible shyness seeming tocause her to avoid his gaze. 

"You have, no doubt, Monsieur le Seneschal's word for my identity. ButI think it is as well that you should satisfy yourself. Before placingyourself entirely in my care, as you are about to do, you would be welladvised to assure yourself, that I am indeed Her Majesty's emissary. Will you be good enough to glance at this?"

He drew forth as he spoke the letter in the queen's own hand, turnedit upside down, and so presented it to her. The Seneschal looked onstolidly, a few paces distant. 

"But certainly, mademoiselle, assure yourself that this gentleman is noother than I have told you. "

Thus enjoined, she took the letter; for a second her eyes met Garnache'sglittering gaze, and she shivered. Then she bent her glance to thewriting, and studied it a moment, what time the man from Paris watchedher closely. 

Presently she handed it back to him. 

"Thank you, monsieur, " was all she said. 

"You are satisfied that it is in order, mademoiselle?" he inquired, anda note of mockery too subtle for her or the Seneschal ran through hisquestion. 

"I am quite satisfied. "

Garnache turned to Tressan. His eyes were smiling, but unpleasantly, and in his voice when he spoke there was something akin to the distantrumble that heralds an approaching storm. 

"Mademoiselle, " said he, "has received an eccentric education. "

"Eh?" quoth Tressan, perplexed. 

"I have heard tell, monsieur, of a people somewhere in the East whoread and write from right to left; but never yet have I heard tell ofany--particularly in France--so oddly schooled as to do their readingupside down. "

Tressan caught the drift of the other's meaning. He paled a little, and sucked his lip, his eyes wandering to the girl, who stood in stolidinapprehension of what was being said. 

"Did she do that?" said he, and he scarcely knew what he was saying;all that he realized was that it urged him to explain this thing. "Mademoiselle's education has been neglected--a by no means uncommonhappening in these parts. She is sensitive of it; she seeks to hide thefact. "

Then the storm broke about their heads. And it crashed and thunderedawfully in the next few minutes. 

"O liar! O damned, audacious liar, " roared Garnache uncompromisingly, advancing a step upon the Seneschal, and shaking the parchmentthreateningly in his very face, as though it were become a weapon ofoffence. "Was it to hide the fact that she had not been taught to writethat she sent the Queen a letter pages-long? Who is this woman?" And thefinger he pointed at the girl quivered with the rage that filled him atthis trick they had thought to put upon him. 

Tressan sought refuge in offended dignity. He drew himself up, threwback his head, and looked the Parisian fiercely in the eye. 

"Since you take this tone with me, monsieur--"

"I take with you--as with any man--the tone that to me seems best. Youmiserable fool! As sure as you're a rogue this affair shall cost youyour position. You have waxed fat and sleek in your seneschalship; thiseasy life in Dauphiny appears to have been well suited to your health. But as your paunch has grown, so, of a truth, have your brains dwindled, else had you never thought to cheat me quite so easily. 

"Am I some lout who has spent his days herding swine, think you, thatyou could trick me into believing this creature to be Mademoiselle deLa Vauvraye--this creature with the mien of a peasant, with a breathreeking of garlic like a third-rate eating-house, and the walk of awoman who has never known footgear until this moment? Tell me, sir, forwhat manner of fool did you take me?"

The Seneschal stood with blanched face and gaping mouth, his fire allturned to ashes before the passion of this gaunt man. 

Garnache paid no heed to him. He stepped to the girl, and roughly raisedher chin with his hand so that she was forced to look him in the face. 

"What is your name, wench?" he asked her. 

"Margot, " she blubbered, bursting into tears. 

He dropped her chin, and turned away with a gesture of disgust. 

"Get you gone, " he bade her harshly. "Get you back to the kitchen or theonion-field from which they took you. "

And the girl, scarce believing her good fortune, departed with a speedthat bordered on the ludicrous. Tressan had naught to say, no word tostay her with; pretence, he realized, was vain. 

"Now, my Lord Seneschal, " quoth Garnache, arms akimbo, feet plantedwide, and eyes upon the wretched man's countenance, "what may you haveto say to me?"

Tressan shifted his position; he avoided the other's glance; he wasvisibly trembling, and when presently he spoke it was in falteringaccents. 

"It--it--seems, monsieur, that--ah--that I have been the victim of someimposture. "

"It had rather seemed to me that the victim chosen was myself. "

"Clearly we were both victims, " the Seneschal rejoined. Then heproceeded to explain. "I went to Condillac yesterday as you desired me, and after a stormy interview with the Marquise I obtained from her--asI believed--the person of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. You see I was notmyself acquainted with the lady. "

Garnache looked at him. He did not believe him. He regretted almost thathe had not further questioned the girl. But, after all, perhaps itmight be easier and more expedient if he were to appear to accept theSeneschal's statement. But he must provide against further fraud. 

"Monsieur le Seneschal, " said he in calmer tones, putting his angerfrom him, "at the best you are a blunderer and an ass, at the worsta traitor. I will inquire no further at present; I'll not seek todiscriminate too finely. "

"Monsieur, these insults--" began the Seneschal, summoning dignity tohis aid. But Garnache broke in:

"La, la! I speak in the Queen's name. If you have thought to aid theDowager of Condillac in this resistance of Her Majesty's mandate, letme enjoin you, as you value your seneschalship--as you value your veryneck--to harbour that thought no longer. 

"It seems that, after all, I must deal myself with the situation. I mustgo myself to Condillac. If they should resist me, I shall look to youfor the necessary means to overcome that resistance. 

"And bear you this in mind: I have chosen to leave it an open questionwhether you were a party to the trick it has been sought to put upon theQueen, through me, her representative. But it is a question that I haveit in my power to resolve at any moment--to resolve as I choose. Unless, monsieur, I find you hereafter--as I trust--actuated by the mostunswerving loyalty, I shall resolve that question by proclaiming youa traitor; and as a traitor I shall arrest you and carry you to Paris. Monsieur le Seneschal, I have the honour to give you good-day!"

When he was gone, Monsieur de Tressan flung off his wig, and mopped theperspiration from his brow. He went white as snow and red as fire byturns, as he paced the apartment in a frenzy. Never in the fifteenyears that were sped since he had been raised to the governorship ofthe province had any man taken such a tone with him and harangued him insuch terms. 

A liar and a traitor had he been called that morning, a knave and afool; he had been browbeaten and threatened; and he had swallowed itall, and almost turned to lick the hand that administered the dose. Dame! What manner of cur was he become? And the man who had doneall this--a vulgar upstart out of Paris, reeking of leather and thebarrack-room still lived!

Bloodshed was in his mind; murder beckoned him alluringly to take her ashis ally. But he put the thought from him, frenzied though he might be. He must fight this knave with other weapons; frustrate his mission, andsend him back to Paris and the Queen's scorn, beaten and empty-handed. 

"Babylas's!" he shouted. 

Immediately the secretary appeared. 

"Have you given thought to the matter of Captain d'Aubran?" he asked, his voice an impatient snarl. 

"Yes, monsieur, I have pondered it all morning. "

"Well? And what have you concluded?"

"Helas! monsieur, nothing. "

Tressan smote the table before him a blow that shook some of the dustout of the papers that cumbered it. "Ventregris! How am I served? Forwhat do I pay you, and feed you, and house you, good-for-naught, if youare to fail me whenever I need the things you call your brains? Have youno intelligence, no thought, no imagination? Can you invent no plausiblebusiness, no likely rising, no possible disturbances that shall justifymy sending Aubran and his men to Montelimar--to the very devil, if needbe. "

The secretary trembled in his every limb; his eyes shunned his master'sas his master's had shunned Garnache's awhile ago. The Seneschal wasenjoying himself. If he had been bullied and browbeaten, here, at least, was one upon whom he, in his turn, might taste the joys of bullying andbrowbeating. 

"You lazy, miserable calf, " he stormed, "I might be better served bya wooden image. Go! It seems I must rely upon myself. It is always so. Wait!" he thundered; for the secretary, only too glad to obey his lastorder, had already reached the door. "Tell Anselme to bid the Captainattend me here at once. "

Babylas's bowed and went his errand. 

A certain amount of his ill-humour vented, Tressan made an effort toregain his self-control. He passed his handkerchief for the last timeover face and head, and resumed his wig. 

When d'Aubran entered, the Seneschal was composed and in his wontedhabit of ponderous dignity. "Ah, d'Aubran, " said he, "your men areready?"

"They have been ready these four-and-twenty hours, monsieur. "

"Good. You are a brisk soldier, d'Aubran. You are a man to be reliedupon. "

D'Aubran bowed. He was a tall, active young fellow with a pleasant faceand a pair of fine black eyes. 

"Monsieur le Seneschal is very good. "

With a wave of the hand the Seneschal belittled his own goodness. 

"You will march out of Grenoble within the hour, Captain, and you willlead your men to Montelimar. There you will quarter them, and awaitmy further orders. Babylas will give you a letter to the authorities, charging them to find you suitable quarters. While there, d'Aubran, anduntil my further orders reach you, you will employ your time in probingthe feeling in the hill district. You understand?"

"Imperfectly, " d'Aubran confessed. 

"You will understand better when you have been in Montelimar a week orso. It may, of course, be a false alarm. Still, we must safeguard theKing's interests and be prepared. Perhaps we may afterwards be chargedwith starting at shadows; but it is better to be on the alert from themoment the shadow is perceived than to wait until the substance itselfhas overwhelmed us. "

It sounded so very much as if the Seneschal's words really had somehidden meaning, that d'Aubran, if not content with going upon an errandof which he knew so little, was, at least, reconciled to obey the ordershe received. He uttered words that conveyed some such idea to Tressan'smind, and within a half-hour he was marching out of Grenoble withbeating drums, on his two days' journey to Montelimar. 

CHAPTER IV. THE CHATEAU DE CONDILLAC

As Captain d'Aubran and his troop were speeding westwards from Grenoble, Monsieur de Garnache, ever attended by his man, rode briskly in theopposite direction, towards the grey towers of Condillac, that rearedthemselves towards the greyer sky above the valley of the Isere. It wasa chill, dull, autumnal day, with a raw wind blowing from the Alps; itsbreath was damp, and foretold of the rain that was likely to come anon, the rain with which the clouds hanging low about the distant hills werepregnant. 

But Monsieur de Garnache was totally insensible to his surroundings; hismind was very busy with the interview from which he had come, andthe interview to which he was speeding. Once he permitted himself adigression, that he might point a moral for the benefit of his servant. 

"You see, Rebecque, what a plague it is to have to do with women. Areyou sufficiently grateful to me for having quelled your matrimonialardour of two months ago? No, you are not. Grateful you may be;sufficiently grateful, never; it would be impossible. No gratitude couldbe commensurate with the benefit I conferred upon you. Yet if you hadmarried, and discovered for yourself the troubles that come from tooclose an association with that sex which some wag of old ironicallycalled the weaker, and of which contemporary fools with no sense ofirony continue so to speak in good faith, you could have blamed onlyyourself. You would have shrugged your shoulders and made the best ofit, realizing that no other man had put this wrong upon you. But withme--thousand devils!--it is very different. I am a man who, in oneparticular at least, has chosen his way of life with care; I have seento it that I should walk a road unencumbered by any petticoat. Whathappens? What comes of all my careful plans?

"Fate sends an infernal cut-throat to murder our good king--whose soulGod rest eternally! And since his son is of an age too tender to wieldthe sceptre, the boy's mother does it in his name. Thus, I, a soldier, being subject to the head of the State, find myself, by no devising ofmy own, subject to a woman. 

"In itself that is bad enough. Too bad, indeed--Ventregris!--too bad. Yet Fate is not content. It must occur to this woman to select me--meof all men--to journey into Dauphiny, and release another woman fromthe clutches of yet a third. And to what shifts are we not put, to whatdiscomforts not subjected? You know them, Rabecque, for you have sharedthem with me. But it begins to break upon my mind that what we haveendured may be as nothing to what may lie before us. It is an ill thingto have to do with women. Yet you, Rabecque, would have deserted me forone of them!"

Rabecque was silent. Maybe he was ashamed of himself; or maybe that, not agreeing with his master, he had yet sufficient appreciation ofhis position to be discreetly silent where his opinions might be atvariance. Thus Garnache was encouraged to continue. 

"And what is all this trouble about, which they have sent me to setright? About a marriage. There is a girl wants to marry one man, anda woman who wants to marry her to another. Ponder the possibilities oftragedy in such a situation. Half this world's upheavals have had theirsource in less. Yet you, Rabecque, would have married!"

Necessity at last turned his discourse to other matters. 

"Tell me, now, " said he abruptly, in a different tone, "is therehereabouts a ford?"

"There is a bridge up yonder, monsieur, " returned the servant, thankfulto have the conversation changed. 

They rode towards it in silence, Garnache's eyes set now upon the greypile that crowned the hillock, a half-mile away, on the opposite bank ofthe stream. They crossed the bridge and rode up the gently rising, bare, and rugged ground towards Condillac. The place wore an entirely peacefulair, strong and massive though it appeared. It was encircled by a ditch, but the drawbridge was down, and the rust on its chains argued that longhad it been so. 

None coming to challenge them, the pair rode across the planks, andthe dull thud of their hooves started into activity some one in thegatehouse. 

A fellow rudely clad--a hybrid between man-at-arms and lackey--loungedon a musket to confront them in the gateway. Monsieur de Garnacheannounced his name, adding that he came to crave an audience of Madamela Marquise, and the man stood aside to admit him. Thus he and Rabecquerode forward into the roughly paved courtyard. 

From several doorways other men emerged, some of martial bearing, showing that the place was garrisoned to some extent. Garnache tooklittle heed of them. He flung his reins to the man whom he had firstaddressed--the fellow had kept pace beside him--and leapt nimbly to theground, bidding Rabecque await him there. 

The soldier lackey resigned the reins to Rabecque, and requestedMonsieur de Garnache to follow him. He led the way through a door onthe left, down a passage and across an anteroom, and ushered the visitorfinally into a spacious, gloomy hall, panelled in black oak and lightedas much by the piled-up fire that flared on the noble hearth as by thegrey daylight that filtered through the tall mullioned windows. 

As they entered, a liver-coloured hound that lay stretched before thefire growled lazily, and showed the whites of his eyes. Paying littleattention to the dog, Garnache looked about him. The apartment washandsome beyond praise, in a sombre, noble fashion. It was hungwith pictures of departed Condillacs--some of them rudely wroughtenough--with trophies of ancient armour, and with implements of thechase. In the centre stood an oblong table of black oak, very richlycarved about its massive legs, and in a china bowl, on this, an armfulof late roses filled the room with their sweet fragrance. 

Then Garnache espied a page on the window-seat, industriously burnishinga cuirass. He pursued his task, indifferent to the newcomer's advent, until the knave who had conducted thither the Parisian called the boyand bade him go tell the Marquise that a Monsieur de Garnache, with amessage from the Queen-Regent, begged an audience. 

The boy rose, and simultaneously, out of a great chair by the hearth, whose tall back had hitherto concealed him, there rose another figure. This was a stripling of some twenty summers--twenty-one, in fact--ofa pale, beautifully featured face, black hair and fine black eyes, andvery sumptuously clad in a suit of shimmering silk whose colour shiftedfrom green to purple as he moved. 

Monsieur de Garnache assumed that he was in the presence of Marius deCondillac. He bowed a trifle stiffly, and was surprised to have his bowreturned with a graciousness that amounted almost to cordiality. 

"You are from Paris, monsieur?" said the young man, in a gentle, pleasant voice. "I fear you have had indifferent weather for yourjourney. "

Garnache thought of other things besides the weather that he had foundindifferent, and he felt warmed almost to the point of anger at the veryrecollection. But he bowed again, and answered amiably enough. 

The young man offered him a seat, assuring him that his mother would notkeep him waiting long. The page had already gone upon his errand. 

Garnache took the proffered chair, and sank down with creak and jingleto warm himself at the fire. 

"From what you have said, I gather that you are Monsieur Marius deCondillac, " said he. "I, as you may have heard me announced by yourservant, am Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache--at your service. "

"We have heard of you, Monsieur de Garnache, " said the youth as hecrossed his shapely legs of silken violet, and fingered the great pearlthat depended from his ear. "But we had thought that by now you would beon your way to Paris. "

"No doubt--with Margot, " was the grim rejoinder. 

But Marius either gathered no suggestion from its grimness, or did notknow the name Garnache uttered, for he continued:

"We understood that you were to escort Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye toParis, to place her under the tutelage of the Queen-Regent. I will notconceal from you that we were chagrined at the reflection cast uponCondillac; nevertheless, Her Majesty's word is law in Dauphiny as muchas it is in Paris. "

"Quite as much, and I am relieved to hear you confess it, " said Garnachedrily, and he scanned more closely the face of this young man. He foundcause to modify the excellent impression he had received at first. Marius's eyebrows were finely pencilled, but they arched a shade toomuch, and his eyes were set a trifle too closely; the mouth, whichhad seemed beautiful at first, looked, in addition, on this closerinspection, weak, sensual, and cruel. 

There fell upon the momentary silence the sound of an opening door, andboth men rose simultaneously to their feet. 

In the splendid woman that entered, Monsieur de Garnache saw a wonderfullikeness to the boy who stood beside him. She received the emissary verygraciously. Marius set a chair for her between the two they had beenoccupying, and thus interchanging phrases of agreeable greeting thethree sat down about the hearth with every show of the greatest amity. 

A younger man might have been put out of countenance; the woman'ssurpassing beauty, her charm of manner, her melodious voice, fallingon the ear soft and gentle as a caress, might have turned a man of lessfirmness a little from his purpose, a little perhaps from his loyaltyand the duty that had brought him all the way from Paris. But Monsieurde Garnache was to her thousand graces as insensible as a man of stone. And he came to business briskly. He had no mind to spend the day at herfireside in pleasant, meaningless talk. 

"Madame, " said he, "monsieur your son informs me that you have heard ofme and of the business that brings me into Dauphiny. I had not lookedfor the honour of journeying quite so far as Condillac; but sinceMonsieur de Tressan, whom I made my ambassador, appears to have failedso signally, I am constrained to inflict my presence upon you. "

"Inflict?" quoth she, with a pretty look of make-believe dismay. "Howharsh a word, monsieur!"

The smoothness of the implied compliment annoyed him. 

"I will use any word you think more adequate, madame, if you willsuggest it, " he answered tartly. 

"There are a dozen I might suggest that would better fit the case--andwith more justice to yourself, " she answered, with a smile that revealeda gleam of white teeth behind her scarlet lips. "Marcus, bid Benoitbring wine. Monsieur de Garnache will no doubt be thirsting after hisride. "

Garnache said nothing. Acknowledge the courtesy he would not; refuse ithe could not. So he sat, and waited for her to speak, his eyes upon thefire. 

Madame had already set herself a course. Keener witted than her son, shehad readily understood, upon Garnache's being announced to her, that hisvisit meant the failure of the imposture by which she had sought to berid of him. 

"I think, monsieur, " she said presently, watching him from under herlids, "that we have, all of us who are concerned in Mademoiselle deLa Vauvraye's affairs, been at cross-purposes. She is an impetuous, impulsive child, and it happened that some little time ago we hadwords--such things will happen in the most united families. Whilst theheat of her foolish anger was upon her, she wrote a letter to theQueen, in which she desired to be removed from my tutelage. Since then, monsieur, she has come to repent her of it. You, who no doubt understanda woman's mind--"

"Set out upon no such presumption, madame, " he interrupted. "I know aslittle of a woman's mind as any man who thinks he knows a deal--and thatis nothing. "

She laughed as at an excellent jest, and Marius, overhearing Garnache'sretort as he was returning to resume his seat, joined in her laugh. 

"Paris is a fine whetstone for a man's wits, " said he. 

Garnache shrugged his shoulders. 

"I take it, madame, that you wish me to understand that Mademoisellede La Vauvraye, repenting of her letter, desires no longer to repair toParis; desires, in fact, to remain here at Condillac in your excellentcare. "

"You apprehend the position exactly, monsieur. "

"To my mind, " said he, "it presents few features difficult ofapprehension. "

Marius's eyes flashed his mother a look of relief; but the Marquise, whohad an ear more finely trained, caught the vibration of a second meaningin the emissary's words. 

"All being as you say, madame, " he continued, "will you tell me why, instead of some message to this purport, you sent Monsieur de Tressanback to me with a girl taken from some kitchen or barnyard, whom it wassought to pass off upon me as Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye?"

The Marquise laughed, and her son, who had shown signs of perturbation, taking his cue from her, laughed too. 

"It was a jest, monsieur"--she told him, miserably conscious that theexplanation could sound no lamer. 

"My compliments, madame, upon the humour that prevails in Dauphiny. Butyour jest failed of its purpose. It did not amuse me, nor, so far as Icould discern, was Monsieur de Tressan greatly taken with it. But allthis is of little moment, madame, " he continued. "Since you tell me thatMademoiselle de La Vauvraye is content to remain here, I am satisfiedthat it is so. "

They were the very words that she desired to hear from him; yet hismanner of uttering them gave her little reassurance. The smile on herlips was forced; her watchful eyes smiled not at all. 

"Still, " he continued, "you will be so good as to remember that I am notmy own master in this affair. Were that so, I should not fail to relieveyou at once of my unbidden presence. "

"Oh, monsieur--"

"But, being the Queen's emissary, I have her orders to obey, and thoseorders are to convey Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye to Paris. They makeno allowance for any change that may have occurred in mademoiselle'sinclinations. If the journey is now distasteful to her, she has but herown rashness to blame in having sought it herself. What imports is thatshe is bidden by the Queen to repair to Paris; as a loyal subject shemust obey the Queen's commands; you, as a loyal subject, must see toit that she obeys them. So, madame, I count upon your influence withmademoiselle to see that she is ready to set out by noon to-morrow. One day already has been wasted me by your--ah--jest, madame. The Queenlikes her ambassadors to be brisk. "

The Dowager reclined in her chair, and bit her lip. This man was tookeen for her. She had no illusions. He had seen through her as if shehad been made of glass; he had penetrated her artifices and detectedher falsehoods. Yet feigning to believe her and them, he had firstneutralized her only weapons--other than offensive--then used them forher own defeat. Marius it was who took up the conversation. 

"Monsieur, " he cried--and there was a frown drawing together his finebrows--"what you suggest amounts to a tyranny on the Queen's part. "

Garnache was on his feet, his chair grating the polished floor. 

"Monsieur says?" quoth he, his glittering eye challenging the rash boyto repeat his words. 

But the Dowager intervened with a little trill of laughter. 

"Bon Dieu! Marius, what are you saying? Foolish boy! And you, Monsieurde Garnache, do not heed him, I beg you. We are so far from Court inthis little corner of Dauphiny, and my son has been reared in so freean atmosphere that he is sometimes betrayed into expressions whoseimpropriety he does not realize. "

Garnache bowed in token of his perfect satisfaction, and at that momenttwo servants entered bearing flagons and beakers, fruits and sweetmeats, which they placed upon the table. The Dowager rose, and went to do thehonours of the board. The servants withdrew. 

"You will taste our wine of Condillac, monsieur?"

He acquiesced, expressing thanks, and watched her fill a beaker for him, one for herself, and another for her son. She brought him the cup inher hands. He took it with a grave inclination of the head. Then sheproffered him the sweetmeats. To take one, he set down the cup on thetable, by which he had also come to stand. His left hand was gloved andheld his beaver and whip. 

She nibbled, herself, at one of the comfits, and he followed herexample. The boy, a trifle sullen since the last words, stood on thehearth with his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him. 

"Monsieur, " she said, "do you think it would enable you to complywith what I have signified to be not only our own wishes, but those ofMademoiselle de La Vauvraye herself, if she were to state them to you?"

He looked up sharply, his lips parting in a smile that revealed hisstrong white teeth. 

"Are you proposing another of your jests, madame?"

She laughed outright. A wonderful assurance was hers, thought Monsieurde Garnache. "Mon Dieu! no, monsieur, " she cried. "If you will, you maysee the lady herself. "

He took a turn in the apartment, idly, as does a man in thought. 

"Very well, " said he, at last. "I do not say that it will alter mydetermination. But perhaps--yes, I should be glad of an opportunity ofthe honour of making Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye's acquaintance. But noimpersonations, I beg, madame!" He said it half-laughingly, taking hiscue from her. 

"You need have no fear of any. "

She walked to the door, opened it, and called "Gaston!" In answer camethe page whom Garnache had found in the room when he was admitted. 

"Desire Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye to come to us here at once, " shebade the boy, and closed the door. 

Garnache had been all eyes for some furtive sign, some whispered word;but he had surprised neither. 

His pacing had brought him to the opposite end of the board, where stoodthe cup of wine madame had poured for Marius. His own, Garnache, hadleft untouched. As if abstractedly, he now took up the beaker, pledgedmadame with his glance, and drank. She watched him, and suddenly asuspicion darted through her mind--a suspicion that he suspected them. 

Dieu! What a man was this! He took no chances. Madame reflected thatthis augured ill for the success of the last resource upon which, shouldall else fail, she was counting to keep mademoiselle at Condillac. Itseemed incredible that one so wary and watchful should have committedthe rashness of venturing alone into Condillac without taking hisprecautions to ensure his ability to retreat. 

In her heart she felt daunted by him. But in the matter of thatwine--the faintest of smiles hovered on her lips, her eyebrows went upa shade. Then she took up the cup that had been poured for the Parisian, and bore it to her son. 

"Marius, you are not drinking, " said she. And seeing a command in hereyes; he took the beaker from her hand and bore it to his lips, emptyingthe half of it, whilst with the faintest smile of scorn the Dowagerswept Garnache a glance of protest, as of one repudiating an unworthychallenge. 

Then the door opened, and the eyes of all three were centred upon thegirl that entered. 

CHAPTER V. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LOSES HIS TEMPER

"You sent for me, madame, " said the girl, seeming to hesitate upon thethreshold of the room, and her voice--a pleasant, boyish contralto--wasvery cold and conveyed a suggestion of disdain. 

The Marquise detected that inauspicious note, and was moved by it toregret her already of having embarked upon so bold a game as to confrontMonsieur de Garnache with Valerie. It was a step she had decided uponas a last means of convincing the Parisian of the truth of her statementtouching the change that had taken place in mademoiselle's inclinations. And she had provided for it as soon as she heard of Garnache's arrivalby informing mademoiselle that should she be sent for, she must tellthe gentleman from Paris that it was her wish to remain at Condillac. Mademoiselle had incontinently refused, and madame, to win hercompliance, had resorted to threats. 

"You will do as you consider best, of course, " she had said, in a voicethat was ominously sweet. "But I promise you that if you do otherwisethan as I tell you, you shall be married before sunset to Marius, whether you be willing or not. Monsieur de Garnache comes alone, and ifI so will it alone he shall depart or not at all. I have men enough atCondillac to see my orders carried out, no matter what they be. 

"You may tell yourself that this fellow will return to help you. Perhapshe will; but when he does, it will be too late so far as you shall beconcerned. "

Terrified by that threat, Valerie had blenched, and had felt her spiritdeserting her. 

"And if I comply, madame?" she had asked. "If I do as you wish, if Itell this gentleman that I no longer desire to go to Paris--what then?"

The Dowager's manner had become more affectionate. She had patted theshrinking girl upon the shoulder. "In that case, Valerie, you shallsuffer no constraint; you shall continue here as you have done. "

"And has there been no constraint hitherto?" had been the girl'sindignant rejoinder. 

"Hardly, child, " the Dowager had returned. "We have sought to guide youto a wise choice--no more than that. Nor shall we do more hereafter ifyou do my pleasure now and give this Monsieur de Garnache the answerthat I bid you. But if you fail me, remember--you marry Marius beforenightfall. "

She had not waited for the girl to promise her compliance. She was tooclever a woman to show anxiety on that score. She left her with thatthreat vibrating in her mind, confident that she would scare the girlinto obedience by the very assurance she exhibited that Valerie wouldnot dare to disobey. 

But now, at the sound of that chill voice, at the sight of that calm, resolved countenance, madame was regretting that she had not stayedto receive the girl's promise before she made so very sure of herpliability. 

She glanced anxiously at Garnache. His eyes were upon the girl. He wasremarking the slender, supple figure, moderately tall and looking tallerin its black gown of mourning; the oval face, a trifle pale now from theagitation that stirred her, with its fine level brows, its clear, hazel eyes, and its crown of lustrous brown hair rolled back under thedaintiest of white coifs. His glance dwelt appreciatively on the slendernose, with its delicate nostrils, the charming line of mouth and chin, the dazzling whiteness of her skin, conspicuous not only in neck andface but in the long, slender hands that were clasped before her. 

These signs of breeding, everywhere proclaimed, left him content thathere was no imposture; the girl before him was, indeed, Valerie de LaVauvraye. 

At madame's invitation she came forward. Marius hastened to close thedoor and to set a chair for her, his manner an admirable suggestion ofardour restrained by deference. 

She sat down with an outward calm under which none would have suspectedthe full extent of her agitation, and she bent her eyes upon the manwhom the Queen had sent for her deliverance. 

After all, Garnache's appearance was hardly suggestive of the role ofPerseus which had been thrust upon him. She saw a tall, spare man, with prominent cheek-bones, a gaunt, high-bridged nose, very fiercemustachios, and a pair of eyes that were as keen as sword-blades andfelt to her glance as penetrating. There was little about him liketo take a woman's fancy or claim more than a moderate share of herattention, even when circumstances rendered her as interested in him aswas now Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. 

There fell a silence, broken at last by Marius, who leaned, a supple, graceful figure, his elbow resting upon the summit of Valerie's chair. 

"Monsieur de Garnache does us the injustice to find a difficulty inbelieving that you no longer wish to leave us. "

That was by no means what Garnache had implied; still, since it reallyexpressed his mind, he did not trouble to correct Marius. 

Valerie said nothing, but her eyes travelled to madame's countenance, where she found a frown. Garnache observed the silence, and drew his ownconclusions. 

"So we have sent for you, Valerie, " said the Dowager, taking up herson's sentence, "that you may yourself assure Monsieur de Garnache thatit is so. "

Her voice was stern; it bore to the girl's ears a subtle, unwordedrepetition of the threat the Marquise had already voiced. Mademoisellecaught it, and Garnache caught it too, although he failed to interpretit as precisely as he would have liked. 

The girl seemed to experience a difficulty in answering. Her eyes rovedto Garnache's, and fell away in affright before their glitter. Thatman's glance seemed to read her very mind, she thought; and suddenlythe reflection that had terrified her became her hope. If it were as shedeemed it, what matter what she said? He would know the truth, in spiteof all. 

"Yes, madame, " she said at last, and her voice was wholly void ofexpression. "Yes, monsieur, it is as madame says. It is my wish toremain at Condillac. "

From the Dowager, standing a pace or two away from Garnache, came thesound of a half-sigh. Garnache missed nothing. He caught the sound, and accepted it as an expression of relief. The Marquise stepped back apace; idly, one might have thought; not so thought Garnache. It had thisadvantage: that it enabled her to stand where he might not watch herface without turning his head. He was content that such was her motive. To defeat her object, to show her that he had guessed it, he steppedback, too, also with that same idleness of air, so that he was once morein line with her. And then he spoke, addressing Valerie. 

"Mademoiselle, that you should have written to the Queen in haste isdeplorable now that your views have undergone this change. I am a stupidman, mademoiselle, just a blunt soldier with orders to obey and noauthority to think. My orders are to conduct you to Paris. Your willwas not taken into consideration. I know not how the Queen would have meact, seeing your reluctance; it may be that she would elect to leave youhere, as you desire. But it is not for me to arrogate to determine theQueen's mind. I can but be guided by her orders, and those ordersleave me no course but one--to ask you, mademoiselle, to make readyimmediately to go with me. "

The look of relief that swept into Valerie's face, the little flushof colour that warmed her cheeks, hitherto so pale, were all theconfirmation that he needed of what he suspected. 

"But, monsieur, " said Marius, "it must be plain to you that since theQueen's orders are but a compliance with mademoiselle's wishes, now thatmademoiselle's wishes have altered, so too would Her Majesty's commandsalter to comply with them once more. "

"That may be plain to you, monsieur; for me, unfortunately, there aremy orders for only guide, " Garnache persisted. "Does not mademoiselleherself agree with me?"

She was about to speak; her glance had looked eager, her lips hadparted. Then, of a sudden, the little colour faded from her cheeksagain, and she seemed stricken with a silence. Garnache's eyes, directedin a sidelong glance to the Marquise's face, surprised there a frownthat had prompted that sudden change. 

He half-turned, his manner changing suddenly to a freezing civility. 

"Madame la Marquise, " said he, "I beg with all deference to suggest thatI am not allowed the interview you promised me with Mademoiselle de LaVauvraye. "

The ominous coldness with which he had begun to speak had had adisturbing effect upon the Dowager; the words he uttered, when she hadweighed them, brought an immense relief. It seemed, then, that he butneeded convincing that this was Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. This arguedthat for the rest he was satisfied. 

"There, monsieur, you are at fault, " she cried, and she was smiling intohis grave eyes. "Because once I put that jest upon you, you imagine--"

"No, no, " he broke in. "You misapprehend me. I do not say that this isnot Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye; I do not say that--"

He paused; he was at the end of his resources. He did not know howto put the thing without giving offence, and it had been hisresolve--realizing the necessity for it--to conduct this matter with agrave courtesy. 

To feel that after having carried the affair so far with a forhim--commendable lightness of touch, he should be at a loss for adelicate word to convey a harsh accusation began to anger him. And onceGarnache began to be angered, the rest followed quickly. It was justthat flaw in his character that had been the ruin of him, that hadblighted what otherwise might have been a brilliant career. Astute andwily as a fox, brave as a lion, and active as a panther, gifted withintelligence, insight and resource, he had carried a dozen enterprisesup to the very threshold of success, there to have ruined them all bygiving way to some sudden access of choler. 

So was it now. His pause was but momentary. Yet in that moment, fromcalm and freezing that he had been, he became ruffled and hot. Thechange was visible in his heightened colour, in his flashing eyes, andin his twitching mustachios. For just a second he sought to smotherhis wrath; he had a glimmer of remembrance of the need for caution anddiplomacy in the darkness of anger that was descending over him. Then, without further warning, he exploded. 

His nervous, sinewy hand clenched itself and fell with a crash upon thetable, overturning a flagon and sending a lake of wine across the board, to trickle over at a dozen points and form in puddles at the feet ofValerie. Startled, they all watched him, mademoiselle the most startledof the three. 

"Madame, " he thundered, "I have been receiving dancing-lessons at yourhands for long enough. It is time, I think, we did a little ordinarywalking, else shall we get no farther along the road I mean to go andthat is the road to Paris with mademoiselle for company. "

"Monsieur, monsieur!" cried the startled Marquise, placing herselfintrepidly before him; and Marius trembled for her, for so wild did theman seem that he almost feared he might strike her. 

"I have heard enough, " he blazed. "Not another word from any here inCondillac! I'll take this lady with me now, at once; and if any hereraises a finger to resist me, as Heaven is my witness, it will be thelast resistance he will ever offer any man. Let a hand be laid upon me, or a sword bared before my eyes, and I swear, madame, that I'll comeback and burn this dunghill of rebellion to the ground. "

In the blindness of his passion all his fine keenness was cast to thewind, his all-observing watchfulness was smothered in the cloud of angerthat oppressed his brain. He never saw the sign that madame made to herson, never so much as noticed Marius's stealthy progress towards thedoor. 

"Oh, " he continued, a satirical note running now through his tempestuousvoice, "it is a fine thing to cozen each other with honeyed words, with smirks and with grimaces. But we have done with that, madame. " Hetowered grimly above her, shaking a threatening finger in her very face. "We have done with that. We shall resort to deeds, instead. "

"Aye, monsieur, " she answered very coldly, sneering upon his red-hotfury, "there shall be deeds enough to satisfy even your outrageousthirst for them. "

That cold, sneering voice, with its note of threat, was like a handof ice upon his overheated brain. It cooled him on the instant. Hestiffened, and looked about him. He saw that Marius had disappeared, and that mademoiselle had risen and was regarding him with singularlyimploring eyes. 

He bit his lip in mortified chagrin. He cursed himself inwardly for afool and a dolt--the more pitiable because he accounted himself cunningabove others. Had he but kept his temper, had he done no more thanmaintain the happy pretence that he was a slave to the orders hehad received--a mere machine--he might have gained his ends by sheeraudacity. At least, his way of retreat would have remained open, and hemight have gone, to return another day with force at his heels. 

As it was, that pretty whelp, her son, had been sent, no doubt, for men. He stepped up to Valerie. 

"Are you ready, mademoiselle?" said he; for little hope though he mightstill have of winning through, yet he must do the best to repair thedamage that was of his making. 

She saw that the storm of passion had passed, and she was infected bythe sudden, desperate daring that prompted that question of his. 

"I am ready, monsieur, " said she, and her boyish voice had an intrepidring. "I will come with you as I am. "

"Then, in God's name, let us be going. "

They moved together towards the door, with never another glance for theDowager where she stood, patting the head of the hound that had risenand come to stand beside her. In silence she watched them, a sinistersmile upon her beautiful, ivory face. 

Then came a sound of feet and voices in the anteroom. The door was flungviolently open, and a half-dozen men with naked swords came blunderinginto the room, Marius bringing up the rear. 

With a cry of fear Valerie shrank back against the panelled wall, herlittle hands to her cheeks, her eyes dilating with alarm. 

Garnache's sword rasped out, an oath rattled from his clenched teeth, and he fell on guard. The men paused, and took his measure. Marius urgedthem on, as if they had been a pack of dogs. 

"At him!" he snapped, his finger pointing, his handsome eyes flashingangrily. "Cut him down!"

They moved; but mademoiselle moved at the same moment. She sprang beforethem, between their swords and their prey. 

"You shall not do it; you shall not do it!" she cried, and her facelooked drawn, her eyes distraught. "It is murder--murder, you curs!" Andthe memory of how that dainty little lady stood undaunted before so muchbared steel, to shield him from those assassins, was one that abode everafter with Garnache. 

"Mademoiselle, " said he, in a quiet voice, "if you will but stand asidethere will be some murder done among them first. "

But she did not move. Marius clenched his hands, fretted by the delay. The Dowager looked on and smiled and patted her dog's head. To hermademoiselle now turned in appeal. 

"Madame, " she exclaimed, "you'll not allow it. You'll not let themdo this thing. Bid them put up their swords, madame. Bethink you thatMonsieur de Garnache is here in the Queen's name. "

Too well did madame bethink her of it. Garnache need not plague himselfwith vexation that his rash temper alone had wrought his ruin now. Ithad but accelerated it. It was just possible, perhaps, that suavitymight have offered him opportunities; but, for the rest, from the momentthat he showed himself firm in his resolve to carry mademoiselle toParis, his doom was sealed. Madame would never willingly have allowedhim to leave Condillac alive, for she realized that did she do so hewould stir up trouble enough to have them outlawed. He must perish here, and be forgotten. If questions came to be asked later, Condillac wouldknow nothing of him. 

"Monsieur de Garnache promised us some fine deeds on his own account, "she mocked him. "We but afford him the opportunity to perform them. Ifthese be not enough for his exceeding valour, there are more men withoutwhom we can summon. "

A feeling of pity for mademoiselle--perhaps of no more than decency--nowovercame Marius. He stepped forward. 

"Valerie, " he said, "it is not fitting you should remain. "

"Aye, take her hence, " the Dowager bade him, with a smile. "Her presenceis unmanning our fine Parisian. "

Eager to do so, over-eager, Marius came forward, past his men-at-arms, until he was but some three paces from the girl and just out of reach ofa sudden dart of Garnache's sword. 

Softly, very warily, Garnache slipped his right foot a little farther tothe right. Suddenly he threw his weight upon it, so that he was clear ofthe girl. Before they understood what he was about, the thing had takenplace. He had leaped forward, caught the young man by the breast of hisshimmering doublet, leaped back to shelter beyond mademoiselle, hurledMarius to the ground, and planted his foot, shod as it was in histhickly mudded riding-boot, full upon the boy's long, shapely neck. 

"Move so much as a finger, my pretty fellow, " he snapped at him, "andI'll crush the life from you as from a toad. "

There was a sudden forward movement on the part of the men; but ifGarnache was vicious, he was calm. Were he again to lose his temper now, there would indeed be a speedy end to him. That much he knew, and keptrepeating to himself, lest he should be tempted to forget it. 

"Back!" he bade them in a voice so imperative that they stopped, andlooked on with gaping mouths. "Back, or he perishes!" And dropping thepoint of his sword, he lightly rested it upon the young man's breast. 

In dismay they looked to the Dowager for instruction. She cranedforward, the smile gone from her lips, a horror in her eyes, her bosomheaving. A moment ago she had smiled upon mademoiselle's outward signsof fear; had mademoiselle been so minded, she might in her turn havesmiled now at the terror written large upon the Dowager's own face. But her attention was all absorbed by the swiftly executed act by whichGarnache had gained at least a temporary advantage. 

She had turned and looked at the strange spectacle of that dauntlessman, erect, his foot upon Marius's neck, like some fantastic figure ofa contemporary Saint George and a contemporary dragon. She pressed herhands tighter upon her bosom; her eyes sparkled with an odd approval ofthat brisk deed. 

But Garnache's watchful eyes were upon the Dowager. He read the anxiousfear that marred the beauty of her face, and he took heart at the sight, for he was dependent upon the extent to which he might work upon herfeelings. 

"You smiled just now, madame, when it was intended to butcher a manbefore your eyes. You smile no longer, I observe, at this the first ofthe fine deeds I promised you. "

"Let him go, " she said, and her voice was scarce louder than a whisper, horror-laden. "Let him go, monsieur, if you would save your own neck. "

"At that price, yes--though, believe me, you are paying too much for sopoor a life as this. Still, you value the thing, and I hold it; and soyou'll forgive me if I am extortionate. "

"Release him, and, in God's name, go your ways. None shall stay you, "she promised him. 

He smiled. "I'll need some security for that. I do not choose to takeyour word for it, Madame de Condillac. "

"What security can I give you?" she cried, wringing her hands, her eyeson the boy's ashen face ashen from mingling fear and rage--where itshowed beyond Garnache's heavy boot. 

"Bid one of your knaves summon my servant. I left him awaiting me in thecourtyard. "

The order was given, and one of the cut-throats departed. 

In a tense and anxious silence they awaited his return, though he keptthem but an instant. 

Rabecque's eyes took on a startled look when he had viewed thesituation. Garnache called to him to deprive those present of theirweapons. 

"And let none refuse, or offer him violence, " he added, "or yourmaster's life shall pay the price of it. "

The Dowager with a ready anxiety repeated to them his commands. Rabecque, understanding nothing, went from man to man, and received fromeach his weapons. He placed the armful on the windowseat, at the farend of the apartment, as Garnache bade him. At the other end of the longroom, Garnache ordered the disarmed men to range themselves. When thatwas done, the Parisian removed his foot from his victim's neck. 

"Stand up, " he commanded, and Marius very readily obeyed him. 

Garnache placed himself immediately behind the boy. "Madame, " said he, "no harm shall come to your son if he is but wise. Let him disobey me, or let any man in Condillac lift a hand against us, and that shall bethe signal for Monsieur de Condillac's death. Mademoiselle, it is yourwish to accompany me to Paris?"

"Yes, monsieur, " she answered fearlessly, her eyes sparkling now. 

"We will be going then. Place yourself alongside of Monsieur deCondillac. Rabecque, follow me. Forward, Monsieur de Condillac. You willbe so good as to conduct us to our horses in the courtyard. "

They made an odd procession as they marched out of the hall, underthe sullen eyes of the baulked cut-throats and their mistress. On thethreshold Garnache paused, and looked over his shoulder. 

"Are you content, madame? Have you seen fine deeds enough for oneday?" he asked her, laughing. But, white to the lips with chagrin, shereturned no answer. 

Garnache and his party crossed the anteroom, after having takenthe precaution to lock the door upon the Marquise and her men, andproceeding down a gloomy passage they gained the courtyard. Here Mariuswas consoled to find some men of the garrison of Condillac a half-score, or so--all more or less armed, surrounding the horses of Garnache andhis lackey. At sight of the odd group that now appeared those ruffiansstood at gaze, surprised, and with suspicions aroused by Garnache'snaked sword, ready for anything their master might demand of them. 

Marius had in that instant a gleam of hope. Thus far, Garnache had beenmaster of the situation. But surely the position would be reversedwhen Garnache and his man came to mount their horses, particularlyconsidering how hampered they must be by Valerie. This danger Garnache, however, was no less quick to perceive, and with a dismaying promptnessdid he take his measures. 

"Remember, " he threatened Monsieur de Condillac, "if any of your menshow their teeth it will be the worse for you. " They had come to a halton the threshold of the courtyard. "You will be so good as to bid themretreat through that doorway across the yard yonder. "

Marius hesitated. "And if I refuse?" he demanded hardily, but keepinghis back to Garnache. The men stirred, and stray words of minglingwonder and anger reached the Parisian. 

"You will not, " said Garnache, with quiet confidence. 

"I think you make too sure, " Marius replied, and dissembled hismisgivings in a short laugh. Garnache became impatient. His position wasnot being improved by delay. 

"Monsieur de Condillac, " said he, speaking quickly and yet with anincisiveness of tone that made his words sound deliberate, "I am adesperate man in a desperate position. Every moment that I tarry hereincreases my danger and shortens my temper. If you think to temporizein the hope of gaining an opportunity of turning the tables upon me, youmust be mad to dream that I shall permit it. Monsieur, you will at onceorder those men to leave the courtyard by that doorway, or I give you myword of honour that I shall run you through as you stand. "

"That would be to destroy yourself, " said Marius with an attempted noteof confidence. 

"I should be no less destroyed by delay, " answered Garnache; and addedmore sharply, "Give the word, monsieur, or I will make an end. "

From the movement behind him Marius guessed almost by instinct thatGarnache had drawn back for a lunge. At his side Valerie looked over hershoulder, with eyes that were startled but unafraid. For a second Mariusconsidered whether he might not attempt to elude Garnache by a wild andsudden dash towards his men. But the consequences of failure were toofearful. 

He shrugged his shoulders, and gave the order. The men hesitated amoment, then shuffled away in the direction indicated. But they wentslowly, with much half-whispered, sullen conferring and many a backwardglance at Marius and those with him. 

"Bid them go faster, " snapped Garnache. Marius obeyed him, and the menobeyed Marius, and vanished into the gloom of the archway. Afterall, thought Monsieur de Condillac, they need go no farther than thatdoorway; they must have appreciated the situation by now; and he wasconfident they would have the sense to hold themselves in readiness fora rush in the moment of Garnache's mounting. 

But Garnache's next order shattered that last hope. 

"Rebecque, " said he, without turning his head, "go and lock them in. "Before bidding the men go that way, he had satisfied himself thatthere was a key on the outside of the door. "Monsieur de Condillac, "he resumed to Marius, "you will order your men in no way to hinder myservant. I shall act upon any menace of danger to my lackey precisely asI should were I, myself, in danger. "

Marius's heart sank within him, as sinks a stone through water. Herealized, as his mother had realized a little while before, that inGarnache they had an opponent who took no chances. In a voice thick withthe torturing rage of impotence he gave the order upon which the grimParisian insisted. There followed a silence broken by the fall ofRabecque's heavily shod feet upon the stones of the yard, as he crossedit to do his master's bidding. The door creaked on its hinges; the keygrated screaming in its lock, and Rabecque returned to Garnache's sideeven as Garnache tapped Marius on the shoulder. 

"This way, Monsieur de Condillac, if you please, " said he, and as Mariusturned at last to face him, he stood aside and waved his left handtowards the door through which they had lately emerged. A moment stoodthe youth facing his stern conqueror; his hands were clenched until theknuckles showed white; his face was a dull crimson. Vainly he soughtfor words in which to vent some of the malicious chagrin that filledhis soul almost to bursting-point. Then, despairing, with a shrug and aninarticulate mutter, he flung past the Parisian, obeying him as the curobeys, with pendant tail and teeth-revealing snarl. 

Garnache closed the door upon him with a bang, and smiled quietly as heturned to Valerie. 

"I think we have won through, mademoiselle, " said he, with pardonablevanity. "The rest is easy, though you may be subjected to some slightdiscomfort between this and Grenoble. "

She smiled back at him, a pale, timid smile, like a gleam of sunshinefrom a wintry sky. "That matters nothing, " she assured him, and stroveto make her voice sound brave. 

There was need for speed, and compliments were set aside by Garnache, who, at his best, was not felicitous with them. Valerie felt herselfcaught by the wrist, a trifle roughly she remembered afterwards, andhurried across the cobbles to the tethered horses, with which Rabecquewas already busy. She saw Garnache raise his foot to the stirrup andhoist himself to the saddle. Then he held down a hand to her, bade herset her foot on his, and called with an oath to Rabecque to lend her hisassistance. A moment later she was perched in front of Garnache, almoston the withers of his horse. The cobbles rattled under its hooves, thetimbers of the drawbridge sent up a booming sound, they were across--outof Condillac--and speeding at a gallop down the white road that led tothe river; after them pounded Rabecque, bumping horribly in hissaddle, and attempting wildly, and with awful objurgations, to find hisstirrups. 

They crossed the bridge that spans the Isere and took the road toGrenoble at a sharp pace, with scarce a backward glance at the greytowers of Condillac. Valerie experienced an overwhelming inclination toweep and laugh, to cry and sing at one and the same time; but whetherthis odd emotion sprang from the happenings in which she had had herpart, or from the exhilaration of that mad ride, she could not tell. Nodoubt it sprang from both, owing a part to each. She controlled herself, however. A shy, upward glance at the stern, set face of the man whosearm encircled and held her fast had a curiously sobering effect uponher. Their eyes met, and he smiled a friendly, reassuring smile, such asa father might have bestowed upon a daughter. 

"I do not think that they will charge me with blundering this time, " hesaid. 

"Charge you with blundering?" she echoed; and the inflection of thepronoun might have flattered him had he not reflected that it wasimpossible she could have understood his allusion. And now she bethoughther that she had not thanked him--and the debt was a heavy one. Hehad come to her aid in an hour when hope seemed dead. He had comesingle-handed--save for his man Rabecque; and in a manner that wasworthy of being made the subject of an epic, he had carried her outof Condillac, away from the terrible Dowager and her cut-throats. Thethought of them sent a shiver through her. 

"Do you feel the cold?" he asked concernedly; and that the wind mightcut her less, he slackened speed. 

"No, no, " she cried, her alarm waking again at the thought of thefolk of Condillac. "Make haste! Go on, go on! Mon Dieu! if they shouldovertake us!"

He looked over his shoulder. The road ran straight for over a half-milebehind them, and not a living thing showed upon it. 

"You need have no alarm, " he smiled. "We are not pursued. They musthave realized the futility of attempting to overtake us. Courage, mademoiselle. We shall be in Grenoble presently, and once there, youwill have nothing more to fear. "

"You are sure of that?" she asked, and there was doubt in her voice. 

He smiled reassuringly again. "The Lord Seneschal shall supply us withan escort, " he promised confidently. 

"Still, " she said, "we shall not stay there, I hope, monsieur. "

"No longer than may be necessary to procure a coach for you. "

"I am glad of that, " said she. "I shall know no peace until Grenoble isa good ten leagues behind us. The Marquise and her son are too powerfulthere. "

"Yet their might shall not prevail against the Queen's, " he made reply. And as now they rode amain she fell to thanking him, shyly at first, then, as she gathered confidence in her subject, with a greater fervour. But he interrupted her ere she had gone far, "Mademoiselle de LaVauvraye, " said he, "you overstate the matter. " His tone was chillingalmost; and she felt as she had been rebuked. "I am no more than theemissary of Her Majesty--it is to her that your thanks are due. "

"Ah, but, monsieur, " she returned to the assault, "I owe some thanksto you as well. What other in your place would have done what you havedone?"

"I know not that, nor do I greatly care, " said he, and laughed, butwith a laugh that jarred on her. "That which I did I must have done, nomatter whom it was a question of saving. I am but an instrument in thismatter, mademoiselle. "

His thought was to do no more than belittle the service he had renderedher, to stem her flow of gratitude, since, indeed, he felt, as he said, that it was to the Queen-Regent her thanks were due. All unwitting wasit--out of his ignorance of the ways of thought of a sex with which heheld the view that it is an ill thing to meddle--that he wounded her byhis disclaimer, in which her sensitive maiden fancy imagined a somethingthat was almost contemptuous. 

They rode in silence for a little spell, broken at last by Garnache inexpression of the thoughts that had come to him as a consequence of whatshe had said. 

"On this same subject of thanks, " said he--and as she raised her eyesagain she found him smiling almost tenderly--"if any are due between usthey are surely due from me to you. "

"From you to me?" she asked in wonder. 

"Assuredly, " said he. "Had you not come between me and the Dowager'sassassins there had been an end to me in the hall of Condillac. "

Her hazel eyes were very round for a moment, then they narrowed, andlittle humorous lines formed at the corners of her lips. 

"Monsieur de Garnache, " said she, with a mock coldness that was a faintecho of his own recent manner, "you overstate the case. That which I didI must have done, no matter whom it was a question of saving. I was butan instrument in this matter, monsieur. "

His brows went up. He stared at her a moment, gathering instruction fromthe shy mockery of her glance. Then he laughed with genuine amusement. 

"True, " he said. "An instrument you were; but an instrument of Heaven, whereas in me you but behold the instrument of an earthly power. We arenot quite quits, you see. "

But she felt, at least, that she was quits with him in the matter of hisrepudiation of her own thanks, and the feeling bridged the unfriendlygap that she had felt was opening out between them; and for no reason inthe world that she could think of, she was glad that this was so. 

CHAPTER VI. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE KEEPS HIS TEMPER

Night had fallen and it had begun to rain when Garnache and Valeriereached Grenoble. They entered the town afoot, the Parisian not desiringto attract attention by being seen in the streets with a lady on thewithers of his horse. 

With thought for her comfort, Monsieur de Garnache had divested himselfof his heavy horseman's cloak and insisted upon her assuming it, sosetting it about her that her head was covered as by a wimple. Thuswas she protected not only from the rain, but from the gaze of theinquisitive. 

They made their way in the drizzle, through the greasy, slipperystreets ashine with the lights that fell from door and window, Rabecquefollowing closely with the horses. Garnache made straight for hisinn--the Auberge du Veau qui Tete--which enjoyed the advantage of facingthe Palais Seneschal. 

The ostler took charge of the nags, and the landlord conducted them toa room above-stairs, which he placed at mademoiselle's disposal. That done, Garnache left Rabecque on guard, and proceeded to make thenecessary arrangements for the journey that lay before them. He began bywhat he conceived to be the more urgent measure, and stepping across tothe Palais Seneschal, he demanded to see Monsieur de Tressan at once. 

Ushered into the Lord Seneschal's presence, he startled that obesegentleman by the announcement that he had returned from Condillac withMademoiselle de La Vauvraye, and that he would require an escort toaccompany them to Paris. 

"For I am by no means minded to be exposed to such measures as thetigress of Condillac and her cub may take to recover their victim, " heexplained with a grim smile. 

The Seneschal combed his beard and screwed up his pale eyes until theyvanished in the cushions of his cheeks. He was lost in amazement. He could only imagine that the Queen's emissary had been duped moresuccessfully this time. 

"I am to gather, then, " said he, dissembling what was passing throughhis mind, "that you delivered the lady by force or strategy. "

"By both, monsieur, " was the short answer. 

Tressan continued to comb his beard, and pondered the situation. Ifthings were so, indeed, they could not have fallen out more to histaste. He had had no hand in it, one way or the other. He had run withthe hare and hunted with the hounds, and neither party could charge himwith any lack of loyalty. His admiration and respect for Monsieur deGarnache grew enormously. When the rash Parisian had left him thatafternoon for the purpose of carrying his message himself to Condillac, Tressan had entertained little hope of ever again seeing him alive. Yet there he stood, as calm and composed as ever, announcing thatsinglehanded he had carried out what another might well have hesitatedto attempt with a regiment at his heels. 

Tressan's curiosity urged him to beg for the details of this marvel, andGarnache entertained him with a brief recital of what had takenplace, whereat, realizing that Garnache had indeed outwitted them, theSeneschal's wonder increased. 

"But we are not out of the quagmire yet, " cried Garnache; "and that iswhy I want an escort. "

Tressan became uneasy. "How many men shall you require?" he asked, thinking that the Parisian would demand at least the half of a company. 

"A half-dozen and a sergeant to command them. "

Tressan's uneasiness was dissipated, and he found himself despisingGarnache more for his rashness in being content with so small a numberthan he respected him for the boldness and courage he had so latelydisplayed. It was not for him to suggest that the force might proveinsufficient; rather was it for him to be thankful that Garnache had notasked for more. An escort Tressan dared not refuse him, and yet refuseit him he must have done--or broken with the Condillacs--had he askedfor a greater number. But six men! Pooh! they would be of littleaccount. So he very readily consented, inquiring how soon Garnache wouldrequire them. 

"At once, " was the Parisian's answer. "I leave Grenoble to-night. I hopeto set out in an hour's time. Meanwhile I'll have the troopers form aguard of honour. I am lodged over the way. "

Tressan, but too glad to be quit of him, rose there and then to givethe necessary orders, and within ten minutes Garnache was back at theSucking Calf with six troopers and a sergeant, who had left their horsesin the Seneschal's stables until the time for setting out. MeanwhileGarnache placed them on duty in the common-room of the inn. 

He called for refreshment for them, and bade them remain there at theorders of his man Rabecque. His reason for this step was that it becamenecessary that he should absent himself for a while to find a carriagesuitable for the journey; for as the Sucking Calf was not a post-househe must seek one elsewhere--at the Auberge de France, in fact, which wassituate on the eastern side of the town by the Porte de Savoie--andhe was not minded to leave the person of Valerie unguarded during hisabsence. The half-dozen troopers he considered ample, as indeed theywere. 

On this errand he departed, wrapped tightly in his cloak, walkingbriskly through the now heavier rain. 

But at the Auberge de France a disappointment awaited him. The hosthad no horses and no carriage, nor would he have until the followingmorning. He was sorrow-stricken that the circumstance should discomposeMonsieur de Garnache; he was elaborate in his explanations of howit happened that he could place no vehicle at Monsieur de Garnache'sdisposal--so elaborate that it is surprising Monsieur de Garnache'ssuspicions should not have been aroused. For the truth of the matterwas that the folk of Condillac had been at the Auberge de France beforehim--as they had been elsewhere in the town wherever a conveyance mightbe procurable--and by promises of reward for obedience and threats ofpunishment for disobedience, they had contrived that Garnache shouldhear this same story on every hand. His mistake had lain in hiseagerness to obtain a guard from the Seneschal. Had he begun by makingsure of a conveyance, anticipating, as he should have done, this move onthe part of the Condillacs--a move which he did not even now suspect--itis possible that he might have been spared much of the trouble that wasto follow. 

An hour or so later, after having vainly ransacked the town for thething he needed, he returned wet and annoyed to the Veau qui Tote. In acorner of the spacious common-room--a corner by the door leading to theinterior of the inn--he saw the six troopers at table, waxing a triflenoisy over cards. Their sergeant sat a little apart, in conversationwith the landlord's wife, eyes upturned adoringly, oblivious of theincreasing scowl that gathered about her watchful husband's brow. 

At another table sat four gentlemen--seemingly travellers, by their airand garb--in a conversation that was hushed at Garnache's entrance. But he paid no heed to them as he stalked with ringing step across therushstrewn floor, nor observed how covertly and watchfully their glancesfollowed him as returning, in passing the sergeant's prompt salute hevanished through the doorway leading to the stairs. 

He reappeared again a moment later, to call the host, and give himorders for the preparing of his own and Rabecque's supper. 

On the landing above he found Rabecque awaiting him. 

"Is all well?" he asked, and received from his lackey a reassuringanswer. 

Mademoiselle welcomed him gladly. His long absence, it appeared, hadbeen giving her concern. He told her on what errand he had been, andalarm overspread her face upon hearing its result. 

"But, monsieur, " she cried, "you are not proposing that I should remaina night in Grenoble. "

"What alternative have we?" he asked, and his brows met, impatient atwhat he accounted no more than feminine whimsey. 

"It is not safe, " she exclaimed, her fears increasing. "You do not knowhow powerful are the Condillacs. "

He strode to the fire, and the logs hissed under the pressure of his wetboot. He set his back to the blaze, and smiled down upon her. 

"Nor do you know how powerful are we, " he answered easily. "I have belowsix troopers and a sergeant of the Seneschal's regiment; with myselfand Rabecque we are nine men in all. That should be a sufficient guard, mademoiselle. Nor do I think that with all their power the Condillacswill venture here to claim you at the sword point. "

"And yet, " she answered, for all that she was plainly reassured, atleast in part, "I would rather you had got me a horse, that we mighthave ridden to Saint Marcellin, where no doubt a carriage might beobtained. "

"I did not see the need to put you to so much discomfort, " he returned. "It is raining heavily. "

"Oh, what of that?" she flung back impatiently. 

"Besides, " he added, "it seems there are no horses at the post-house. Abenighted place this Dauphiny of yours, mademoiselle. "

But she never heeded the gibe at her native province. "No horses?" sheechoed, and her hazel eyes looked up sharply, the alarm returning to herface. She rose, and approached him. "Surely that is impossible. "

"I assure you that it is as I say--neither at the post-house nor at anyof the inns I visited could I find me a spare horse. "

"Monsieur, " she cried, "I see the hand of Condillac in this. "

"As how?" he inquired, and his tone again was quickened by impatience. 

"They have anticipated you. They seek to keep you here--to keep us inGrenoble. "

"But to what end?" he asked, his impatience growing. "The Auberge deFrance has promised me a carriage in the morning. What shall it availthem at Condillac to keep us here to-night?"

"They may have some project. Oh, monsieur! I am full of fears. "

"Dismiss them, " he answered lightly; and to reassure her he added, smiling: "Rest assured we shall keep good watch over you, Rabecque andI and the troopers. A guard shall remain in the passage throughout thenight. Rabecque and I will take turn about at sentry-go. Will that giveyou peace?"

"You are very good, " she said, her voice quivering with feeling and realgratitude, and as he was departing she called after him. "You will becareful of yourself, " she said. 

He paused under the lintel, and turned, surprised. "It is a habit ofmine, " said he, with a glint of humour in his eye. 

But there was no answering smile from her. Her face was all anxiety. 

"Beware of pitfalls, " she bade him. "Go warily; they are cruellycunning, those folk of Condillac. And if evil should befall you... "

"There would still remain Rabecque and the troopers, " he concluded. 

She shrugged her shoulders. "I implore you to be careful, " she insisted. 

"You may depend upon me, " he said, and closed the door. 

Outside he called Rabecque, and together they went below. But mindful ofher fears, he dispatched one of the troopers to stand sentry outside herdoor whilst he and his lackey supped. That done, he called the host, andset himself at table, Rabecque at his elbow in attendance to hand himthe dishes and pour his wine. 

Across the low-ceilinged room the four travellers still sat in talk, andas Garnache seated himself, one of them shouted for the host and askedin an impatient tone to know if his supper was soon to come. 

"In a moment, sir, " answered the landlord respectfully, and he turnedagain to the Parisian. He went out to bring the latter's meal, andwhilst he was gone Rabecque heard from his master the reason of theirremaining that night in Grenoble. The inference drawn by the astutelackey--and freely expressed by him--from the lack of horses orcarriages in Grenoble that night, coincided oddly with Valerie's. Hetoo gave it as his opinion that his master had been forestalled bythe Dowager's people, and without presuming to advise Garnache to gowarily--a piece of advice that Garnache would have resented, to theextent perhaps of boxing the fellow's ears--he determined, there andthen, to keep a close watch upon his master, and under no circumstances, if possible, permit him to leave the Sucking Calf that night. 

The host returned, bearing a platter on which there steamed a ragoutthat gave out an appetizing odour; his wife followed with other dishesand a bottle of Armagnac under her arm. Rabecque busied himself atonce, and his hungry master disposed himself to satisfy the healthiestappetite in France, when suddenly a shadow fell across the table. A manhad come to stand beside it, his body screening the light of one of thelamps that hung from a rafter of the ceiling. 

"At last!" he exclaimed, and his voice was harsh with ill-humour. 

Garnache looked up, pausing in the very act of helping himself tothat ragout. Rabecque looked up from behind his master, and his lipstightened. The host looked up from the act of drawing the cork of theflagon he had taken from his wife, and his eyes grew big as in his mindhe prepared a judicious blend of apology and remonstrance wherewithto soothe this very impatient gentleman. But before he could speak, Garnache's voice cut sharply into the silence. An interruption at such amoment vexed him sorely. 

"Monsieur says?" quoth he. 

"To you, sir--nothing, " answered the fellow impudently, and looked himstraight between the eyes. 

With a flush mounting to his cheeks, and his brows drawn together inperplexity, Garnache surveyed him. He was that same traveller who hadlately clamoured to know when he might sup, a man of rather more thanmiddle height, lithe and active of frame, yet with a breadth of shoulderand depth of chest that argued strength and endurance as well. He hadfair, wavy hair, which he wore rather longer than was the mode, browneyes, and a face which, without being handsome, was yet more thanordinarily engaging by virtue of its strength and frank ingenuousness. His dress was his worst feature. It was flamboyant and showy; cheap, andtawdrily pretentious. Yet he bore himself with the easy dignity of a manwho counts more inferiors than superiors. 

Despite the arrogant manner of his address, Garnache felt prepossessedin the newcomer's favour. But before he could answer him, the host wasspeaking. 

"Monsieur mistakes... " he began. 

"Mistakes?" thundered the other in an accent slightly foreign. "It isyou who mistake if you propose to tell me that this is not my supper. Am I to wait all night, while every jackanapes who follows me into yourpigsty is to be served before me?"

"Jackanapes?" said Garnache thoughtfully, and looked the man in the faceagain. Behind the stranger pressed his three companions now, whilst thetroopers across the room forgot their card-play to watch the altercationthat seemed to impend. 

The foreigner--for such, indeed, his French proclaimed him--turnedhalf-contemptuously to the host, ignoring Garnache with an air that wasstudiously offensive. 

"Jackanapes?" murmured Garnache again, and he, too, turned to the host. "Tell me, Monsieur l'Hote, " said he, "where do the jackanapes bury theirdead in Grenoble? I may need the information. "

Before the distressed landlord could utter a word, the stranger hadwheeled about again to face Garnache. "What shall that mean?" he askedsharply, a great fierceness in his glance. 

"That Grenoble may be witnessing the funeral of a foreign bully byto-morrow, Monsieur l'Etranger, " said Garnache, showing his teeth in apleasant smile. He became conscious in that moment of a pressure on hisshoulder blade, but paid no heed to it, intent on watching the other'scountenance. It expressed surprise a moment, then grew dark with anger. 

"Do you mean that for me, sir?" he growled. 

Garnache spread his hands. "If monsieur feels that the cap fits him, Ishall not stay him in the act of donning it. "

The stranger set one hand upon the table, and leaned forward towardsGarnache. "May I ask monsieur to be a little more definite?" he begged. 

Garnache sat back in his chair and surveyed the man, smiling. Quickthough his temper usually might be, it was checked at present byamusement. He had seen in his time many quarrels spring from theflimsiest of motives, but surely never had he seen one quite soself-begotten. It was almost as if the fellow had come there of setpurpose to pick it with him. 

A suspicion flashed across his mind. He remembered the warningmademoiselle had given him. And he wondered. Was this a trick to lurehim to some guet-apens? He surveyed his man more closely; but theinspection lent no colour to his suspicions. The stranger looked sofrank and honest; then again his accent was foreign. It might very wellbe that he was some Savoyard lordling unused to being kept waiting, and that his hunger made him irritable and impatient. If that were so, assuredly the fellow deserved a lesson that should show him he was nowin France, where different manners obtained to those that he displayed;yet, lest he should be something else, Garnache determined to pursue apolicy of conciliation. It would be a madness to embroil himself justthen, whether this fellow were of Condillac or not. 

"I have asked you, monsieur, " the stranger insisted, "to be a littlemore definite. "

Garnache's smile broadened and grew more friendly. "Frankly, " said he, "I experience difficulty. My remark was vague. I meant it so to be. "

"But it offended me, monsieur, " the other answered sharply. 

The Parisian raised his eyebrows, and pursed his lips. "Then I deploreit, " said he. And now he had to endure the hardest trial of all. Thestranger's expression changed to one of wondering scorn. 

"Do I understand that monsieur apologizes?"

Garnache felt himself crimsoning; his self-control was slipping fromhim; the pressure against his shoulder blade was renewed, and in time hebecame aware of it and knew it for a warning from Rabecque. 

"I cannot conceive, sir, that I have offended, " said he at length, keeping a tight hand upon his every instinct--which was to knock thisimpertinent stranger down. "But if I have, I beg that you will believethat I have done so unwittingly. I had no such intent. "

The stranger removed his hand from the table and drew himself erect. 

"So much for that, then, " said he, provokingly contemptuous. "If youwill be as amiable in the matter of the supper I shall be glad toterminate an acquaintance which I can see no honour to myself inpursuing. "

This, Garnache felt, was more than he could endure. A spasm of passioncrossed his face, another instant and despite Rabecque's franticproddings he might have flung the ragout in the gentleman's face; whensuddenly came the landlord unexpectedly to the rescue. 

"Monsieur, here comes your supper now, " he announced, as his wifereentered from the kitchen with a laden tray. 

For a moment the stranger seemed out of countenance. Then he looked withcold insolence from the dishes set before Garnache to those which werebeing set for himself. 

"Ah, " said he, and his tone was an insult unsurpassable, "perhaps it isto be preferred. This ragout grows cold, I think. "

He sniffed, and turning on his heel, without word or sign of salutationto Garnache, he passed to the next table, and sat down with hiscompanions. The Parisian's eyes followed him, and they blazedwith suppressed wrath. Never in all his life had he exercised suchself-control as he was exercising then--which was the reason why he hadfailed to achieve greatness--and he was exercising it for the sake ofthat child above-stairs, and because he kept ever-present in his mindthe thought that she must come to grievous harm if ill befell himself. But he controlled his passion at the cost of his appetite. He could noteat, so enraged was he. And so he pushed the platter from him, and rose. 

He turned to Rabecque, and the sight of his face sent the lackey back apace or two in very fear. He waved his hand to the table. 

"Sup, Rabecque, " said he. "Then come to me above. "

And followed, as before, by the eyes of the stranger and his companions, Garnache strode out of the room, and mounting the stairs went to findsolace in talk with Valerie. But however impossible he might find it todigest the affront he had swallowed, no word of the matter did he utterto the girl, lest it should cause her fears to reawaken. 

CHAPTER VII. THE OPENING OF THE TRAP

Garnache spent a sleepless night at Grenoble, on guard throughout thegreater part of it since nothing short of that would appease the fearsof Valerie. Yet it passed without any bellicose manifestation on thepart of the Condillacs such as Valerie feared and such as Garnache wassatisfied would not--could not, indeed--take place. 

Betimes next morning he dispatched Rabecque to the Auberge de France forthe promised carriage, and broke his fast in the common-room what timehe awaited his man's return. The chamber was again occupied by thestranger of yesternight, who sat apart, however, and seemed no longerdisposed to interfere with the Parisian. Garnache wondered idly, mightthis be due to the circumstance that that same stranger was supportednow by one single companion, and was therefore less valorous than whenhe had been in the company of three. 

At another table were two gentlemen, sprung he knew not whence, quietin dress and orderly in manner, to whom he paid little heed until one ofthem a slender, swarthy, hawk-faced fellow--looking up suddenly, startedslightly at sight of the Parisian and addressed him instantly by name. Garnache paused in the act of rising from table, half-turned, andsharply scrutinized the swarthy gentleman, but failed to recognize him. He advanced towards him. 

"I have the honour to be known to you, monsieur?" he half-stated, half-inquired. 

"Parbleu, Monsieur de Garnache!" exclaimed the other with a readysmile, the more winning since it lighted up a face that at rest was verysombre. "Lives there a Parisian to whom you are not known? I have seenyou often at the Hotel de Bourgogne. "

Garnache acknowledged the courtesy by a slight inclination of the head. 

"And once, " continued the other, "I had the honour to be presented toyou by Monsieur le Duc himself. My name is Gaubert--Fabre Gaubert. " Andas he introduced himself he rose out of respect for Garnache, who hadremained standing. Garnache knew him not at all, yet never doubted thathis tale was true; the fellow had a very courtly, winning air; moreover, Garnache was beginning to feel lonely in the wilds of Dauphiny, so thatit rejoiced him to come into the company of one whom he might regard assomething of a fellow-creature. He held out his hand. 

"I am honoured in that you should have borne me in your memory, monsieur, " said he. He was about to add that he would be overjoyed ifit should happen that Monsieur Gaubert was travelling to Paris, since hemight give himself the pleasure of his company on that tedious journey;but he checked himself betimes. He had no reason to suspect thisgentleman; and yet, all things considered, he bethought him suddenlythat he would do well to observe the greatest circumspection. So with apleasant but meaningless civility touching Monsieur Gaubert's presencein those parts, Garnache passed on and gained the door. He paused in theporch, above which the rebus-like sign of the Sucking Calf creaked andgrated in each gust of the chill wind that was blowing from the Alps. The rain had ceased, but the sky was dark and heavy with great banks ofscudding clouds. In the street the men of his escort sat their horses, having mounted at his bidding in readiness for the journey. A word ortwo he exchanged with the sergeant, and then with a great rumble theclumsy carriage from the Auberge de France heralded its approach. Itrolled up the street, a vast machine of wood and leather, drawn by threehorses, and drew up at the door of the inn. Out sprang Rabecque, to beimmediately sent by his master to summon mademoiselle. They would setout upon the instant. 

Rabecque turned to obey; but in that same moment he was thrust rudelyaside by a man with the air of a servant, who issued from he inncarrying a valise; after him, following close upon his heels, with headheld high and eyes that looked straight before him and took no heed ofGarnache, came the foreigner of yesternight. 

Rabecque, his shoulders touching the timbers of the porch, against whichhe had been thrust, remained at gaze, following with resentful eye thefellow who had so rudely used him. Garnache, on the other side, watchedwith some wonder the advent of the ingenuous-looking stranger, but asyet with no suspicion of his intent. 

Not until the servant had thrown open the door of the coach anddeposited within the valise he carried, did Garnache stir. Not, indeed, until the foreigner's foot was on the step preparatory to mounting didGarnache speak. 

"Hi! monsieur, " he called to him, "what is your pleasure with mycarriage?"

The stranger turned, and stared at Garnache with a look of wonder thatartfully changed to one of disdainful recognition. 

"Ah?" said he, and his eyebrows went up. "The apologetic gentleman! Yousaid?"

Garnache approached him, followed a step not only by Rabecque, but alsoby Monsieur Gaubert, who had sauntered out a second earlier. Behindthem, in the porch, lounged now the foreigner's friend, and behind himagain was to be seen the great face and staring, somewhat startled eyesof the landlord. 

"I asked you, monsieur, " said Garnache, already at grips with that quicktemper of his, "what might be your pleasure with my coach?"

"With your coach?" echoed the other, his superciliousness waxing moreand more offensive. "Voyons! on! my apologetic friend, do all thingsin Grenoble belong to you?" He turned to the post-boy, who looked onstolidly. "You are from the Auberge de France, are you not?" quoth he. 

"I am, monsieur, " replied the man. "This carriage was ordered last nightby a gentleman lodging at the Veau qui Tete?"

"Perfectly, " replied the stranger, in a tone of finality. "It wasordered by me. " And he was about to turn away, when Garnache approachedhim by yet another step. 

"I will ask you to observe, monsieur, " said he and for all that his toneand words were civil, that they were forcedly so was obvious from theirquiver--"I will ask you to observe that the carriage was fetched by myown man there, who rode hither in it. "

The stranger looked him up and down with a curling lip. 

"It seems, sir, " said he, with a broad sneer, "that you are one ofthose impertinent fellows who will be for ever thrusting themselves upongentlemen with an eye to such profit as they can make. " He produceda purse and opened it. "Last night it was my supper you usurped. Isuffered that. Now you would do the same by my coach, and that Ishall not suffer. But there is for your pains, and to be quit of yourcompany. " And he tossed a silver coin at the Parisian. 

There was an exclamation of horror in the background, and Monsieur deGaubert thrust himself forward. 

"Sir, sir, " he exclaimed in an agitated voice, "you cannot know whomyou are addressing. This is Monsieur Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache, Mestre-de-Champ in the army of the King. "

"Of all those names the one I should opine might fit him best, but forhis ugliness, is that of Marie, " answered the foreigner, leering, andwith a contemptuous shrug he turned again to mount the carriage. 

At that all Garnache's self-control deserted him, and he did a thingdeplorable. In one of his blind accesses of fury, heedless of thefaithful and watchful Rabecque's arresting tug at his sleeve, he steppedforward, and brought a heavy hand down upon the supercilious gentleman'sshoulder. He took him in the instant in which, with one foot off theground and the other on the step of the carriage, the foreigner waseasily thrown' off his balance; he dragged him violently backward, spanhim round and dropped him floundering in the mire of the street-kennel. 

That done, there fell a pause--a hush that was ominous of thingsimpending. A little crowd of idlers that had gathered was quicklyaugmenting now, and from some there came a cry of "Shame!" at Garnache'sact of violence. 

This is no moment at which to pause to moralize. And yet, how often isit not so? How often does not public sympathy go out to the man who hasbeen assaulted without thought of the extent to which that man may haveprovoked and goaded his assailant. 

That cry of "Shame!" did no more than increase the anger that wasmastering Garnache. His mission in Grenoble was forgotten; mademoiselleabove-stairs was forgotten; the need for caution and the fear of theCondillacs were forgotten; everything was thrust from his mind but thesituation of the moment. 

Amid the hush that followed, the stranger picked himself slowly up, andsought to wipe the filth from his face and garments. His servant and hisfriend flew to his aid, but he waved them aside, and advanced towardsGarnache, eyes blazing, lips sneering. 

"Perhaps, " said he, in that soft, foreign tone of his, laden now withfierce mock-politeness, "perhaps monsieur proposes to apologize again. "

"Sir, you are mad, " interposed Gaubert. "You are a foreigner, Iperceive, else you would--"

But Garnache thrust him quietly aside. "You are very kind, MonsieurGaubert, " said he, and his manner now was one of frozen calm--a mannerthat betrayed none of the frenzy of seething passion underneath. "I think, sir, " said he to the stranger, adopting something of thatgentleman's sardonic manner, "that it will be a more peaceful worldwithout you. It is that consideration restrains me from apologizing. Andyet, if monsieur will express regret for having sought, and with suchlack of manners, to appropriate my carriage--"

"Enough!" broke in the other. "We are wasting time, and I have a longjourney before me. Courthon, " said he, addressing his friend, "will youbring me the length of this gentleman's sword? My name, sir, " he addedto Garnache, "is Sanguinetti. "

"Faith, " said Garnache, "it sorts well with your bloody spirit. "

"And will sort well, no doubt, with his condition presently, " put inhawk-faced Gaubert. "Monsieur de Garnache, if you have no friend at handto act for you, I shall esteem myself honoured. " And he bowed. 

"Why, thanks, sir. You are most opportunely met. You should be agentleman since you frequent the Hotel de Bourgogne. My thanks. "

Gaubert went aside to confer with Monsieur Courthon. Sanguinetti stoodapart, his manner haughty and impressive, his eye roaming scornfullythrough the ranks of what had by now become a crowd. Windows wereopening in the street, and heads appearing, and across the way Garnachemight have beheld the flabby face of Monsieur de Tressan among thespectators of that little scene. 

Rabecque drew near his master. 

"Have a care, monsieur, " he implored him. "If this should be a trap. "

Garnache started. The remark sobered him, and brought to his mind hisown suspicions of yesternight, which his present anger had for themoment lulled. Still, he conceived that he had gone too far to extricatehimself. But he could at least see to it that he was not drawn awayfrom the place that sheltered mademoiselle. And so he stepped forward, joining Courthon and Gaubert, to insist that the combat should takeplace in the inn--either in the common room or in the yard. But thelandlord, overhearing this, protested loudly that he could not consentto it. He had his house to think of. He swore that they should not fighton his premises, and implored them in the same breath not to attempt it. 

At that Garnache, now thoroughly on his guard! was for putting off theencounter. 

"Monsieur Courthon, " said he--and he felt a flush of shame mountingto his brow, and realized that it may need more courage to avoid anencounter than to engage in one--"there is something that in the heatof passion I forgot; something that renders it difficult for me to meetyour friend at present. "

Courthon looked at him as he might look at an impertinent lackey. 

"And what may that be?" he inquired, mightily contemptuous. There wasa snigger from some in the crowd that pressed about them, and evenMonsieur Gaubert looked askance. 

"Surely, sir, " he began, "if I did not know you for Monsieur deGarnache--"

But Garnache did not let him finish. 

"Give me air, " he cried, and cuffed out to right and left of him at thegrinning spectators, who fell back and grinned less broadly. "My reason, Monsieur de Courthon, " said he, "is that I do not belong to my self atpresent. I am in Grenoble on business of the State, as the emissary ofthe Queen-Regent, and so it would hardly become me to engage in privatequarrels. "

Courthon raised his brows. 

"You should have thought of that before you rolled Monsieur Sanguinettiin the mud, " he answered coldly. 

"I will tender him my apologies for that, " Garnache promised, swallowinghard, "and if he still insists upon a meeting he shall have it in, say, a month's time. "

"I cannot permit--" began Courthon, very fiercely. 

"You will be so good as to inform your friend of what I have said, "Garnache insisted, interrupting him. 

Cowed, Courthon shrugged and went apart to confer with his friend. 

"Ah!" came Sanguinetti's soft voice, yet loud enough to be heard byall present. "He shall have a caning then for his impertinence. " Andhe called loudly to the post-boy for his whip. But at that insultGarnache's brain seemed to take fire, and his cautious resolutions werereduced to ashes by the conflagration. He stepped forward, and, virulent of tone and terrific of mien, he announced that since MonsieurSanguinetti took that tone with him, he would cut his throat for him atonce and wherever they should please. 

At last it was arranged that they should proceed there and then to theChamps aux Capuchins, a half-mile away behind the Franciscan convent. 

Accordingly they set out, Sanguinetti and Courthon going first, andGarnache following with Gaubert; the rear being brought up by a regimentof rabble, idlers and citizens, that must have represented a veryconsiderable proportion of the population of Grenoble. This audienceheartened Garnache, to whom some measure of reflection had againreturned. Before such numbers it was unthinkable that thesegentlemen--assuming them to be acting on behalf of Condillac--shoulddare to attempt foul measures with him. For the rest he had taken theprecaution of leaving Rabecque at the Sucking Calf, and he had given thesergeant strict injunctions that he was not to allow any of his men toleave their posts during his absence, and that the troopers were tohold themselves entirely at the orders of Rabecque. Comparatively easytherefore in his mind, and but little exercised by any thought of thecoming encounter, Garnache walked briskly along. 

They came at last to the Champs aux Capuchins--a pleasant stretchof verdure covering perhaps half an acre and set about by a belt ofbeech-trees. 

The crowd disposed itself on the fringe of the sward, and the duellistswent forward, and set about the preparations. Principals and secondsthrew off cloak and doublet, and Sanguinetti, Courthon, and Gaubertremoved their heavy boots, whilst Garnache did no more than detach thespurs from his. 

Sanguinetti, observing this, drew the attention of the others to it, andan altercation arose. It was Gaubert who came to beg Garnache that heshould follow the example they had set him in that respect. But Garnacheshook his head. 

"The turf is sodden. "

"But it is precisely on that account, sir, " protested Gaubert veryearnestly. "In your boots you will be unable to stand firm; you will runthe risk of slipping every time that you break ground. "

"I venture to think, sir, that that is my affair, " said Garnachestiffly. 

"But it is not, " the other cried. "If you fight in your boots, we mustall do the same, and for myself--well, I have not come here to commitsuicide. "

"Look you, Monsieur Gaubert, " said Garnache quietly, "your opponent willbe Monsieur Courthon, and since he is in his stockinged feet, there isno reason why you yourself should not remain so too. As for me, I retainmy boots, and Monsieur Sanguinetti may have all the advantage that maygive him. Since I am content, in Heaven's name let the fight go forward. I am in haste. "

Gaubert bowed in submission; but Sanguinetti, who had overheard, turnedwith an oath. 

"By God, no!" said he. "I need no such advantage, sir. Courthon, be sogood as to help me on with my boots again. " And there was a fresh delaywhilst he resumed them. 

At last, however, the four men came together, and proceeded to themeasurement of swords. It was found that Sanguinetti's was two incheslonger than any of the other three. 

"It is the usual length in Italy, " said Sanguinetti with a shrug. 

"If monsieur had realized that he was no longer in Italy, we mightperhaps have been spared this very foolish business, " answered Garnachetestily. 

"But what are we to do?" cried the perplexed Gaubert. 

"Fight, " said Garnache impatiently. "Is there never to be an end tothese preliminaries?"

"But I cannot permit you to oppose yourself to a sword two inches longerthan your own, " cried Gaubert, almost in a temper. 

"Why not, if I am satisfied?" asked Garnache. "Mine is the longer reach;thus matters will stand equal. "

"Equal?" roared Gaubert. "Your longer reach is an advantage that youhad from God, his longer sword is one he had from an armourer. Is thatequality?"

"He may have my sword, and I'll take his, " cut in the Italian, alsoshowing impatience. "I too am in haste. "

"In haste to die, then, " snapped Gaubert. 

"Monsieur, this is not seemly, " Courthon reproved him. 

"You shall teach me manners when we engage, " snapped the hawk-facedgentleman. 

"Sirs, sirs, " Garnache implored them, "are we to waste the day in words?Monsieur Gaubert, there are several gentlemen yonder wearing swords; Imake no doubt that you will find one whose blade is of the same lengthas your own, sufficiently obliging to lend it to Monsieur Sanguinetti. "

"That is an office that my friend can do for me, " interposedSanguinetti, and thereupon Courthon departed, to return presently with aborrowed weapon of the proper length. 

At last it seemed that they might proceed with the business upon whichthey were come; but Garnache was wrong in so supposing. A discussion nowarose between Gaubert and Courthon as to the choice of spot. The turfwas drenched and slippery, and for all that they moved from place toplace testing the ground, their principals following, nowhere could theyfind the conditions sufficiently improved to decide upon engaging. To Garnache the utility of this was apparent from the first. If thesegentlemen had thought to avoid slippery ground, they should have electedto appoint the meeting elsewhere. But having chosen the Champs auxCapuchins, it was idle to expect that one stretch of turf would provefirmer than another. 

Wearied at last by this delay, he gave expression to his thoughts. 

"You are quite right, monsieur, " said Courthon. "But your second isover-fastidious. It would simplify matters so much if you would removeyour boots. "

"Look you, sirs, " said Garnache, taking a firm stand, "I will engage inmy boots and on this very spot or not at all. I have told you that I amin haste. As for the slipperiness of the ground, my opponent will runno greater risks than I. I am not the only impatient one. The spectatorsare beginning to jeer at us. We shall have every scullion in Grenoblepresently saying that we are afraid of one another. Besides which, sirs, I think I am taking cold. "

"I am quite of monsieur's mind, myself, " drawled Sanguinetti. 

"You hear, sir, " exclaimed Courthon, turning to Gaubert. "You can scarcepersist in finding objections now. "

"Why, since all are satisfied, so be it, " said Gaubert, with a shrug. "Isought to do the best for my principal. As it is, I wash my hands of allresponsibility, and by all means let us engage, sirs. "

They disposed themselves accordingly, Gaubert engaging Courthon, onGarnache's right hand, and Garnache himself falling on guard to receivethe attack of Sanguinetti. The jeers and murmurs that had been risingfrom the ever-growing crowd that swarmed about the outskirts of theplace fell silent as the clatter of meeting swords rang out at last. Andthen, scarce were they engaged when a voice arose, calling angrily:

"Hold, Sanguinetti! Wait!"

A big, broad-shouldered man, in a suit of homespun and a featherlesshat, thrust his way rudely trough the crowd and broke into the spacewithin the belt of trees. The combatants had fallen apart at thiscommanding cry, and the newcomer now dashed forward, flushed and out ofbreath as if with running. 

"Vertudieu! Sanguinetti, " he swore, and his manner was half-angry, half-bantering; "do you call this friendship?"

"My dear Francois" returned the foreigner, "you arrive mostinopportunely. "

"And is that all the greeting you have for me?"

Looking more closely, Garnache thought that he recognized in him one ofSanguinetti's companions of yesternight. 

"But do you not see that I am engaged?"

"Ay; and that is my grievance that you should be engaged upon such anaffair, and that I should have no share in it. It is to treat me likea lackey, and have the right to feel offended. Enfin! It seems I an notcome too late. "

Garnache cut in. He saw the drift of the fellow's intentions, and he wasnot minded to submit to fresh delays; already more than half an hour wassped since he had left the Sucking Calf. He put it plainly to them thatmore than enough delay had there been already and he begged the newcomerto stand aside and allow them to terminate the business on which theywere met. But Monsieur Francois--as Sanguinetti had called him--wouldnot hear of it. He proved, indeed, a very testy fellow, and he had, moreover, the support of the others, including even Monsieur Gaubert. 

"Let me implore you not to spoil sport, sir, " the latter beggedGarnache. "I have a friend at the inn who would never forgive me if Ipermitted him to miss such a morning's diversion as this gentleman iswilling to afford him. Suffer me to go for him. "

"Look you, sir, " answered Garnache sharply, "however you may view thismeeting, it is not with me an affair of jest or sport. I am in a quarrelthat has been forced upon me, and--"

"Surely not, sir, " Courthon interrupted sweetly. "You forget that yourolled Monsieur Sanguinetti in the mud. That is hardly to have a quarrelforced upon you. "

Garnache bit his lip to the blood in his vexation. 

"However the quarrel may have originated, " said Francois, with a greatlaugh, "I swear that it goes not forward until I am accommodated, too. "

"You had better accede, monsieur, " murmured Gaubert. "I shall not begone five minutes, and it will save time in the end. "

"Oh, very well, " cried poor Garnache in his despair. "Anything to savetime; anything! In God's name fetch your friend, and I hope you and heand every man here will get his fill of fighting for once. "

Gaubert departed on his errand, and there were fresh murmurs in the mobuntil the reason of his going was understood. Five minutes sped; tenminutes, and yet he returned not. Grouped together were Sanguinettiand his two friends, in easy, whispered talk. At a little distance fromthem, Garnache paced up and down to keep himself warm. He had thrown hiscloak over his shoulders again, and with sword tucked under arm and headthrust forward, he stamped backwards and forwards, the very pictureof ill-humour. Fifteen minutes passed; twelve o'clock boomed from theChurch of Saint Francois d'Assisi and still Monsieur Gaubert returnednot. Garnache stood still a moment, in angry thought. This must not goon. There must be an end, and at once. The tastes and inclinationsof brawlers were no concern of his. He had business of State--howeverunworthy--to dispatch. He turned, intending to demand of MonsieurSanguinetti that they should engage at once and be done, when suddenlya fellow roughly dressed, with dirty face and a shock head of fairhair, pushed his way through the throng and advanced towards MonsieurSanguinetti and his friends. Garnache checked in his movement to lookat the fellow, for he recognized in him the ostler of the Auberge deFrance: He spoke at that moment, and Garnache overheard the words heuttered. 

"Monsieur Sanguinetti, " said he, addressing that gentleman, "my mastersends to inquire if you shall want the carriage you ordered for to-day. It has been standing for an hour at the door of the Auberge de France, awaiting you, and if you don't want it--"

"Standing where?" asked Sanguinetti harshly. 

"At the door of the Auberge de France. "

"Peste, fool!" cried the foreigner, "why is it there, when I bade it besent to the Sucking Calf?"

"I don't know, sir. I know no more than Monsieur l'Hote told me. "

"Now, a plague on Monsieur l'Hote, " swore Sanguinetti, and in thatmoment his eye fell upon Garnache, standing there, attentive. At sightof the Parisian he seemed lost in confusion. He dropped his glance andappeared on the point of turning aside. Then to the ostler: "I shallwant the carriage, and I shall come for it anon. Carry that messageto your master. " And with that he turned and advanced to Garnache. Hiswhilom arrogance was all fallen from him; he wore instead an air ofextreme contrition. 

"Monsieur, what shall I say to you?" he asked in a voice that was rathersmall. "It seems there has been an error. I am deeply grieved, believeme--"

"Say no more, I beg, " cried Garnache, immensely relieved that at lastthere should be a conclusion to an affair which had threatened to beinterminable. "Let me but express my regrets for the treatment youreceived at my hands. "

"I accept your expressions, and I admire their generosity, " returned theother as courteous now as subservient, indeed, in his courtesy--ashe had been erstwhile fierce and intractable. "As for the treatment Ireceived, I confess that my mistake and my opinionativeness deserved itme. I deplore to deprive these gentlemen of the entertainment to whichthey were looking forward, but unless you should prove of an excessiveamiability I am afraid they must suffer with me the consequences of myerror. "

Garnache assured him very briefly, and none too politely that he did notintend to prove of any excessive amiability. He spoke whilst strugglinginto his doublet. He felt that he could cheerfully have caned the fellowfor the inconvenience he had caused him, and yet he realized that he hadother more pressing matters to attend to. He sheathed his sword, took uphis cloak and hat, made those gentlemen the compliments that became theoccasion, in terms a trifle more brief, perhaps, than were usual, and, still wondering why Monsieur de Gaubert had not yet returned, he stalkedbriskly away. Followed by the booings of the disappointed crowd, he setout for the Sucking Calf at a sharp pace, taking the shorter way behindthe Church and across the graveyard of Saint Francois. 

CHAPTER VIII. THE CLOSING OF THE TRAP

Upon leaving the Champs aux Capuchins, hawk-faced Monsieur Gaubert hadrun every foot of the way to the Sucking Calf, and he had arrived therewithin some five minutes, out of breath and wearing every appearance ofdistress--of a distress rather greater than his haste to find his friendshould warrant. 

At the door of the inn he found the carriage still waiting; thepost-boy, however, was in the porch, leaning in talk with one of thedrawers. The troopers sat their horses in stolid patience, keepingguard, and awaiting, as they had been bidden, the return of Monsieur deGarnache. Rabecque, very watchful, lounged in the doorway, betraying inhis air none of the anxiety and impatience with which he looked for hismaster. 

At sight of Monsieur Gaubert, running so breathlessly, he startedforward, wondering and uneasy. Across the street, from the PalaisSeneschal, came at that same moment Monsieur de Tressan with rollinggait. He reached the door of the inn together with Monsieur Gaubert. 

Full of evil forebodings, Rabecque hailed the runner. 

"What has happened?" he cried. "Where is Monsieur de Garnache?"

Gaubert came to a staggering halt; he groaned and wrung his hands. 

"Killed!" he panted, rocking himself in a passion of distress. "He hasbeen butchered! Oh! it was horrible!"

Rabecque gripped him by the shoulder, and steadied him with a hand thathurt. "What do you say?" he gasped, his face white to the lips. 

Tressan halted, too, and turned upon Gaubert, a look of incredulity inhis fat countenance. "Who has been killed?" he asked. "Not Monsieur deGarnache?"

"Helas! yes, " groaned the other. "It was a snare, a guet-apens to whichthey led us. Four of them set upon us in the Champs aux Capuchins. Aslong as he lived, I stood beside him. But seeing him fallen, I come forhelp. "

"My God!" sobbed Rabecque, and loosed his grasp of Monsieur Gaubert'sshoulder. 

"Who did it?" inquired Tressan, and his voice rumbled fiercely. 

"I know not who they were. The man who picked the quarrel with Monsieurde Garnache called himself Sanguinetti. There is a riot down there atpresent. There was a crowd to witness the combat, and they have fallento fighting among themselves. Would to Heaven they had stirred in timeto save that poor gentleman from being murdered. "

"A riot, did you say?" cried Tressan, the official seeming to awaken inhim. 

"Aye, " answered the other indifferently; "they are cutting one another'sthroats. "

"But... But... Are you sure that he is dead, monsieur?" inquiredRabecque; and his tone was one that implored contradiction. 

Gaubert looked and paused, seeming to give the matter a second'sthought. "I saw him fall, " said he. "It may be that he was no more thanwounded. "

"And you left him there?" roared the servant. "You left him there?"

Gaubert shrugged his shoulders. "What could I do against four? Besides, the crowd was interfering already, and it seemed best to me to come forhelp. These soldiers, now--"

"Aye, " cut in Tressan, and he turned about and called the sergeant. "This becomes my affair. " And he announced his quality to MonsieurGaubert. "I am the Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny. "

"I am fortunate in finding you, " returned Gaubert, and bowed. "I couldplace the matter in no better hand. "

But Tressan, without heeding him, was already ordering the sergeantto ride hard with his troopers for the Champs aux Capuchins. Rabecque, however, thrust himself suddenly forward. 

"Not so, Monsieur le Seneschal, " he interposed in fresh alarm, andmindful of his charge. "These men are here to guard Mademoiselle de LaVauvraye. Let them remain. I will go to Monsieur de Garnache. "

The Seneschal stared at him with contemptuously pouting underlip. "Youwill go?" said he. "And what can you do alone? Who are you?" he asked. 

"I am Monsieur de Garnache's servant. "

"A lackey? Ah!" And Tressan turned aside and resumed his orders asif Rabecque did not exist or had never spoken. "To the Champs auxCapuchins!" said he. "At the gallop, Pommier! I will send others afteryou. "

The sergeant rose in his stirrups and growled an order. The trooperswheeled about; another order, and they were off, their cantering hoofsthundering down the narrow street. 

Rabecque clutched at the Lord Seneschal's arm. 

"Stop them, monsieur!" he almost screamed in his excitement. "Stop them!There is some snare, some trick in this. "

"Stop them?" quoth the Seneschal. "Are you mad?" He shook off Rabecque'sdetaining hand, and left him, to cross the street again with ponderousand sluggish haste, no doubt to carry out his purpose of sending moretroopers to the scene of the disturbance. 

Rabecque swore angrily and bitterly, and his vexation had two entirelyseparate sources. On the one hand his anxiety and affection for hismaster urged him to run at once to his assistance, whilst Tressan'sremoval of the troopers rendered it impossible for him to leaveMademoiselle de La Vauvraye unguarded--though what he should do withher if Garnache came not back at all, he did not at this stage pauseto consider. On the other hand, an instinctive and growing suspicion ofthis Monsieur Gaubert--who was now entering the inn--inspired him withthe opinion that the fat Seneschal had been duped by a wild tale tosend the troopers from the spot where they might presently become verynecessary. 

Full of fears, anxiety, and mistrust, it was a very dispirited Rabecquethat now slowly followed Monsieur Gaubert into the inn. But as he sethis foot across the threshold of the common-room, a sight met his eyesthat brought him to a momentary standstill, and turned to certainty allhis rising suspicions. He found it tenanted by a half-dozen fellows ofvery rude aspect, all armed and bearing an odd resemblance in air andaccoutrements to the braves he had seen at Condillac the day before. As to how they came there, he could only surmise that they had enteredthrough the stable-yard, as otherwise he must have observed theirapproach. They were grouped now at the other end of the long, lowchamber, by the door leading to the interior of the inn. A few pacesdistant the landlord watched them with uneasy eyes. 

But what dismayed Garnache's servant most of all was to see the man whocalled himself Gaubert standing in talk with a slender, handsome youth, magnificently arrayed, in whom he recognized Marius de Condillac. 

Rabecque checked in his advance, and caught in that moment from Mariusthe words: "Let her be told that it is Monsieur de Garnache wishes herto descend. "

At that Rabecque stepped towards them, very purposeful of mien. Gaubertturned at his approach, and smiled. Marius looked up quickly; thenmade a sign to the men. Instantly two of them went out by the door theyguarded, and ere it swung back again Rabecque saw that they weremaking for the stairs. The remaining four ranged themselves shoulderto shoulder across the doorway, plainly with intent to bar the way. Gaubert, followed immediately by Marius, stepped aside and approachedthe landlord with arms akimbo and a truculent smile on his pale hawkface. What he and Marius said, Rabecque could not make out, but hedistinctly heard the landlord's answer delivered with a respectful bowto Marius:

"Bien, Monsieur de Condillac. I would not interfere in yourconcerns--not for the world. I will be blind and deaf. "

Marius acknowledged the servile protestation by a sneer, and Rabecque, stirring at last, went forward boldly towards the doorway and its ugly, human barrier. 

"By your leave, sirs, " said he--and he made to thrust one of them aside. 

"You cannot pass this way, sir, " he was answered, respectfully butfirmly. 

Rabecque stood still, clenching and unclenching his hands and quiveringwith anger. It was in that moment that he most fervently cursed Tressanand his stupid meddling. Had the troopers still been there, they couldhave made short work of these tatter-demalions. As it was, and withMonsieur de Garnache dead, or at least absent, everything seemed at anend. He might have contended that, his master being slain, it was nogreat matter what he did, for in the end the Condillacs must surely havetheir way with Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. But he never paused to thinkof that just then. His sense of trust was strong; his duty to his masterplain. He stepped back, and drew his sword. 

"Let me pass!" he roared. But at the same instant there came the softslither of another weapon drawn, and Rabecque was forced to turn to meetthe onslaught of Monsieur Gaubert. 

"You dirty traitor, " cried the angry lackey, and that was all they lefthim breath to say. Strong arms gripped him from behind. The sword waswrenched from his hand. He was flung down heavily, and pinned prone in acorner by one of those bullies who knelt on his spine. And then the dooropened again, and poor Rabecque groaned in impotent anguish to beholdMademoiselle de La Vauvraye pause white-faced and wide-eyed on, thethreshold at sight of Monsieur de Condillac bowing low before her. 

She stood there a moment between the two ruffians who had been sent tofetch her, and her eyes travelling round that room discovered Rabecquein his undignified and half; strangled condition. 

"Where... Where is Monsieur de Garnache?" she faltered. 

"He is where all those who cross the will of Condillac must sooner orlater find themselves, " said Marius airily. "He is... Disposed of. "

"Do you mean that he is dead?" she cried. 

"I think it very probable by now, " he smiled. "So you see, mademoiselle, since the guardian the Queen appointed you has... Deserted you, youwould do well to return to my mother's roof. Let me assure you that weshall very gladly welcome your return. We blame none but Garnache foryour departure, and he has paid for the brutality of his abduction ofyou. "

She turned in despair from that mocking gentleman, and attempted to makeappeal to the landlord, as though he could help her who could not helphimself. 

"Monsieur l'Hote--" she began, but Marius cut in sharply. 

"Take her out that way, " he said, and pointed back down the passage bythe stairs. "To the coach. Make haste. "

She sought to resist them now; but they dragged her back, and therewas a rush of the others following through the doorway, the rear beingbrought up by Gaubert. 

"Follow presently, " was his parting command to the man who still kneltupon Rabecque, and with that he vanished too. 

Their steps died away in the passage; a door banged in the distance. There followed a silence, disturbed only by the sound of Rabecque'slaboured breathing; then came a stir outside the door of the inn; someone shouted an order. There was a movement of hoofs, a creak and crunchof wheels, and presently the rumble of a heavy carriage being drivenrapidly away. But too well did Rabecque surmise what had taken place. 

The ruffian released him at last, and, leaping to his feet, was gonebefore Rabecque could rise. Once up, however, the lackey darted to thedoor. In the distance he saw his late assailant running hard; thecoach had disappeared. He turned, and his smouldering eye fell upon thelandlord. 

"O pig!" he apostrophized him, snarling at him to vent some of hispent-up rage. "O cowardly pig. "

"What would you?" expostulated the frightened taverner. "They had cut mythroat if I resisted them. "

Rabecque poured abuse upon him, until for very lack of words he wasforced to cease, then, with a final bark of contempt, he went to recoverhis sword, which had been flung into a corner of the room. He wasstooping in the act, when a quick step rang behind him on the threshold, an angry voice harsh and metallic pronounced his name:

"Rebecque!"

The sword clattered from Rabecque's hand suddenly gonenerveless--nerveless with sheer joy, all else forgotten in theperception that there, safe and sound, stood his beloved master. 

"Monsieur!" he cried, and the tears welled up to the rough servant'seyes. "Monsieur!" he cried again, and then with the tears streamingdown his cheeks, sallow and wrinkled as parchment, "Oh, thank God!" heblubbered. "Thank God!"

"For what?" asked Garnache, coming forward, a scowl like a thunder-cloudupon his brow. "Where is the coach, where the troopers? Where ismademoiselle? Answer me!"

He caught Rabecque's wrist in a grip that threatened to snap it. Hisface was livid, his eyes aflame. 

"They--they--" stammered Rabecque. He had not the courage to tell thething that had happened. He feared Garnache would strike him dead. 

And then out of his terror he gathered an odd daring. He spoke toGarnache as never he had dreamt to speak to him, and it may well be thatby his tone and by what he said he saved his life just then. 

"You fool, " he cried to him. "I told you to be on your guard. I warnedyou to go warily. But you would not heed me. You know better thanRabecque. You would have your way. You must go a-brawling. And theyduped you, they fooled you to the very top of their bent, monsieur. "

Garnache dropped the servant's hand and stood back a pace. Thatcounter-blast of passion and that plain speaking from a quarter sounexpected served, in part at least, to sober him. He understood thething that had happened, the thing that already he suspected must havehappened; but he understood too that he alone was to blame for it--heand his cursed temper. 

"Who--who fooled me?" he stammered. 

"Gaubert--the fellow that calls himself Gaubert. He and his friends. They fooled you away. Then Gaubert returned with a tale that youhad been killed and that there was a disturbance in the Champs auxCapuchins. Monsieur de Tressan was here, as ill-luck would have it, and Gaubert implored him to send soldiers thither to quell the riot. He dispatched the escort. I sought in vain to stay them. He would notlisten to me. The troopers went, and then Monsieur Gaubert enteredthe inn, to join Monsieur de Condillac and six of his braves who werewaiting there. They overpowered me, and carried mademoiselle off in thecoach. I did what I could, but--"

"How long have they been gone?" Garnache interrupted him to inquire. 

"But few minutes before you came. "

"It would be, then, the coach that passed me near the Porte de Savoie. We must go after them, Rabecque. I made a short cut across the graveyardof Saint Francis, or I must have met the escort. Oh, perdition!" hecried, smiting his clenched right hand into his open left. "To have somuch good work undone by a moment's unguardedness. " Then abruptly heturned on his heels. "I am going to Monsieur de Tressan, " said he overhis shoulder, and went out. 

As he reached the threshold of the porch, the escort rode up the street, returned at last. At sight of him the sergeant broke into a cry ofsurprise. 

"At least you are safe, monsieur, " he said. "We had heard that you weredead, and I feared it must be so, for all that the rest of the storythat was told us was clearly part of a very foolish jest. "

"Jest? It was no jest, Vertudieu!" said Garnache grimly. "You had bestreturn to the Palais Seneschal. I have no further need of an escort, " headded bitterly. "I shall require a larger force. "

And he stepped out into the rain, which had begun again a few minutesearlier, and was now falling in a steady downpour. 

CHAPTER IX. THE SENESCHAL'S ADVICE

Straight across the Palais Seneschal went Garnache. And sorely thoughhis temper might already have been tried that day, tempestuously thoughit had been vented, there were fresh trials in store for him, freshstorms for Tressan. 

"May I ask, Monsieur le Seneschal, " he demanded arrogantly, "to what endit was that you permitted yourself to order from its post the escort youhad placed under my command?"

"To what end?" returned the Seneschal, between sorrow and indignation. "Why, to the end that it might succour you if still in time. I had heardthat if not dead already, you were in danger of your life. "

The answer was one that disarmed Garnache, in spite of his mistrustof Tressan, and followed as it now was by the Seneschal's profuseexpressions of joy at seeing Garnache safe and well, it left himclearly unable to pursue the subject of his grievance in this particularconnection. Instead, he passed on to entertain Tressan with the recitalof the thing that had been done; and in reciting it his anger revivedagain, nor did the outward signs of sympathetic perturbation whichthe Seneschal thought it judicious to display do aught to mollify hisfeelings. 

"And now, monsieur, " he concluded, "there remains but one course tobe pursued--to return in force, and compel them at the sword-point tosurrender me mademoiselle. That accomplished, I shall arrest the Dowagerand her son and every jackanapes within that castle. Her men can liein Grenoble gaol to be dealt with by yourself for supporting her in anattempt to resist the Queen's authority. Madame and her son shall gowith me to Paris to answer there for their offence. "

The Seneschal looked grave. He thoughtfully combed his beard with hisforefinger, and his little eyes peered a shade fearfully at Garnachethrough his horn-rimmed spectacles--Garnache had found him at hisnever-failing pretence of work. 

"Why, yes, " he agreed, speaking slowly, "that way lies your duty. "

"I rejoice, monsieur, to hear you say so. For I shall need your aid. "

"My aid?" The Seneschal's face assumed a startled look. 

"I shall require of you the necessary force to reduce that garrison. "

The Seneschal blew out his cheeks almost to bursting point, then waggedhis head and smiled wistfully. 

"And where, " he asked, "am I to find such a force?"

"You have upwards of ten score men in quarters at Grenoble. "

"If I had those men--which I have not--what, think you, could they doagainst a fortress such as Condillac? Monsieur deludes himself. If theyresist, you'll need ten times that number to bring them to their senses. They are well victualled; they have an excellent water-supply. Myfriend, they would just draw up the bridge, and laugh at you and yoursoldiers from the ramparts. "

Garnache looked at him from under lowering brows. But for all hismistrust of the man--a mistrust most excellently founded--he was forcedto confess that there was wisdom in what Tressan said. 

"I'll sit down and besiege them if need be, " he announced. 

Again the Seneschal wagged his head. "You would have to be prepared tospend your winter there in that case, and it can be cold in the valleyof Isere. Their garrison is small--some twenty men at most; but it issufficient for their defence, and not too many mouths to feed. No, no, monsieur, if you would win your way by force you must count upon morethan ten score men. "

And now a flash of inspiration helped Tressan. It was his aim, as weknow, to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Break with Madamede Condillac his foolish hopeful heart would not permit him. Break withthis man, who personified authority and the King, he dared not. Hehad sought--and it had given him much to do--to steer a middle course, serving the Dowager and appearing not to withstand the Parisian. Now italmost seemed to him as if he were come to an impasse beyond which hecould no longer pursue that course, but must halt and declare his side. But the notion that now occurred to him helped him to win throughthis difficulty. For Madame de Condillac's schemes he cared not a jot;whether they came safe to harbour or suffered shipwreck on the waywas all one to him; whether Valerie de La Vauvraye married Marius deCondillac or the meanest cobbler in Grenoble was, similarly, a matterthat never disturbed his mind. He would not even be concerned if he, himself, were to help the Dowager's schemes to frustration, so long asshe were to remain in ignorance of his defection, so long as outwardlyhe were to appear faithful to her interests. 

"Monsieur, " said he gravely, "the only course that promises you successis to return to Paris, and, raising sufficient men, with guns and othermodern siege appliances such as we possess not here, come back andbatter down the walls of Condillac. "

There the Seneschal spoke good sense. Garnache realized it, so muchso that he almost began to doubt whether he had not done the man aninjustice in believing him allied to the other party. But, however fullyhe might perceive the wisdom of the advice, such a step was one thatmust wound his pride, must be an acknowledgment that his own resources, upon which the Queen had relied when she sent him single-handed to dealwith this situation, had proved insufficient. 

He took a turn in the apartment without answering, tugging at hismustachios and pondering the situation what time the Seneschalfurtively watched him in the candle-light. At last he came abruptly toa standstill by the Seneschal's writing-table, immediately oppositeTressan. His hand fell to his side, his eyes took on a look ofdetermination. 

"As a last resource your good advice may guide me, Monsieur leSeneschal, " said he. "But first I'll see what can be done with such menas you have here. "

"But I have no men, " answered Tressan, dismayed to see the failure ofhis effort. 

Garnache stared at him in an unbelief that was fast growing tosuspicion. "No men?" he echoed dully. "No men?"

"I might muster a score--no more than that. "

"But, monsieur, it is within my knowledge that you have at least twohundred. I saw at least some fifty drawn up in the courtyard below hereyesterday morning. "

"I had them, monsieur, " the Seneschal made haste to cry, his handsupheld, his body leaning forward over his table. "I had them. But, unfortunately, certain disturbances in the neighbourhood of Montelimarhave forced me to part with them. They were on the point of setting outwhen you saw them. "

Garnache looked at him a moment without speaking. Then, sharply:

"They must be recalled, monsieur, " said he. 

And now the Seneschal took refuge in a fine pretence of indignation. 

"Recalled?" he cried, and besides indignation there was some horrorin his voice. "Recalled? And for what? That they may assist you inobtaining charge of a wretched girl who is so headstrong as to wish tomarry other than her guardians have determined. A pretty affair that, asGod's my life! And for the adjustment of such a family dispute as this, a whole province is to go to ruin, a conflagration of rebellion is tospread unquenched? On my soul, sir, I begin to think that this missionof yours has served to turn your head. You begin to see it out of allproportion to its size. "

"Monsieur, it may have turned my head, or it may not; but I shall not beamazed if in the end it be the means of losing you yours. Tell me now:What is the disturbance you speak of in Montelimar?" That was a questionall Tressan's ingenuity could not answer. 

"What affair is it of yours?" he demanded. "Are you Seneschal ofDauphiny, or am I? If I tell you that there is a disturbance, let thatsuffice. In quelling it I do but attend to my own business. Do youattend to yours--which seems to be that of meddling in women's matters. "

This was too much. There was such odious truth in it that the iron sankdeep into Garnache's soul. The very reflection that such a businessshould indeed be his, was of itself enough to put him in a rage, withouthaving it cast in his teeth as Tressan had none too delicately done. 

He stormed and raged; he waved his arms and thumped the table, andtalked of cutting men to ribbons--among which men no doubt he counted myLord the Seneschal of Dauphiny. But from the storm of fierce invective, of threats and promises with which he filled the air, the Seneschalgathered with satisfaction the one clear statement that he would takehis advice. 

"I'll do as you say, " Garnache had ended. "I'll get me back to Paris asfast as horse can carry me. When I return woe betide Condillac! And Ishall send my emissaries into the district of Montelimar to inquire intothese disturbances you tell of. Woe betide you if they find the countryquiet. You shall pay a heavy price for having dispatched your soldiersthither to the end that they might not be here to further the Queen'sbusiness. "

With that he caught up his rain-sodden hat, flung it on his head, andstalked out of the room, and, so, out of the Palace. 

He left Grenoble next morning, and it was a very tame and crestfallenGarnache who quitted the Auberge du Veau qui Tete and rode out of thetown to take the road to Paris. How they would laugh at him at theLuxembourg! Not even an affair of this kind was he fit to carrythrough; not even as a meddler in women's matters as Tressan hadcalled him--could he achieve success. Rabecque, reflecting his master'smood--as becomes a good lackey--rode silent and gloomy a pace or two inthe rear. 

By noon they had reached Voiron, and here, at a quiet hostelry, theydescended to pause awhile for rest and refreshment. It was a chill, blustering day, and although the rain held off, the heavens were blackwith the promise of more to come. There was a fire burning in thegeneral-room of the hostelry, and Garnache went to warm him at itscheerful blaze. Moodily he stood there, one hand on the high mantelshelf, one foot upon an andiron, his eyes upon the flames. 

He was disconsolately considering his position; considering how utterly, how irrevocably he had failed; pondering the gibes he would have tostomach on his return to Paris, the ridicule it would incumb him to livedown. It had been a fine thing to breathe fire and blood and vengeanceto Tressan yesterday, to tell him of the great deeds he would perform onhis return. It was odds he never would return. They would send anotherin his place, if indeed they sent at all. For, after all, before hecould reach Paris and the force required be in Dauphiny, a fortnightmust elapse, let them travel never so quickly. By that time they must besingularly sluggish at Condillac if they did not so contrive that noaid that came should come in time for mademoiselle, now that they werewarned that the Queen was stirring in the matter. 

Oh! he had blundered it all most cursedly. Had he but kept his temperyesterday at Grenoble; had he but had the wit to thwart their plans, bypreserving an unruffled front to insult, he might have won through andcarried mademoiselle out of their hands. As it was--! he let his armsfall to his sides in his miserable despair. 

"Your wine, monsieur, " said Rabecque at his elbow. He turned, and tookthe cup of mulled drink from his servant. The beverage warmed him inbody; but it would need a butt of it to thaw the misery from his soul. 

"Rabecque, " he said with a pathetic grimness, "I think I am the mostcursed blunderer that ever was entrusted with an errand. "

The thing so obsessed his mind that he must speak of it, if it be onlyto his lackey. Rabecque's sharp face assumed a chastened look. He sighedmost dutifully. He sought for words of consolation. At last:

"At least, monsieur has made them fear him up there at Condillac, " saidhe. 

"Fear me?" laughed Garnache. "Pish! Deride me, you would say. "

"Fear you, I repeat, monsieur. Else why are they at such pains tostrengthen the garrison?"

"Eh?" he questioned. But his tone was not greatly interested. "Are theydoing that? Are they strengthening it? How know you?"

"I had it from the ostler at the Veau qui Tete that a certain CaptainFortunio--an Italian soldier of fortune who commands the men atCondillac--was at the Auberge de France last night, offering wine towhomsoever would drink with him, and paying for it out of Madame laMarquise's purse. To such as accepted his hospitality he talked of theglory of a military career, particularly a free-lance's; and to thosewho showed interest in what he said he offered a pike in his company. "

"Enrolled he many, did you learn?"

"Not one, monsieur, the ostler told me; and it seems he spent theevening watching him weave his spider's web. But the flies wereover-wary. They knew whence he came; they knew the business for which hedesired to enrol them--for a rumour had gone round that Condillac was inrebellion against the Queen's commands--and there were none so desperateat the Auberge de France as to risk their necks by enlisting, no matterwhat the wage he offered. "

Garnache shrugged his shoulders. "No matter, " said he. "Get me anothercup of wine. " But as Rabecque turned away to obey him there came asudden gleam into the eye of Monsieur de Garnache which lightened thedepression of his countenance. 

CHAPTER X. THE RECRUIT

In the great hall of the Chateau de Condillac sat the Dowager, her son, and the Lord Seneschal, in conference. 

It was early in the afternoon of the last Thursday in October, exactly aweek since Monsieur de Garnache all but broken-hearted at the failure ofhis mission--had departed from Grenoble. They had dined, and the tablewas still strewn with vessels and the fragments of their meal, forthe cloth had not yet been raised. But the three of them had left theboard--the Seneschal with all that reluctance with which he was wont topart company with the table, no matter how perturbed in spirit hemight to--and they had come to group themselves about the great openfireplace. 

A shaft of pale October sunshine entering through the gules of anescutcheon on the mullioned windows struck a scarlet light into silveraid glass upon the forsaken board. 

Madame was speaking. She was repeating words that she had uttered atleast twenty times a day during the past week. 

"It was a madness to let that fellow go. Had we but put him and hisservant out of the way, we should be able now to sleep tranquil in ourbeds. I know their ways at Court. They might have marvelled a little atfirst that he should tarry so long upon his errand, that he should sendthem no word of its progress; but presently, seeing him no more, hewould little by little have been forgotten, and with him the affair inwhich the Queen has been so cursedly ready to meddle. 

"As it is, the fellow will go back hot with the outrage put upon him;there will be some fine talk of it in Paris; it will be spoken of astreason, as defiance of the King's Majesty, as rebellion. The Parliamentmay be moved to make outlaws of us, and the end of it all--who shallforesee?"

"It is a long distance from Condillac to Paris, madame, " said her son, with a shrug. 

"And you will find them none so ready to send soldiers all this way, Marquise, " the Seneschal comforted her. 

"Bah! You make too sure of your security. You make too sure of what theywill do, what leave undone. Time will show, my friends; and, mor-dieu! Iam much at fault if you come not both to echo my regret that we did notdispose of Monsieur de Garnache and his lackey when we had them in ourpower. "

Her eye fell with sinister promise upon Tressan, who shivered slightlyand spread his hands to the blaze, as though his shiver had been ofcold. But Marius did not so readily grow afraid. 

"Madame, " he said, "at the worst we can shut our gates and flingdefiance at them. We are well-manned, and Fortunio is seeking freshrecruits. "

"Seeking them, yes, " she sneered. "For a week has the fellow beenspending money like water, addling the brains of half Grenoble with thebest wine at the Auberge de France, yet not a single recruit has comein, so far. "

Marius laughed. "Your pessimism leads you into rash conclusions, " hecried. "You are wrong. One recruit has come in. "

"One!" she echoed. "A thousand devils! A brave number that! A finereturn for the river of wine with which we have washed the stomachs ofGrenoble. "

"Still, it is a beginning, " ventured the Seneschal. 

"Aye, and, no doubt, an ending, " she flashed back at him. "And whatmanner of fool may this one be, whose fortunes were so desperate that hecould throw them in with ours?"

"He is an Italian--a Piedmontese who has tramped across Savoy and was onhis way to Paris to make his fortune, when Fortunio caught him and madeit clear to him that his fortune was made for him at Condillac. He isa lusty, stalwart fellow, speaking no word of French, who was drawn toFortunio by discovering in him a fellow-countryman. "

Mockery flashed from the Dowager's beautiful eyes. 

"In that you have the reason of his enrolling himself. He knew no wordof French, poor devil, so could not learn how rash his venture was. Could we find more such men as this one it might be well. But whereshall we find them? Pish! my dear Marius, matters are little mended, nor ever will be, for the mistake we made in allowing Garnache to go hisways. "

"Madame;" again ventured Tressan, "I think that you want forhopefulness. "

"At least, I do not want for courage, Monsieur le Comte, " she answeredhim; "and I promise you that while I live--to handle a sword if needbe--no Paris men shall set foot in Condillac. "

"Aye, " grumbled Marius, "you can contemplate that, and it is all youdo contemplate. You will not see, madame that our position is far fromdesperate; that, after all, there may be no need to resist the King. Itis three months since we had news of Florimond. Much may happen in threemonths when a man is warring. It may well be that he is dead. "

"I wish I knew he was--and damned, " she snapped, with a tightening ofher scarlet lips. 

"Yes, " agreed Marius, with a sigh, "that were an end to all ourtroubles. "

"I'm none so sure. There is still mademoiselle, with her new-formedfriends in Paris--may a pestilence blight them all! There are still thelands of La Vauvraye to lose. The only true end to our troubles as theystand at present lies in your marrying this headstrong baggage. "

"That the step should be rendered impossible, you can but blameyourself, " Marius reminded her. 

"How so?" she cried, turning sharply upon him. 

"Had you kept friends with the Church, had you paid tithes and savedus from this cursed Interdict, we should have no difficulty in gettinghither a priest, and settling the matter out of hand, be Valerie willingor not. "

She looked at him, scorn kindling in her glance. Then she swung round toappeal to Tressan. 

"You hear him, Count, " said she. "There is a lover for you! He would wedhis mistress whether she love him or not--and he has sworn to me that heloves the girl. "

"How else should the thing be done since she opposes it?" asked Marius, sulkily. 

"How else? Do you ask me how else? God! Were I a man, and had I yourshape and face, there is no woman in the world should withstand me ifI set my heart on her. It is address you lack. You are clumsy as a loutwhere a woman is concerned. Were I in your place, I had taken her bystorm three months ago, when first she came to us. I had carried her outof Condillac, out of France, over the border into Savoy, where there areno Interdicts to plague you, and there I would have married her. "

Marius frowned darkly, but before he could speak, Tressan wasinsinuating a compliment to the Marquise. 

"True, Marius, " he said, with pursed lips. "Nature has been very good toyou in that she has made you the very counterpart of your lady mother. You are as comely a gentleman as is to be found in France--or out ofit. "

"Pish!" snapped Marius, too angered by the reflection cast upon hisaddress, to be flattered by their praises of his beauty. "It is an easything to talk; an easy thing to set up arguments when we consider butthe half of a question. You forget, madame, that Valerie is betrothed toFlorimond and that she clings faithfully to her betrothal. "

"Vertudieu!" swore the Marquise, "and what is this betrothal, what thisfaithfulness? She has not seen her betrothed for three years. She wasa child at the time of their fiancailles. Think you her faithfulness tohim is the constancy of a woman to her lover? Go your ways, you foolishboy. It is but the constancy to a word, to the wishes of her father. Think you constancy that has no other base than that would stand betweenher and any man who--as you might do, had you the address--could makeher love him?"

"I do say so, " answered Marius firmly. 

She smiled the pitying smile of one equipped with superior knowledgewhen confronted with an obstinate, uninformed mind. 

"There is a droll arrogance about you, Marius, " she told him, quietly. "You, a fledgling, would teach me, a woman, the ways of a woman's heart!It is a thing you may live to regret. "

"As how?" he asked. 

"Once already has mademoiselle contrived to corrupt one of our men, and send him to Paris with a letter. Out of that has sprung our presenttrouble. Another time she may do better. When she shall have bribedanother to assist her to escape; when she, herself, shall have madeoff to the shelter of the Queen-mother, perhaps you will regret that mycounsel should have fallen upon barren ground. "

"It is to prevent any such attempt that we have placed her under guard, "said he. "You are forgetting that. "

"Forgetting it? Not I. But what assurance have you that she will notbribe her guard?"

Marius laughed, rose, and pushed back his chair. 

"Madame, " said he, "you are back at your contemplation of the worst sideof this affair; you are persisting in considering only how we may bethwarted. But set your mind at rest. Gilles is her sentinel. Every nighthe sleeps in her anteroom. He is Fortunio's most trusted man. She willnot corrupt him. "

The Dowager smiled pensively, her eyes upon the fire. Suddenly sheraised them to his face. "Berthaud was none the less trusted. Yet, withno more than a promise of reward at some future time should she succeedin escaping from us, did she bribe him to carry her letter to the Queen. What happened to Berthaud that may not happen to Gilles?"

"You might change her sentry nightly, " put in the Seneschal. 

"Yes, if we knew whom we could trust; who would be above corruption. As it is"--she shrugged her shoulders "that would be but to afford heropportunities to bribe them one by one until they were all ready to actin concert. "

"Why need she any sentinel at all?" asked Tressan, with some show ofsense. 

"To ward off possible traitors, " she told him, and Marius smiled andwagged his head. 

"Madame is never done foreseeing the worst, monsieur. "

"Which shows my wisdom. The men in our garrison are mercenaries, allattached to us only because we pay them. They all know who she is andwhat her wealth. "

"Pity you have not a man who is deaf and dumb, " said Tressan, half injest. But Marius looked up suddenly, his eyes serious. 

"We have as good, " said he. "There is the Italian knave Fortunioenrolled yesterday, as I have told you. He knows neither her wealth norher identity; nor if he did could he enter into traffic with her, for heknows no French, and she no Italian. "

The Dowager clapped her hands. "The very man!" she cried. 

But Marius, either from sheer perverseness, or because he did not shareher enthusiasm, made answer: "I have faith in Gilles. "

"Yes, " she mocked him, "and you had faith in Berthaud. Oh, if you havefaith in Gilles, let him remain; let no more be said. "

The obstinate boy took her advice, and shifted the subject, speaking toTressan of some trivial business connected with the Seneschalship. 

But madame, woman-like, returned to the matter whose abandoning she hadherself suggested. Marius, for all his affected disdain of it, viewed itwith a certain respect. And so in the end they sent for the recruit. 

Fortunio--who was no other than the man Garnache had known as"Sanguinetti"--brought him, still clad in the clothes in which he hadcome. He was a tall, limber fellow, with a very swarthy skin and black, oily-looking hair that fell in short ringlets about his ears and neck, and a black, drooping mustache which gave him a rather hang-dog look. There was a thick stubble of beard of several days' growth about hischin and face; his eyes were furtive in their glances, but of a deepblue that contrasted oddly with his blackness when he momentarily raisedthem. 

He wore a tattered jerkin, and his legs, in default of stockings, wereswathed in soiled bandages and cross-gartered from ankle to knee. Hestood in a pair of wooden shoes, from one of which peeped forth somewisps of straw, introduced, no doubt, to make the footgear fit. Heslouched and shuffled in his walk, and he was unspeakably dirty. Nevertheless, he was girt with a sword in a ragged scabbard hanging froma frayed and shabby belt of leather. 

Madame scanned him with interest. The fastidious Marius eyed him withdisgust. The Seneschal peered at him curiously through shortsightedeyes. 

"I do not think I have ever seen a dirtier ruffian, " said he. 

"I like his nose, " said madame quietly. "It is the nose of an intrepidman. "

"It reminds me of Garnache's, " laughed the Seneschal. 

"You flatter the Parisian, " commented Marius. 

The mercenary, meanwhile, stood blandly smiling at the party, showing atleast a fine array of teeth, and wearing the patient, attentive air ofone who realizes himself to be under discussion, yet does not understandwhat is being said. 

"A countryman of yours, Fortunio?" sneered Marius. 

The captain, whose open, ingenuous countenance dissembled asvillainous a heart as ever beat in the breast of any man, disowned thecompatriotism with a smile. 

"Hardly, monsieur, " said he. "'Battista' is a Piedmontese. " Fortuniohimself was a Venetian. 

"Is he to be relied upon, think you?" asked madame. Fortunio shruggedhis shoulders and spread his hands. It was not his habit to trust anyman inordinately. 

"He is an old soldier, " said he. "He has trailed a pike in theNeapolitan wars. I have cross-questioned him, and found his answers boreout the truth of what he said. "

"And what brings him to France?" asked Tressan. The captain smiledagain, and there came again that expressive shrug of his. "A littleover-ready with the steel, " said he. 

They told Fortunio that they proposed to place him sentry overmademoiselle instead of Gilles, as the Italian's absolute lack of Frenchwould ensure against corruption. The captain readily agreed with them. It would be a wise step. The Italian fingered his tattered hat, his eyeson the ground. 

Suddenly madame spoke to him. She asked him for some account of himselfand whence he came, using the Italian tongue, of which she had a passingknowledge. He followed her questions very attentively, at times withapparent difficulty, his eyes on her face, his head craned a littleforward. 

Now and then Fortunio had to intervene, to make plainer to this ignorantPiedmontese mind the Marquise's questions. His answers came in adeep, hoarse voice, slurred by the accent of Piedmont, and madame--herknowledge of Italian being imperfect--had frequently to have recourse toFortunio to discover the meaning of what he said. 

At last she dismissed the pair of them, bidding the captain see that hewas washed and more fittingly clothed. 

An hour later, after the Seneschal had taken his departure to ride hometo Grenoble, it was madame herself, accompanied by Marius and Fortunio, who conducted Battista--such was the name the Italian had given--tothe apartments above, where mademoiselle was now confined practically aprisoner. 

CHAPTER XI. VALERIE'S GAOLER

My child, said the Dowager, and her eyes dwelt on Valerie with a look ofstudied gentleness, "why will you not be reasonable?"

The constant reflection that Garnache was at large, making his way backto Paris to stir up vengeance for the outrage put upon him, was notwithout a certain chastening effect upon the Dowager. She had a way ofsaying that she had as good a stomach for a fight as any man in France, and a fight there should be if it came to it and Garnache should returnto assail Condillac. Yet a certain pondering of the consequences, acertain counting of the cost--ordinarily unusual to her nature led herto have recourse to persuasion and to a gentleness no less unusual. 

Valerie's eyes were raised to hers with a look that held more scorn thanwonder. They were standing in the antechamber of Valerie's room. Yonderat his post lounged the recruit "Battista, " looking a trifle cleanerthan when first he had been presented to the Marquise, but still notclean enough for a lady's antechamber. He was leaning stolidly againstthe sill of the window, his eyes on the distant waters of the Isere, which shone a dull copper colour in the afterglow of the October sunset. His face was vacant, his eyes pensive, as he stood there undisturbed bythe flow of a language he did not understand. 

Fortunio and Marius had departed, and the Marquise--played upon by herunusual tremors--had remained behind for a last word with the obstinategirl. 

"In what, madame, " asked Valerie, "does my conduct fall short ofreasonableness?"

The Dowager made a movement of impatience. If at every step she wereto be confronted by these questions, which had in them a savour ofchallenge, she was wasting time in remaining. 

"You are unreasonable, in this foolish clinging to a promise given foryou. "

"Given by me, madame, " the girl amended, knowing well to what promisethe Dowager referred. 

"Given by you, then; but given at an age when you could not understandthe nature of it. They had no right to bind you so. "

"If it is for any to question that right, it is for me, " Valerie madeanswer, her eyes ever meeting the Dowager's unflinchingly. "And I amcontent to leave that right unquestioned. I am content to fill thepromise given. In honour I could not do less. "

"Ah! In honour!" The Dowager sighed. Then she came a step nearer, andher face grew sweetly wistful. "But your heart, child; what of yourheart?"

"My heart concerns myself. I am the betrothed of Florimond--that is allthat concerns the world and you. I respect and admire him more than anyliving man, and I shall be proud to become his wife when he returns, ashis wife I shall become in spite of all that you and your son may do. "

The Dowager laughed softly, as if to herself. 

"And if I tell you that Florimond is dead?"

"When you give me proof of that, I shall believe it, " the girl replied. The Marquise looked at her, her face manifesting no offence at thealmost insulting words. 

"And if I were to lay that proof before you?" she inquired, sadlyalmost. 

Valerie's eyes opened a trifle wider, as if in apprehension. But heranswer was prompt and her voice steady. "It still could have no effectupon my attitude towards your son. "

"This is foolishness, Valerie--"

"In you it is, madame, " the girl broke in; "a foolishness to think youcan constrain a girl, compel her affections, command her love, by suchmeans as you have employed towards me. You think that it predisposes meto be wooed, that it opens my heart to your son, to see myself gaoledthat he may pay me his court. "

"Gaoled, child? Who gaols you?" the Dowager cried, as if the mostsurprising utterance had fallen from Valerie's lips. 

Mademoiselle smiled in sorrow and some scorn. 

"Am I not gaoled, then?" she asked. "What call you this? What does thatfellow there? He is to lie outside my door at nights to see that noneholds communication with me. He is to go with me each morning to thegarden, when, by your gracious charity I take the air. Sleeping andwaking the man is ever within hearing of any word that I may utter--"

"But if he has no French!" the Dowager protested. 

"To ensure, no doubt, against any attempt of mine to win him to my side, to induce him to aid me escape from this prison. Oh, madame, I tell youyou do but waste time, and you punish me and harass yourself to littlepurpose. Had Marius been such a man as I might have felt it in my natureto love which Heaven forbid!--these means by which you have sought tobring that thing about could but have resulted in making me hate him asI do. "

The Dowager's fears were banished from her mind at that, and with themwent all thought of conciliating Valerie. Anger gleamed in her eyes; theset of her lips grew suddenly sneering and cruel, so that the beauty ofher face but served to render it hateful the more. 

"So that you hate him, ma mie?" a ripple of mockery on the current ofher voice, "and he a man such as any girl in France might be proudto wed. Well, well, you are not to be constrained, you say. " Andthe Marquise's laugh was menacing and unpleasant. "Be not so sure, mademoiselle. Be not so sure of that. It may well betide that you shallcome to beg upon your knees for this alliance with a man whom you tellme that you hate. Be not so sure you cannot be constrained. "

Their eyes met; both women were white to the lips, but it was curbedpassion in the one, and deadly fear in the other; for what the Dowager'swords left unsaid her eyes most eloquently conveyed. The girl shrankback, her hands clenched, her lip caught in her teeth. 

"There is a God in heaven, madame, " she reminded the Marquise. 

"Aye--in heaven, " laughed the Marquise, turning to depart. She paused bythe door, which the Italian had sprung forward to open for her. 

"Marius shall take the air with you in the morning if it is fine. Pondermeanwhile what I have said. "

"Does this man remain here, madame?" inquired the girl, vainly seekingto render her voice steady. 

"In the outer anteroom is his place: but as the key of this room is onhis side of the door, he may enter here when he so pleases, or when hethinks that he has reason to. If the sight of him displeases you, youmay lock yourself from it in your own chamber yonder. "

The same she said in Italian to the man, who bowed impassively, and followed the Dowager into the outer room, closing the door uponmademoiselle. It was a chamber almost bare of furniture, save for atable and chair which had been placed there, so that the gaoler mighttake his meals. 

The man followed the Marquise across the bare floor, their stepsresounding as they went, and he held the outer door for her. 

Without another word she left him, and where he stood he could hear hersteps as she tripped down the winding staircase of stone. At last thedoor of the courtyard closed with a bang, and the grating of a keyannounced to the mercenary that he and his charge were both imprisonedin that tower of the Chateau de Condillac. 

Left alone in the anteroom, mademoiselle crossed to the window anddropped limply into a chair. Her face was still very white, her heartbeating tumultuously, for the horrid threat that had been conveyed inthe Dowager's words had brought her her first thrill of real fear sincethe beginning of this wooing-by-force three months ago, a wooing whichhad become more insistent and less like a wooing day by day, until ithad culminated in her present helpless position. 

She was a strong-souled, high-spirited girl, but tonight hope seemedextinguished in her breast. Florimond, too, seemed to have abandonedher. Either he had forgotten her, or he was dead, as the Dowager said. Which might be the true state of things she did not greatly care. Therealization of how utterly she was in the power of Madame de Condillacand her son, and the sudden chance discovery of how unscrupulously thatpower might be wielded, filled her mind to the exclusion of all else. 

By the window she sat, watching, without heeding them, the fadingcolours in the sky. She was abandoned to these monsters, and it seemedthey would devour her. She could hope for no help from outside sincethey had as she believed--slain Monsieur de Garnache. Her mind dwelt fora moment on that glimpse of rescue that had been hers a week ago, uponthe few hours of liberty which she had enjoyed, but which only seemednow to increase the dark hopelessness of her imprisonment. 

Again with the eyes of her mind she beheld that grim, stalwart figure, saw his great nose, his greying hair, his fierce mustachios and hisstern, quick eyes. Again she heard the rasp of his metallic voice withits brisk derision. She saw him in the hall below, his foot upon theneck of that popinjay of Condillac daring them all to draw a breath, should he forbid it; again in fancy she rode on the withers of his horseat the gallop towards Grenoble. A sigh escaped her. Surely that was thefirst man who was indeed a man she had ever set eyes on since her fatherdied. Had Garnache been spared, she would have felt courage and shewould have hoped, for there was something about him that suggestedenergy and resource such as it is good to lean upon in times of stress. Again she heard that brisk, metallic voice: "Are you content, madame?Have you had fine deeds enough for one day?"

And then, breaking in upon her musings came the very voice of herday-dream, so suddenly, sounding so natural and lifelike that she almostscreamed, so startled was she. 

"Mademoiselle, " it said, "I beg that you'll not utterly lose heart. Ihave come back to the thing Her Majesty bade me do, and I'll do it, inspite of that tigress and her cub. "

She sat still as a statue, scarce breathing, her eyes fixed upon theviolet sky. The voice had ceased, but still she sat on. Then it wasslowly borne in upon her that that was no dream-voice, no trick of heroverburdened mind. A voice, a living, actual voice had uttered thosewords in this room, here at her elbow. 

She turned, and again she almost screamed; for there, just behind her, his glittering eyes fixed upon her with singular intentness, stood theswarthy, black-haired Italian gaoler they had given her because he hadno French. 

He had come up so quietly behind her that she had not heard hisapproach, and he was leaning forward now, with an odd suggestion ofcrouching in his attitude, like a beast about to spring. Yet his gazeriveted hers as with a fascination. And so, while she looked, his lipsmoved, and from them, in that same voice of her dreams, came from thisman who had no French, the words:

"Be not afraid, mademoiselle. I am that blunderer, Garnache, thatunworthy fool whose temper ruined what chance of saving you he had aweek ago. "

She stared like one going mad. 

"Garnache!" said she, in a husky whisper. "You Garnache?"

Yet the voice, she knew, was Garnache's and none other. It was a voicenot easily mistaken. And now, as she looked and looked, she saw that theman's nose was Garnache's, though oddly stained, and those keen eyes, they were Garnache's too. But the hair that had been brown and fleckedwith grey was black; the reddish mustachios that had bristled like amountain cat's were black, too, and they hung limp and hid from sightthe fine lines of his mouth. A hideous stubble of unshorn beard defacedhis chin and face, and altered its sharp outline; and the clear, healthyskin that she remembered was now a dirty brown. 

Suddenly the face smiled, and it was a smile that reassured her anddrove away the last doubt that she had. She was on her feet in aninstant. 

"Monsieur, monsieur, " was all that she could say; but her longing was tofling her arms about the neck of this man, as she might have flung themabout the neck of a brother or a father, and sob out upon his shoulderthe sudden relief and revulsion that his presence brought. 

Garnache saw something of her agitation, and to relieve it he smiled andbegan to tell her the circumstances of his return and his presentationto Madame as a knave who had no French. 

"Fortune was very good to me, mademoiselle, " said he. "I had little hopethat such a face as mine could be disguised, but I take no pride in whatyou see. It is the handiwork of Rabecque, the most ingenious lackey thatever served a foolish master. It helped me that having been ten years inItaly when I was younger, I acquired the language so well as to be ableto impose even upon Fortunio. In that lay a circumstance which at oncedisarmed suspicion, and if I stay not so long as it shall take the dyeto wear from my hair and beard and the staining from my face, I shallhave little to fear. "

"But, monsieur, " she cried, "you have everything to fear!" And alarmgrew in her eyes. 

But he laughed again for answer. "I have faith in my luck, mademoiselle, and I think I am on the tide of it at present. I little hoped when Imade my way into Condillac in this array that I should end, by virtueof my pretended ignorance of French, in being appointed gaoler to you. Ihad some ado to keep the joy from my eyes when I heard them planning it. It is a thing that has made all else easy. "

"But what can you do alone, monsieur?" she asked him; and there was anote almost of petulance in her voice. 

He moved to the window, and leaned his elbow on the sill. The light wasfast fading. "I know not yet. But I am here to contrive a means. I shallthink and watch. "

"You know in what hourly peril I am placed, " she cried, and suddenlyremembering that he must have overheard and understood the Dowager'swords, a sudden heat came to her cheeks to recede again and leave themmarble-pale. And she thanked Heaven that in the dusk and in the shadowwhere she stood he could but ill make out her face. 

"If you think that I have been rash in returning--"

"No, no, not rash, monsieur; noble and brave above all praise. I wouldindeed I could tell you how noble and brave I account your action. "

"It is as nothing to the bravery required to let Rabecque do thishideous work upon a face for which I have ever entertained some measureof respect. "

He jested, sooner than enlighten her that it was his egregious pridehad fetched him back when he was but a few hours upon his journeyPariswards, his inability to brook the ridicule that would be his whenhe announced at the Luxembourg that failure had attended him. 

"Ah, but what can you do alone?" she repeated. 

"Give me at least a day or two to devise some means; let me look roundand take the measure of this gaol. Some way there must be. I have notcome so far and so successfully to be beaten now. Still, " he continued, "if you think that I overrate my strength or my resource, if youwould sooner that I sought men and made an assault upon Condillac, endeavouring to carry it and to let the Queen's will prevail by force ofarms, tell me so, and I am gone tomorrow. "

"Whither would you go?" she cried, her voice strained with suddenaffright. 

"I might seek help at Lyons or Moulins. I might find loyal soldiers whowould be willing to follow me by virtue of my warrant to levy such helpas I may require, if I but tell them that the help was refused me inGrenoble. I am not sure that it would be so, for, unfortunately, mywarrant is for the Seneschal of Dauphiny only. Still, I might make theattempt. "

"No, no, " she implored him, and in her eagerness to have him put allthought of leaving her from his mind, she caught him by the arm andraised a pleading face to his. "Do not leave me here, monsieur; of yourpity do not leave me alone amongst them. Think me a coward if you will, monsieur: I am no less. They have made a coward of me. "

He understood the thing she dreaded, and a great pity welled up fromhis generous heart for this poor unfriended girl at the mercy of thebeautiful witch of Condillac and her beautiful rascally son. He pattedthe hand that clutched his arm. 

"I think, myself, that it will be best if I remain, now that I have comeso far, " he said. "Let me ponder things. It may well be that I shalldevise some way. "

"May Heaven inspire you, monsieur. I shall spend the night in prayer, Ithink, imploring God and His saints to show you the way you seek. "

"Heaven, I think, should hear your prayers, mademoiselle, " he answeredmusingly, his glance upon the white, saintly face that seemed to shinein the deepening gloom. Then, suddenly he stirred and bent to listen. 

"Sh! Some one is coming, " he whispered. And he sped quickly from herside and into the outer room, where he sank noiselessly on to his chairas the steps ascended the stone staircase and a glow of yellow lightgrew gradually in the doorway that opened on to it. 

CHAPTER XII. A MATTER OF CONSCIENCE

That he might inspire the more confidence in the Dowager and her sonGarnache organized and performed a little comedy at Condillac a coupleof nights after his appointment as mademoiselle's gaoler. He gave analarm at dead midnight, and when half-clad men, followed presentlyby madame and Marian, rushed into the anteroom where he stood, a verypicture of the wildest excitement, he drew their attention to twotwisted sheets, tied end to end, hanging from the window whichoverlooked the moat; and in answer to the marquise's questions heinformed her that he had been disturbed by sounds of movements andupon entering the chamber he had discovered mademoiselle making thesepreparations for departure. 

Valerie, locked in the inner chamber, refused to come forth as theMarquise bade her, but her voice reassured Madame de Condillac of herpresence, and so, since her attempt had failed, madame was content tolet her be. 

"The little fool, " she said, peering down from the window into thenight; "she would have been killed for certain. Her rope of sheets doesnot reach more than a third of the way down. She would have had overthirty feet to fall, and if that had not been enough to finish her, shewould of a certainty have, been drowned in the moat. "

She signified her satisfaction with the faithful "Battista's" vigilanceby a present of some gold pieces in the morning, and since the height ofthe window and the moat beneath it did not appear sufficient obstaclesto mademoiselle's attempts at effecting her escape, the Dowager had thewindow nailed down. Thus, only by breaking it could egress be obtained, and the breaking of it could not be effected without such a noise asmust arouse "Battista. "

Under Garnache's instructions the comedy was carried a little further. Mademoiselle affected for her gaoler a most unconquerable aversion, andthis she took pains to proclaim. 

One morning, three days after her attempted escape, she was taking theair in the garden of Condillac, "Battista, " ever watchful, a few pacesbehind her, when suddenly she was joined by Marius--a splendid, gracefulfigure in a riding-suit of brown velvet and biscuit-coloured hose, hispoints tipped with gold, his long boots of the finest marroquin leather, his liver-coloured hound at his heels. It was the last day of October, but the weather, from cold and wet that it had been for the pastfortnight, had taken on a sudden improvement. The sun shone, the airwas still and warm, and but for the strewn leaves and the faint smellof decay with which the breath of autumn is ever laden, one might havefancied it a day of early spring. 

It was not Valerie's wont to pause when Marius approached. Since shemight not prevent him from walking where he listed, she had long sinceabandoned the futility of bidding him begone when he came near her. But, at least, she had never stopped in her walk, never altered its pace; shehad suffered what she might not avoid, but she had worn the outward airof suffering it with indifference. This morning, however, she made adeparture from her long habit. Not only did she pause upon observing hisapproach, but she called to him as if she would have him hasten to herside. And hasten he did, a new light in his eyes that was mostly ofsurprise, but a little, also, of hope. 

She was gracious to him for once, and gave him good morning in a mannerthat bordered upon the pleasant. Wondering, he fell into step besideher, and they paced together the yew-bordered terrace, the ever-vigilantbut discreet "Battista" following them, though keeping now a few pacesfarther in the rear. 

For a little while they appeared constrained, and their talk was of thefalling leaves and the grateful change that had so suddenly come uponthe weather. Suddenly she stopped and faced him. 

"Will you do me a favour, Marius?" she asked. He halted too, and turnedto her, studying her gentle face, seeking to guess her mind in theclear hazel eyes she raised to his. His eyebrows lifted slightly withsurprise. Nevertheless--

"There is in all the world, Valerie, nothing you could ask me that Iwould not do, " he protested. 

She smiled wistfully. "How easy it is to utter words!" she sighed. 

"Marry me, " he answered, leaning towards her, his eyes devouring hernow, "and you shall find my words very quickly turned to deeds. "

"Ah, " said she, and her smile broadened and took on a scornful twist, "you make conditions now. If I will marry you, there is nothing you willnot do for me; so that, conversely, I may take it that if I do not marryyou, there is nothing you will do. But in the meantime, Marius, untilI resolve me whether I will marry you or not, would you not do a littlething that I might ask of you?"

"Until you resolve?" he cried, and his face flushed with the sudden hopehe gathered from those words. Hitherto there had been no suggestion ofa possible modification of attitude towards his suit. It had beenrepulsion, definite and uncompromising. Again he studied her face. Was she fooling him, this girl with the angel-innocence of glance? Thethought of such a possibility cooled him instantly. "What is it you wantof me?" he asked, his voice ungracious. 

"Only a little thing, Marius. " Her glance travelled back over hershoulder to the tall, limber fellow in leather jerkin and withcross-gartered legs who lounged a dozen steps behind them. "Rid me ofthat ruffian's company, " said she. 

Marius looked back at "Battista, " and from him to Valerie. Then hesmiled and made a slight movement with his shoulders. 

"But to what end?" he asked, as one who pleadingly opposes an argumentthat is unreasonable. "Another would replace him, and there is little tochoose among the men that garrison Condillac. "

"Little, perhaps; but that little matters. " Sure of her ground, andgathering from his tone and manner that the more ardently she beggedthis thing the less likely would it be that she should prevail, shepursued her intercessions with a greater heat. "Oh, " she cried, in apretended rage, "it is to insult me to give me that unclean knave forperpetual company. I loathe and detest him. The very sight of him is toomuch to endure. "

"You exaggerate, " said he coldly. 

"I do not; indeed I do not, " she rejoined, looking frankly, pleadinglyinto his face. "You do not realize what it is to suffer the insolentvigilance of such as he; to feel that your every step is undersurveillance; to feel his eyes ever upon you when you are within hissight. Oh, it is insufferable!"

Suddenly he gripped her arm, his face within a hand's breadth of herown, his words falling hot and quickly on her ear. 

"It is yours to end it when you will, Valerie, " he passionately remindedher. "Give yourself into my keeping. Let it be mine to watch over youhenceforth. Let me--"

Abruptly he ceased. She had drawn back her head, her face was white tothe lips, and in her eyes, as they dwelt on his at such close quarters, there appeared a look of terror, of loathing unutterable. He saw it, andreleasing her arm he fell back as if she had struck him. The colour lefthis face too. 

"Or is it, " he muttered thickly, "that I inspire you, with much the samefeeling as does he?"

She stood before him with lowered eyelids, her bosom heaving still fromthe agitation of fear his closeness had aroused in her. He studied herin silence a moment, with narrowing eyes and tightening lips. Thenanger stirred in him, and quenched the sorrow with which at first he hadmarked the signs of her repulsion. But anger in Marius de Condillac wasa cold and deadly emotion that vented itself in no rantings, utteredno loud-voiced threats or denunciations, prompted no waving of arms orplucking forth of weapons. 

He stooped towards her again from his stately, graceful height. The cruelty hidden in the beautiful lines of his mouth took instantprominence in the smile that flickered round it. 

"I think that Battista makes a very excellent watchdog, " he said, andyou would have thought him amused, as if at the foolish subterfuge ofsome little child. "You may be right to dislike him. He knows no French, so that it may not be yours to pervert and bribe him with promises ofwhat you will do if he assists you to escape; but you will see that thisvery quality which renders him detestable to you renders him invaluableto us. "

He laughed softly, as one well pleased with his own astuteness, doffedhis hat with a politeness almost exaggerated, and whistling his dog heabruptly left her. 

Thus were Marius and his mother--to whom he bore the tale of Valerie'srequest--tricked further into reposing the very fullest trust in thewatchful, incorruptible "Battista. " Realizing that this would be so, Garnache now applied himself more unreservedly to putting into effectthe plans he had been maturing. And he went about it with a zest thatknew no flagging, with a relish that nothing could impair. Not that itwas other than usual for Garnache to fling himself whole-heartedly intothe conduct of any enterprise he might have upon his hands; but hehad come into this affair at Condillac against his will; stress ofcircumstances it was had driven him on, step by step, to take a personalhand in the actual deliverance of Valerie. 

It was vanity and pride that had turned him back when already he was onthe road to Paris; not without yet a further struggle would he acceptdefeat. To this end had he been driven, for the first time in his life, to the indignity of his foul disguise; and he, whose methods had everbeen direct, had been forced to have recourse to the commonest ofsubterfuges. It was with anger in his heart that he had proceeded toplay the part he had assumed. He felt it to be a thing unworthy ofhim, a thing that derogated from his self-respect. Had he but had thejustification of some high political aim, he might have endured itwith a better resignation; the momentous end to be served might havesanctioned the ignoble means adopted. But here was a task in itselfalmost as unworthy of him as the methods by which he now set aboutaccomplishing it. He was to black his face and dye his beard and hair, stain his skin and garb himself in filthy rags, for no better end thanthat he might compass the enlargement of a girl from the captivity intowhich she had been forced by a designing lady of Dauphiny. Was that atask to set a soldier, a man of his years and birth and name? He hadrevolted at it; yet that stubborn pride of his that would not brook hisreturn to Paris to confess himself defeated by a woman over this woman'sbusiness, held him relentlessly to his distasteful course. 

And gradually the distaste of it had melted. It had begun to fallaway five nights ago, when he had heard what passed between Madame deCondillac and Valerie. A great pity for this girl, a great indignationagainst those who would account no means too base to achieve their endswith her, a proper realization of the indignities she was suffering, caused him to shed some of his reluctance, some of his sense of injuryto himself. 

His innate chivalry, that fine spirit of his which had ever prompted himto defend the weak against the oppressor, stirred him now, and stirredhim to such purpose that, in the end, from taking up the burden of histask reluctantly, he came to bear it zestfully and almost gladly. He wasrejoiced to discover himself equipped with histrionic gifts of whichhe had had no suspicion hitherto, and it delighted him to set them intoactivity. 

Now it happened that at Condillac there was a fellow countryman of"Battista's, " a mercenary from Northern Italy, a rascal named Arsenio, whom Fortunio had enlisted when first he began to increase the garrisona month ago. Upon this fellow's honesty Garnache had formed designs. He had closely observed him, and in Arsenio's countenance he thought hedetected a sufficiency of villainy to augur well for the prosperityof any scheme of treachery that might be suggested to him provided thereward were adequate. 

Garnache went about sounding the man with a wiliness peculiarly his own. Arsenio being his only compatriot at Condillac it was not wonderfulthat in his few daily hours of relief from his gaoler's duty "Battista"should seek out the fellow and sit in talk with him. The pair becameintimate, and intercourse between them grew more free and unrestrained. Garnache waited, wishing to risk nothing by precipitancy, and watchedfor his opportunity. It came on the morrow of All Saints. On that Day ofthe Dead, Arsenio, whose rearing had been that of a true son of MotherChurch, was stirred by the memory of his earthly mother, who had diedsome three years before. He was silent and moody, and showed littleresponsiveness to Garnache's jesting humour. Garnache, wondering whatmight be toward in the fellow's mind, watched him closely. 

Suddenly the little man--he was a short, bowlegged, sinewyfellow--heaved a great sigh as he plucked idly at a weed that grewbetween two stones of the inner courtyard, where they were seated on thechapel steps. 

"You are a dull comrade to-day, compatriot, " said Garnache, clapping himon the shoulder. 

"It is the Day of the Dead, " the fellow answered him, as though thatwere an ample explanation. Garnache laughed. 

"To those that are dead it no doubt is; so was yesterday, so willto-morrow be. But to us who sit here it is the day of the living. "

"You are a scoffer, " the other reproached him, and his rascally face wasoddly grave. "You don't understand. "

"Enlighten me, then. Convert me. "

"It is the day when our thoughts turn naturally to the dead, and mineare with my mother, who has lain in her grave these three years. I amthinking of what she reared me and of what I am. "

Garnache made a grimace which the other did not observe. He stared atthe little cut-throat, and there was some dismay in his glance. Whatailed the rogue? Was he about to repent him of his sins, and to havedone with villainy and treachery; was he minded to slit no more gulletsin the future, be faithful to the hand that paid him, and lead agodlier life? Peste! That was a thing that would nowise suit Monsieurde Garnache's ends just then. If Arsenio had a mind to reform, let himpostpone that reformation until Garnache should have done with him. Sohe opened his lips and let out a deep guffaw of mockery. 

"We shall have you turning monk, " said he, "a candidate for canonizationgoing barefoot, with flagellated back and shaven head. No more wine, nomore dice, no more wenches, no more--"

"Peace!" snapped the other. 

"Say 'Pax, "' suggested Garnache, "'Pax tecum, ' or `vobiscum. ' It is thusyou will be saying it later. "

"If my conscience pricks me, is it aught to you? Have you no conscienceof your own?"

"None. Men wax lean on it in this vale of tears. It is a thing inventedby the great to enable them to pursue the grinding and oppression of thesmall. If your master pays you ill for the dirty work you do for himand another comes along to offer you some rich reward for an omission inthat same service, you are warned that if you let yourself be tempted, your conscience will plague you afterwards. Pish! A clumsy, childishdevice that, to keep you faithful. "

Arsenio looked up. Words that defamed the great were ever welcome tohim; arguments that showed him he was oppressed and imposed upon soundedever gratefully in his ears. He nodded his approval of "Battista's"dictum. 

"Body of Bacchus!" he swore, "you are right in that, compatriot. But mycase is different. I am thinking of the curse that Mother Church hasput upon this house. Yesterday was All Saints, and never a Mass heard I. To-day is All Souls, and never a prayer may I offer up in this place ofsin for the rest of my mother's soul. "

"How so?" quoth Garnache, looking in wonder at this religiously mindedcut-throat. 

"How so? Is not the House of Condillac under excommunication, and everyman who stays in it of his own free will? Prayers and Sacraments arealike forbidden here. "

Garnache received a sudden inspiration. He leapt to his feet, his faceconvulsed as if at the horror of learning of a hitherto undreamt-ofstate of things. He never paused to give a moment's consideration to thecut-throat's mind, so wonderfully constituted as to enable him to breakwith impunity every one of the commandments every day of the week forthe matter of a louis d'or or two, and yet be afflicted by qualms ofconscience at living under a roof upon which the Church had hurled hermalediction. 

"What are you saying, compatriot? What is it that you tell me?"

"The truth, " said Arsenio, with a shrug. "Any man who wilfully abides inthe services of Condillac"--and instinctively he lowered his voicelest the Captain or the Marquise should be within earshot--, "isexcommunicate. "

"By the Host!" swore the false Piedmontese. "I am a Christian manmyself, Arsenio, and I have lived in ignorance of this thing?"

"That ignorance may be your excuse. But now that you know--" Arsenioshrugged his shoulders. 

"Now that I know, I, had best have a care of my soul and look about mefor other employment. "

"Alas!" sighed Arsenio; "it is none so easy to find. "

Garnache looked at him. Garnache began to have in his luck a stillgreater faith than hitherto. He glanced stealthily around; then he satdown again, so that his mouth was close to Arsenio's ear. 

"The pay is beggarly here, yet I have refused a fortune offered me byanother that I might remain loyal to my masters at Condillac. But thisthing that you tell me alters everything. By the Host! yes. "

"A fortune?" sneered Arsenio. 

"Aye, a fortune--at least, fifty pistoles. That is a fortune to some ofus. "

Arsenio whistled. "Tell me more, " said he. 

Garnache rose with the air of one about to depart. 

"I must think of it, " said he, and he made shift to go. But the other'shand fell with a clenching grip upon his arm. 

"Of what must you think, fool?" said he. "Tell me this service you havebeen offered. I have a conscience that upbraids me. If you refuse thesefifty pistoles, why should not I profit by your folly?"

"There would not be the need. Two men are required for the thing I speakof, and there are fifty pistoles for each. If I decide to undertake thetask, I'll speak of you as a likely second. "

He nodded gloomily to his companion, and shaking off his hold he set outto cross the yard. But Arsenio was after him and had fastened again uponhis arm, detaining him. 

"You fool!" said he; "you'd not refuse this fortune?"

"It would mean treachery, " whispered Garnache. 

"That is bad, " the other agreed, and his face fell. But remembering whatGarnache had said, he was quick to brighten again. "Is it to thesefolk here at Condillac?" he asked. Garnache nodded. "And they wouldpay--these people that seek our service would pay you fifty pistoles?"

"They seek my service only, as yet. They might seek yours were I tospeak for you. "

"And you will, compatriot. You will, will you not? We are comrades, weare friends, and we are fellow-countrymen in a strange land. There isnothing I would not do for you, Battista. Look, I would die for you ifthere should come the need! Body of Bacchus! I would. I am like thatwhen I love a man. "

Garnache patted his shoulder. "You are a good fellow, Arsenio. "

"And you will speak for me?"

"But you do not know the nature of the service, " said Garnache. "You mayrefuse it when it is definitely offered you. "

"Refuse fifty pistoles? I should deserve to be the pauper that I amif such had been my habits. Be the service what it may, my consciencepricks me for serving Condillac. Tell me how the fifty pistoles are tobe earned, and you may count upon me to put my hand to anything. "

Garnache was satisfied. But he told Arsenio no more that day, beyondassuring him he would speak for him and let him know upon the morrow. Nor on the morrow, when they returned to the subject at Arsenio'seager demand, did Garnache tell him all, or even that the service wasmademoiselle's. Instead he pretended that it was some one in Grenoblewho needed two such men as they. 

"Word has been brought me, " he said mysteriously. "You must not ask mehow. "

"But how the devil are we to reach Grenoble? The Captain will never letus go, " said Arsenio, in an ill-humour. 

"On the night that you are of the watch, Arsenio, we will departtogether without asking the Captain's leave. You shall open the posternwhen I come to join you here in the courtyard. "

"But what of the man at the door yonder?" And he jerked his thumbtowards the tower where mademoiselle was a captive, and where at night"Battista" was locked in with her. At the door leading to the courtyarda sentry was always posted for greater security. That door and thatsentry were obstacles which Garnache saw the futility of attemptingto overcome without aid. That was why he had been forced to enlistArsenio's assistance. 

"You must account for him, Arsenio, " said he. 

"Thus?" inquired Arsenio coolly, and he passed the edge of his handsignificantly across his throat. Garnache shook his head. 

"No, " said he; "there will be no need for that. A blow over the headwill suffice. Besides, it may be quieter. You will find the key of thetower in his belt. When you have felled him, get it and unlock the door;then whistle for me. The rest will be easy. "

"You are sure he has the key?"

"I have it from madame herself. They were forced to leave it with him toprovide for emergencies. Mademoiselle's attempted escape by the windowshowed them the necessity for it. " He did not add that it was theimplicit confidence they reposed in "Battista" himself that had overcometheir reluctance to leave the key with the sentry. 

To seal the bargain, and in earnest of all the gold to come, Garnachegave Arsenio a couple of gold louis as a loan to be repaid him whentheir nameless employer should pay him his fifty pistoles in Grenoble. 

The sight and touch of the gold convinced Arsenio that the thing was nodream. He told Garnache that he believed he would be on guard-dutyon the night of the following Wednesday--this was Friday--and so forWednesday next they left the execution of their plans unless, meantime, a change should be effected in the disposition of the sentries. 

CHAPTER XIII. THE COURIER

Monsieur de Garnache was pleased with the issue of his little affairwith Arsenio. 

"Mademoiselle, " he told Valerie that evening, "I was right to have faithin my luck, right to believe that the tide of it is flowing. All we neednow is a little patience; everything has become easy. "

It was the hour of supper. Valerie was at table in her anteroom, and"Battista" was in attendance. It was an added duty they had imposed uponhim, for, since her attempt to escape, mademoiselle's imprisonment hadbeen rendered more rigorous than ever. No servant of the chateau wasallowed past the door of the outer anteroom, now commonly spoken of asthe guardroom of the tower. Valerie dined daily in the salon with Madamede Condillac and Marius, but her other meals were served her in herown apartments. The servants who brought the meals from the kitchendelivered them to "Battista" in the guardroom, and he it was who laidthe cloth and waited upon mademoiselle. At first this added duty hadirritated him more than all that he had so far endured. Had he MartinMarie Rigobert de Garnache lived to discharge the duties of a lackey, to bear dishes to a lady's table and to remain at hand to serve her?The very thought had all but set him in a rage. But presently he grewreconciled to it. It afforded him particular opportunities of being inmademoiselle's presence and of conferring with her; and for the sakeof such an advantage he might well belittle the unsavoury part of theaffair. 

A half-dozen candles burned in two gleaming silver sconces on the table;in her tall-backed leather chair mademoiselle sat, and ate and drank butlittle, while Garnache told her of the preparations he had made. 

"If my luck but holds until Wednesday next, " he concluded, "you maycount upon being well out of Condillac. Arsenio does not dream that youcome with us, so that even should he change his mind, at least wehave no cause to fear a betrayal. But he will not change his mind. Theprospect of fifty pistoles has rendered it immutable. "

She looked up at him with eyes brightened by hope and by theencouragement to count upon success which she gathered from hisoptimism. 

"You have contrived it marvellously well, " she praised him. "If wesucceed--"

"Say when we succeed, mademoiselle, " he laughingly corrected her. 

"Very well, then--when we shall have succeeded in leaving Condillac, whither am I to go?"

"Why, with me, to Paris, as was determined. My man awaits me at Voironwith money and horses. No further obstacle shall rise to hamper us onceour backs are turned upon the ugly walls of Condillac. The Queen shallmake you welcome and keep you safe until Monsieur Florimond comes toclaim his bride. "

She sipped her wine, then set down the glass and leaned her elbow on thetable, taking her chin in her fine white hand. "Madame tells me that heis dead, " said she, and Garnache was shocked at the comparative calmnesswith which she said it. He looked at her sharply from under his sootedbrows. Was she, after all, he wondered, no different from other women?Was she cold and calculating, and had she as little heart as he had cometo believe was usual with her sex, that she could contemplate so calmlythe possibility of her lover being dead? He had thought her better, morenatural, more large-hearted and more pure. That had encouraged him tostand by her in these straits of hers, no matter at what loss of dignityto himself. It began to seem that his conclusions had been wrong. 

His silence caused her to look up, and in his face she read something ofwhat was passing in his thoughts. She smiled rather wanly. 

"You are thinking me heartless, Monsieur de Garnache?"

"I am thinking you--womanly. "

"The same thing, then, to your mind. Tell me, monsieur, do you know muchof women?"

"God forbid! I have found trouble enough in my life. "

"And you pass judgment thus upon a sex with which you have noacquaintance?"

"Not by acquaintance only is it that we come to knowledge. There areways of learning other than by the road of experience. One may learn ofdangers by watching others perish. It is the fool who will be satisfiedalone with the knowledge that comes to him from what he undergoeshimself. "

"You are very wise, monsieur, " said she demurely, so demurely that hesuspected her of laughing at him. "You were never wed?"

"Never, mademoiselle, " he answered stiffly, "nor ever in any danger ofit. "

"Must you, indeed, account it a danger?"

"A deadly peril, mademoiselle, " said he; whereupon they both laughed. 

She pushed back her chair and rose slowly. Slowly she passed from thetable and stepped towards the window. Turning she set her back to it, and faced him. 

"Monsieur de Garnache, " said she, "you are a good man, a true and noblegentleman. I would that you thought a little better of us. All women arenot contemptible, believe me. I will pray that you may yet mate with onewho will prove to you the truth of what I say. "

He smiled gently, and shook his head. 

"My child, " said he, "I am not half the noble fellow you account me. Ihave a stubborn pride that stands me at times in the stead of virtue. It was pride brought me back here, for instance. I could not brook thelaughter that would greet me in Paris did I confess that I was beaten bythe Dowager of Condillac. I tell you this to the end that, thinkingless well of me, you may spare me prayers which I should dread to seefulfilled. I have told you before, mademoiselle, Heaven is likely toanswer the prayers of such a heart as yours. "

"Yet but a moment back you deemed me heartless, " she reminded him. 

"You seemed so indifferent to the fate of Florimond de Condillac. "

"I must have seemed, then, what I am not, " she told him, "for I am farfrom indifferent to Florimond's fate. The truth is, monsieur, I donot believe Madame de Condillac. Knowing me to be under a promise thatnaught can prevail upon me to break, she would have me believe thatnature has dissolved the obligation for me. She thinks that were Ipersuaded of Florimond's death, I might turn an ear to the wooingof Marius. But she is mistaken, utterly mistaken; and so I sought toconvince her. My father willed that I should wed Florimond. Florimond'sfather had been his dearest friend. I promised him that I would do hiswill, and by that promise I am bound. But were Florimond indeed dead, and were I free to choose, I should not choose Marius were he the onlyman in all the world. "

Garnache moved nearer to her. 

"You speak, " said he, "as if you were indifferent in the matter ofwedding Florimond, whilst I understand that your letter to the Queenprofessed you eager for the alliance. I may be impertinent, but, frankly, your attitude puzzles me. "

"I am not indifferent, " she answered him, but calmly, withoutenthusiasm. "Florimond and I were playmates, and as a little child Iloved him and admired him as I might have loved and admired a brotherperhaps. He is comely, honourable, and true. I believe he would be thekindest husband ever woman had, and so I am content to give my life intohis keeping. What more can be needed?"

"Never ask me, mademoiselle; I am by no means an authority, " saidhe. "But you appear to have been well schooled in a most excellentphilosophy. " And he laughed outright. She reddened under his amusement. 

"It was thus my father taught me, " said she, in quieter tones; "andhe was the wisest man I ever knew, just as he was the noblest and thebravest. "

Garnache bowed his head. "God rest his soul!" said he with respectfulfervour. 

"Amen, " the girl replied, and they fell silent. 

Presently she returned to the subject of her betrothed. 

"If Florimond is living, this prolonged absence, this lack of newsis very strange. It is three months since last we heard of him--fourmonths, indeed. Yet he must have been apprised of his father's death, and that should have occasioned his return. "

"Was he indeed apprised of it?" inquired Garnache. "Did you, yourself, communicate the news to him?"

"I?" she cried. "But no, monsieur. We do not correspond. "

"That is a pity, " said Garnache, "for I believe that the knowledge ofthe Marquis's death was kept from him by his stepmother. "

"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed, in horror. "Do you mean that he may still bein ignorance of it?"

"Not that. A month ago a courier was dispatched to him by theQueen-Mother. The last news of him some four months old, as you havesaid--reported him at Milan in the service of Spain. Thither was thecourier sent to find him and to deliver him letters setting forth whatwas toward at Condillac. "

"A month ago?" she said. "And still we have no word. I am full of fearsfor him, monsieur. "

"And I, " said Garnache, "am full of hope that we shall have news of himat any moment. "

That he was well justified of his hope was to be proven before they weremany days older. Meanwhile Garnache continued to play his part of gaolerto the entire satisfaction and increased confidence of the Condillacs, what time he waited patiently for the appointed night when it should behis friend Arsenio's turn to take the guard. 

On that fateful Wednesday "Battista" sought out--as had now become hisinvariable custom--his compatriot as soon as the time of his noontiderest was come, the hour at which they dined at Condillac. He foundArsenio sunning himself in the outer courtyard, for it seemed that yearthat as the winter approached the warmth increased. Never could manremember such a Saint Martin's Summer as was this. 

In so far as the matter of their impending flight was concerned, "Battista" was as brief as he could be. 

"Is all well?" he asked. "Shall you be on guard to-night?"

"Yes. It is my watch from sunset till dawn. At what hour shall we bestirring?"

Garnache pondered a moment, stroking that firm chin of his, on which theerstwhile stubble had now grown into a straggling, unkempt beard--andit plagued him not a little, for a close observer might have discoveredthat it was of a lighter colour at the roots. His hair, too, wasbeginning to lose its glossy blackness. It was turning dull, andpresently, no doubt, it would begin to pale, so that it was high time hespread his wings and took flight from Condillac. 

"We had best wait until midnight. It will give them time to be soundlyin their slumbers. Though, should there be signs of any one stirringeven then, you had better wait till later. It were foolish to riskhaving our going prevented for the sake of leaving a half-hour earlier. "

"Depend upon me, " Arsenio answered him. "When I open the door of yourtower I shall whistle to you. The key of the postern hangs on theguardroom wall. I shall possess myself of that before I come. "

"Good, " said Garnache, "we understand each other. "

And on that they might have parted there and then, but that therehappened in that moment a commotion at the gate. Men hurried from theguardhouse, and Fortunio's voice sounded loud in command. A horseman hadgalloped up to Condillac, walked his horse across the bridge--whichwas raised only at night--and was knocking with the butt of his whip animperative summons upon the timbers of the gate. 

By Fortunio's orders it was opened, and a man covered with dust, astridea weary, foam-flecked horse, rode under the archway of the keep into thefirst courtyard of the chateau. 

Garnache eyed him in surprise and inquiry, and he read in the man'sappearance that he was a courier. The horseman had halted within a fewpaces of the spot where "Battista" and his companion stood, and seeingin the vilely clad Garnache a member of the Condillac household, heflung him his reins, then got down stiffly from his horse. 

Fortunio, bristling with importance, his left hand on the hilt of hisrapier, the fingers of his right twirling at his long fair mustachios, at once confronted him and craved his business. 

"I am the bearer of letters for Madame the Dowager Marquise deCondillac, " was the reply; whereupon, with an arrogant nod, Fortuniobade the fellow go with him, and issued an order that his horse shouldbe cared for. 

Arsenio was speaking in Garnache's ear. The man's nature wasinquisitive, and he was indulging idle conjectures as to what mightbe the news this courier brought. Garnache's mind, actuated by verydifferent motives, was engaged upon the same task, so much so that nota word heard he of what his supposed compatriot was whispering. Whencecame this courier? Why had not that fool Fortunio asked him, so thatGarnache might have overheard his answer? Was he from Paris and theQueen, or was he, perchance, from Italy and Florimond? These werequestions to which it imported him to have the answers. He must knowwhat letters the fellow brought. The knowledge might guide him now;might even cause him to alter the plans he had formed. 

He stood in thought whilst, unheeded by him, Arsenio prattled at hiselbow. He bethought him of the old minstrel's gallery at the end of thehall in which the Condillacs were dining and whither the courier wouldbe conducted. He knew the way to that gallery, for he had made a veryclose study of the chateau against the time when he might find himselfin need of the knowledge. 

With a hurried excuse to Arsenio he moved away, and, looking round tosee that he was unobserved, he was on the point of making his way to thegallery when suddenly he checked himself. What went he there to do? Toplay the spy? To become fellow to the lackey who listens at keyholes?Ah, no! That was something no service could demand of him. He might owea duty to the Queen, but there was also a duty that he owed himself, andthis duty forbade him from going to such extremes. Thus spake his Pride, and he mistook its voice for that of Honour. Betide what might, it wasnot for Garnache to play the eavesdropper. Not that, Pardieu!

And so he turned away, his desires in conflict with that pride of his, and gloomily he paced the courtyard, Arsenio marvelling what might havecome to him. And well was it for him that pride should have detainedhim; well would it seem as if his luck were indeed in the ascendant andhad prompted his pride to save him from a deadly peril. For suddenlysome one called "Battista!"

He heard, but for the moment, absorbed as he was in his own musings, he overlooked the fact that it was the name to which he answered atCondillac. 

Not until it was repeated more loudly, and imperatively, did he turn tosee Fortunio beckoning him. With a sudden dread anxiety, he steppedto the captain's side. Was he discovered? But Fortunio's words set hisdoubts to rest at once. 

"You are to re-conduct Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye to her apartments atonce. "

Garnache bowed and followed the captain up the steps and into thechateau that he might carry out the order; and as he went he shrewdlyguessed that it was the arrival of that courier had occasioned thesudden removal of mademoiselle. 

When they were alone together--he and she--in her anteroom in theNorthern Tower, she turned to him before he had time to question her ashe was intending. 

"A courier has arrived, " said she. 

"I know; I saw him in the courtyard. Whence is he? Did you learn it?"

"From Florimond. " She was white with agitation. 

"From the Marquis de Condillac?" he cried, and he knew not whether tohope or fear. "From Italy?"

"No, monsieur. I do not think from Italy. From what was said I gatheredthat Florimond is already on his way to Condillac. Oh, it made a finestir. It left them no more appetite for dinner, and they seem to havethought it could have left me none for mine, for they ordered my instantreturn to my apartments. "

"Then you know nothing--save that the courier is from the Marquis?"

"Nothing; nor am I likely to, " she answered, and her arms dropped limplyto her sides, her eyes looked entreatingly up into his gloomy face. 

But Garnache could do no more than rap out an oath. Then he stood stilla moment, his eyes on the window, his chin in his hand, brooding. His pride and his desire to know more of that courier's message werefighting it out again in his mind, just as they fought it out in thecourtyard below. Suddenly his glance fell on her, standing there, sosweet, so frail, and so disconsolate. For her sake he must do the thing, repulsive though it might be. 

"I must know more, " he exclaimed. "I must learn Florimond's whereabouts, if only that we may go to meet him when we leave Condillac to-night. "

"You have arranged definitely for that?" she asked, her face lighting. 

"All is in readiness, " he assured her. Then, lowering his voice withoutapparent reason, and speaking quickly and intently, "I must go find outwhat I can, " he said. "There may be a risk, but it is as nothing tothe risk we run of blundering matters through ignorance of what may beafoot. Should any one come--which is unlikely, for all those interestedwill be in the hall until the courier is dealt with--and should theyinquire into my absence, you are to know nothing of it since you have noItalian and I no French. All that you will know will be that you believeI went but a moment since to fetch water. You understand?"

She nodded. 

"Then lock yourself in your chamber till I return. "

He caught up a large earthenware vessel in which water was kept for hisown and mademoiselle's use, emptied it through the guard-room windowinto the moat below, then left the room and made his way down the stepsto the courtyard. 

He peered out. Not a soul was in sight. This inner courtyard was littletenanted at that time of day, and the sentry at the door of the towerwas only placed there at nightfall. Alongside this there stood anotherdoor, opening into a passage from which access might be gained to anypart of the chateau. Thrusting behind that door the earthenwarevessel that he carried, Garnache sped swiftly down the corridor on hiseavesdropping errand. Still his mind was in conflict. At times he cursedhis slowness, at times his haste and readiness to undertake so dirty abusiness, wishing all women at the devil since by the work of women washe put to such a shift as this. 

CHAPTER XIV. FLORIMOND'S LETTER

In the great hall of Condillac, where the Marquise, her son, andMademoiselle de La Vauvraye had been at dinner, a sudden confusion hadbeen spread by the arrival of that courier so soon as it was known thathe bore letters from Florimond, Marquis de Condillac. 

Madame had risen hastily, fear and defiance blending in her face, and she had at once commanded mademoiselle's withdrawal. Valerie hadwondered might there not be letters--or, leastways, messages--forherself from her betrothed. But her pride had suppressed the eagerquestion that welled up to her lips. She would, too, have questioned thecourier concerning Florimond's health; she would have asked him how theMarquis looked, and where the messenger had left him. But of all thisthat she craved to know, nothing could she bring herself to ask beforethe Marquise. 

She rose in silence upon hearing the Dowager order Fortunio to summonBattista that he might re-conduct mademoiselle to her apartments, and she moved a few paces down the hall, towards the door, in proud, submissive readiness to depart. Yet she could not keep her eyes from thedust-stained courier, who, having flung his hat and whip upon the floor, was now opening his wallet, the Dowager standing before him to receivehis papers. 

Marius, affecting an insouciance he did not feel, remained at table, his page behind his chair, his hound stretched at his feet; and he nowsipped his wine, now held it to the light that he might observe thebeauty of its deep red colour. 

At last Fortunio returned, and mademoiselle took her departure, head inthe air and outwardly seeming nowise concerned in what was taking place. With her went Fortunio. And the Marquise, who now held the package shehad received from the courier, bade the page depart also. 

When the three were at last alone, she paused before opening the letterand turned again to the messenger. She made a brave figure in theflood of sunlight that poured through the gules and azures of the longblazoned windows, her tall, lissome figure clad in a close-fitting robeof black velvet, her abundant glossy black hair rolled back under itswhite coif, her black eyes and scarlet lips detaching from the ivory ofher face, in which no trace of emotion showed, for all the anxiety thatconsumed her. 

"Where left you the Marquis de Condillac?" she asked the fellow. 

"At La Rochette, madame, " the courier answered, ' and his answer broughtMarius to his feet with an oath. 

"So near?" he cried out. But the Dowager's glance remained calm anduntroubled. 

"How does it happen that he did not hasten himself, to Condillac?" sheasked. 

"I do not know, madame. I did not see Monsieur le Marquis. It was hisservant brought me that letter with orders to ride hither. "

Marius approached his mother, his brow clouded. 

"Let us see what he says, " he suggested anxiously. But his mother didnot heed him. She stood balancing the package in her hand. 

"Can you tell us, then, nothing of Monsieur le Marquis?"

"Nothing more than I have told you, madame. "

She bade Marius call Fortunio, and then dismissed the courier, biddingher captain see to his refreshment. 

Then, alone at last with her son, she hastily tore the covering fromthe letter, unfolded it and read. And Marius, moved by anxiety, came tostand beside and just behind her, where he too might read. The letterran:

"MY VERY DEAR MARQUISE, --I do not doubt but that it will pleasure youto hear that I am on my way home, and that but for a touch of fever thathas detained us here at La Rochette, I should be at Condillac as soon asthe messenger who is the bearer of these presents. A courier from Parisfound me a fortnight since in Milan, with letters setting forth that myfather had been dead six months, and that it was considered expedient atCourt that I should return home forthwith to assume the administrationof Condillac. I am lost in wonder that a communication of this natureshould have been addressed to me from Paris instead of from you, assurely it must have been your duty to advise me of my father's deceaseat the time of that untoward event. I am cast down by grief at this evilnews, and the summons from Court has brought me in all haste from Milan. The lack of news from Condillac has been for months a matter of surpriseto me. My father's death may be some explanation of this, but scarcelyexplanation enough. However, madame, I count upon it that you will beable to dispel such doubts as I am fostering. I count too, upon beingat Condillac by the end of week, but I beg that neither you nor mydear Marius will allow this circumstance to make any difference toyourselves, just as, although I am returning to assume the government ofCondillac as the Court has suggested to me, I hope that yourself and mydear brother will continue to make it your home for as long as it shallpleasure you. So long shall it pleasure me. 

"I am, my dear marquise, your very humble and very affectionate servantand stepson, "FLORIMOND"

When she had read to the end, the Dowager turned back and read aloudthe passage: "However, madame, I count upon it that you will be able todispel such doubts as I am fostering. " She looked at her son, who hadshifted his position, so that he was now confronting her. 

"He has his suspicions that all is not as it should be, " sneered Marius. 

"Yet his tone is amiable throughout. It cannot be that they said toomuch in that letter from Paris. " A little trill of bitter laughterescaped her. "We are to continue to make this our home for as long as itshall pleasure us. So long shall it pleasure him!"

Then, with a sudden seriousness, she folded the letter and, putting herhands behind her, looked up into her son's face. 

"Well?" she asked. "What are you going to do?"

"Strange that he makes no mention of Valerie" said Marius pensively. 

"Pooh! A Condillac thinks lightly of his women. What are you going todo?"

His handsome countenance, so marvellously like her own, was overcast. Helooked gloomily at his mother for a moment; then with a slight twitchof the shoulders he turned and moved past her slowly in the directionof the hearth. He leaned his elbow on the overmantel and rested his browagainst his clenched right hand, and stood so awhile in moody thought. She watched him, a frown between her arrogant eyes. 

"Aye, ponder it, " said she. "He is at La Rochette, within a day's ride, and only detained there by a touch of fever. In any case he promises tobe here by the end of the week. By Saturday, then, Condillac will havepassed out of our power; it will be lost to you irretrievably. Will youlose La Vauvraye as well?"

He let his hand fall to his side, and turned, fully to face her. 

"What can I do? What can we do?" he asked, a shade of petulance in hisquestion. 

She stepped close up to him and rested her hand lightly upon hisshoulder. 

"You have had three months in which to woo that girl, and you havetarried sadly over it, Marius. You have now at most three days in whichto accomplish it. What will you do?"

"I have been maladroit perhaps, " he said, with bitterness. "I havebeen over-patient with her. I have counted too much upon the chance ofFlorimond's being dead, as seemed from the utter lack of news of him. Yet what could I do? Carry her off by force and compel at the dagger'spoint some priest to marry us?"

She moved her hand from his shoulder and smiled, as if she derided himand his heat. 

"You want for invention, Marius, " said she. "And yet I beg that you willexert your mind, or Sunday next shall find us well-nigh homeless. I'lltake no charity from the Marquis de Condillac, nor, I think, will you. "

"If all fails, " said he, "we have still your house in Touraine. "

"My house?" she echoed, her voice shrill with scorn. "My hovel, youwould say. Could you abide there--in such a sty?"

"Vertudieu! If all else failed, we might be glad of it. "

"Glad of it? Not I, for one. Yet all else will fail unless you bestiryourself in the next three days. Condillac is as good as lost toyou already, since Florimond is upon the threshold. La Vauvraye mostcertainly will be lost to you as well unless you make haste to snatch itin the little moment that is left you. "

"Can I achieve the impossible, madame?" he cried, and his impatiencewaxed beneath this unreasonable insistence of his mother's. 

"Who asks it of you?"

"Do not you, madame?"

"I? Pish! All that I urge is that you take Valerie across the borderinto Savoy where you can find a priest to marry you, and get it donethis side of Saturday. "

"And is not that the impossible? She will not go with me, as you wellknow, madame. "

There was a moment's silence. The Dowager shot him a glance; then hereyes fell. Her bosom stirred as if some strange excitement movedher. Fear and shame were her emotions; for a way she knew by whichmademoiselle might be induced to go with him--not only willingly, buteagerly, she thought--to the altar. But she was his mother, and even herharsh nature shuddered before the task of instructing him in this vilething. Why had the fool not wit enough to see it for himself?

Observing her silence Marius smiled sardonically. 

"You may well ponder it, " said he. "It is an easy matter to tell me whatI should do. Tell me, rather, how it should be done. "

His blindness stirred her anger, and her anger whelmed her hesitation. 

"Were I in your place, Marius, I should find a way, " said she, in avoice utterly expressionless, her eyes averted ever from his own. 

He scanned her curiously. Her agitation was plain to him, and it puzzledhim, as did the downcast glance of eyes usually so bold and insolent intheir gaze. Then he pondered her tone, so laden with expression by itsvery expressionlessness, and suddenly a flood of light broke upon hismind, revealing very clearly and hideously her meaning. He caught hisbreath with a sudden gasp and blenched a little. Then his lips tightenedsuddenly. 

"In that case, madame, " he said, after a pause, and speaking as if hewere still without revelation of her meaning, "I can but regret that youare not in my place. For, as it is, I am thinking we shall have to makethe best of the hovel in Touraine. "

She bit her lip in the intensity of her chagrin and shame. She was nofool, nor did she imagine from his words that her meaning had been lostupon him. She knew that he had understood, and that he chose to pretendthat he had not. She looked up suddenly, her dark eyes blazing, a splashof colour in either cheek. 

"Fool!" she snapped at him; "you lily-livered fool! Are you indeedmy son? Are you--by God!--that you talk so lightly of yielding?" Sheadvanced a step in his direction. "Through your cowardice you may becontent to spend your days in beggary; not so am I; nor shall I be, so long as I have an arm and a voice. You may go hence if your couragefails you outright; but I'll throw up the bridge and entrench myselfwithin these walls. Florimond de Condillac sets no foot in here while Ilive; and if he should come within range of musket-shot, it will be theworse for him. "

"I think you are mad, madame--mad so to talk of resisting him, as youare mad to call me coward. I'll leave you till you are come to a moretranquil frame of mind. " And turning upon his heel, his face on firefrom the lash of her contempt, he strode down the hall and passed out, leaving her alone. 

White again, with heaving bosom and clenched hands, she stood a momentwhere he had left her, then dropped into a chair, and taking her chinin her hand she rested her elbow on her knee. Thus she remained, thefirelight tinting her perfect profile, on which little might be read ofthe storm that was raging in her soul. Another woman in her place wouldhave sought relief in tears, but tears came rarely to the beautiful eyesof the Marquise de Condillac. 

She sat there until the sun had passed from the windows behind her andthe corners of the room were lost in the quickening shadows. At last shewas disturbed by the entrance of a lackey, who announced that Monsieurle Comte de Tressan, Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny, was come to Condillac. 

She bade the fellow call help to clear the board, where still was settheir interrupted noontide meal, and then to admit the Seneschal. With her back to the stirring, bustling servants she stood, pensivelyregarding the flames, and a smile that was mocking rather than aughtelse spread upon her face. 

If all else failed her, she told herself, there would be no Tourainehovel for her. She could always be Comtesse de Tressan. Let Marius workout alone the punishment of his cowardice. 

Away in the Northern Tower, where mademoiselle was lodged, she sat ineager talk with Garnache, who had returned unobserved and successfulfrom his journey of espionage. 

He had told her what from the conversation of Marius and his mother hehad learned touching the contents of that letter. Florimond lay as nearas La Rochette, detained there by a touch of fever, but promising to beat Condillac by the end of the week. Since that was so, Valerie opinedthere was no longer the need to put themselves to the trouble of theescape they had planned. Let them wait until Florimond came. 

But Garnache shook his head. He had heard more; and for all that heaccounted her at present safe from Marius, yet he made no false estimateof that supple gentleman's character, was not deluded by his momentaryshow of niceness. As the time of Florimond's arrival grew nearer, hethought it very possible that Marius might be rendered desperate. Therewas grave danger in remaining. He said naught of this, yet he convincedmademoiselle that it were best to go. 

"Though there will no longer be the need of a toilsome journey as faras Paris, " he concluded. "A four hours' ride to La Rochette, and you mayembrace your betrothed. "

"Did he speak of me in his letter, know you, monsieur?" she inquired. 

"I heard them say that he did not, " Garnache replied. "But it may wellbe that he had good reason. He may suspect more than he has written. "

"In that case, " she asked--and there was a wounded note in hervoice--"Why should a touch of fever keep him at La Rochette? Would atouch of fever keep you from the woman you loved, monsieur, if you knew, or even suspected, that she was in durance?"

"I do not know, mademoiselle. I am an old man who has never loved, andso it would be unfair of me to pass judgment upon lovers. That theythink not as other folk is notorious; their minds are for the timedisordered. "

Nevertheless he looked at her where she sat by the window, so gentle, solissome, so sweet, and so frail, and he had a shrewd notion that were heFlorimond de Condillac, whether he feared her in durance or not, not thefever, nor the plague itself should keep him for the best part of a weekat La Rochette within easy ride of her. 

She smiled gently at his words, and turned the conversation to thematter that imported most. 

"Tonight then, it is determined that we are to go?"

"At midnight or a little after. Be in readiness, mademoiselle, anddo not keep me waiting when I rap upon your door. Haste may be ofimportance. "

"You may count upon me, my friend, " she answered him, and stirred by asudden impulse she held out her hand. "You have been very good to me, Monsieur de Garnache. You have made life very different for me sinceyour coming. I had it in my mind to blame you once for your rashness inreturning alone. I was a little fool. You can never know the peace thathas come to me from having you at hand. The fears, the terrors thatpossessed me before you came have all been dispelled in this last weekthat you have been my sentry in two senses. "

He took the hand she held out to him, and looked down at her out of hisgrimy, disfigured face, an odd tenderness stirring him. He felt as mighthave felt a father towards his daughter--at least, so thought he then. 

"Child, " he answered her, "you overrate it. I have done no less than Icould do, no more than any other would have done. "

"Yet more than Florimond has done--and he my betrothed. A touch of feverwas excuse enough to keep him at La Rochette, whilst the peril of deathdid not suffice to deter you from coming hither. "

"You forget, mademoiselle, that, maybe, he does not know yourcircumstances. "

"Maybe he does not, " said she, with a half-sigh. Then she looked upinto his face again. "I am sad at the thought of going, monsieur, " shesurprised him by saying. 

"Sad?" he cried. Then he laughed. "But what can there be to sadden you?"

"This, monsieur: that after to-night it is odds I shall never see youmore. " She said it without hesitation and without coquetry, for herupbringing had been simple and natural in an atmosphere different farfrom that in which had been reared the courtly women he had known. "Youwill return to Paris and the great world, and I shall live out my lifein this, little corner of Dauphiny. You will forget me in the bustle ofyour career, monsieur; but I shall always hold your memory very dearand very gratefully. You are the only friend I have ever known since myfather died excepting Florimond, though it is so long since I have seenhim, and he never came to me in times of stress as you have done. "

"Mademoiselle, " he answered, touched despite himself more touched thanhe could have believed possible to his callous, world-worn nature--"youmake me very proud; you make me feel a little better than I am, for ifI have earned your regard and friendship, there must be some good in oldGarnache. Believe me, mademoiselle, I too shall not forget. "

And thereafter they remained a spell in silence, she sitting by thewindow, gazing out into the bright October sky, he standing by herchair, thoughtfully considering her brown head so gracefully set uponher little shoulders. A feeling came to him that was odd and unusual; hesought to interpret it, and he supposed it to mean that he wished thatat some time in the dim past he might have married some woman who wouldhave borne him for daughter such a one as this. 

CHAPTER XV. THE CONFERENCE

The matter that brought Monsieur de Tressan to Condillac--and broughthim in most fearful haste--was the matter of the courier who had thatday arrived at the chateau. 

News of it had reached the ears of my Lord Seneschal. His mind had beena prey to uneasiness concerning this business of rebellion in which hehad so rashly lent a hand, and he was anxious to know whence camethis courier and what news he brought. But for all his haste he hadpaused--remembering it was the Marquise he went to visit--to don thegorgeous yellow suit with the hanging sleeves which he had had fromParis, and the crimson sash he had bought at Taillemant's, all in thevery latest mode. 

Thus arrayed, his wig well curled and a clump of it caught in ribbon offlame-coloured silk on the left side, his sword hanging from belt andcarriages richly wrought with gold, and the general courtier-like effectrather marred by the heavy riding-boots which he would have liked toleave behind yet was constrained to wear, he presented himself beforethe Dowager, hiding his anxiety in a melting smile, and the latter inthe profoundest of bows. 

The graciousness of his reception overwhelmed him almost, for in hissupreme vanity he lacked the wit to see that this cordiality might bedictated by no more than the need they had of him at Condillac. A lackeyplaced a great chair for him by the fire that he might warm himselfafter his evening ride, and the Dowager, having ordered lights, satherself opposite him with the hearth between them. 

He simpered awhile and toyed with trivialities of speech before he gaveutterance to the matter that absorbed him. Then, at last, when they werealone, he loosed the question that was bubbling on his lips. 

"I hear a courier came to Condillac to-day. "

For answer she told him what he sought to learn, whence came thatcourier, and what the message that he brought. 

"And so, Monsieur de Tressan, " she ended, "my days at Condillac arenumbered. "

"Why so?" he asked, "since you say that Florimond has adopted towardsyou a friendly tone. Surely he would not drive his father's widowhence?"

She smiled at the fire in a dreamy, pensive manner. 

"No, " said she, "he would not drive me hence. He has offered me theshelter of Condillac for as long as it may pleasure me to make it myhome. "

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, rubbing his little fat hands and screwing thelittle features of his huge red face into the grotesque semblance of asmile. "What need to talk of going, then?"

"What need?" she echoed, in a voice dull and concentrated. "Do you askthat, Tressan? Do you think I should elect to live upon the charity ofthis man?"

For all that the Lord Seneschal may have been dull-witted, yet he hadwit enough to penetrate to the very marrow of her meaning. 

"You must hate Florimond very bitterly, " said he. She shrugged hershoulders. 

"I possess, I think, the faculty of feeling strongly. I can love well, monsieur, and I can hate well. It is one or the other with me. And ascordially as I love my own son Marius, as cordially do I detest thiscoxcomb Florimond. "

She expressed no reasons for her hatred of her late husband's elder son. Hers were not reasons that could easily be put into words. They werelittle reasons, trivial grains of offence which through long years hadaccumulated into a mountain. They had their beginning in the foolishgrievance that had its birth with her own son, when she had realizedthat but for that rosy-cheeked, well-grown boy borne to the Marquis byhis first wife, Marius would have been heir to Condillac. Her love ofher own child and her ambitions for him, her keen desire to see him fillan exalted position in the world, caused her a thousand times a day towish his half-brother dead. Yet Florimond had flourished and grown, andas he grew he manifested a character which, with all its imperfections, was more lovable than the nature of her own offspring. And their commonfather had never seen aught but the faults of Marius and the virtuesof Florimond. She had resented this, and Marius had resented it; andMarius, having inherited with his mother's beauty his mother's arrogant, dominant spirit, had returned with insolence such admonitions as fromtime to time his father gave him, and thus the breach had grown. Later, since he could not be heir to Condillac, the Marquise's eyes, greedy ofadvancement for him, had fallen covetously upon the richer La Vauvraye, whose lord had then no son, whose heiress was a little girl. 

By an alliance easy to compass, since the lords of Condillac and LaVauvraye were lifelong friends, Marius's fortunes might handsomelyhave been mended. Yet when she herself bore the suggestion of it tothe Marquis, he had seized upon it, approved it, but adopted it forFlorimond's benefit instead. 

Thereafter war had raged fiercely in the family of Condillac--a warbetween the Marquis and Florimond on the one side, and the Marquise andMarius on the other. And so bitterly was it waged that it was by the oldMarquis's suggestion that at last Florimond had gone upon his travels tosee the world and carry arms in foreign service. 

Her hopes that he would take his death, as was a common thing whenwarring, rose high--so high as to become almost assurance, a thing to bereckoned with. Florimond would return no more, and her son should fillthe place to which he was entitled by his beauty of person and the highmental gifts his doting mother saw in him. 

Yet the months grew into years, and at long intervals full of hope forthe Marquise news came of Florimond, and the news was ever that he waswell and thriving, gathering honours and drinking deep of life. 

And now, at last, when matters seemed to have been tumbled into her lapthat she might dispose of them as she listed; now, when in her anxietyto see her son supplant his step-brother in the possession of LaVauvraye--if not, perhaps, in that of Condillac as well she had donea rashness which might end in making her and Marius outlaws, newscame that this hated Florimond was at the door; tardily returned, yetreturned in time to overthrow her schemes and to make her son the pauperthat her husband's will had seemed to aim at rendering him. 

Her mind skimmed lightly over all these matters, seeking somewhere somewrong that should stand out stark and glaring, upon which she mightseize, and offer it to the Seneschal as an explanation of her hatred. But nowhere could she find the thing she sought. Her hatred had forfoundation a material too impalpable to be fashioned into words. Tressan's voice aroused her from her thoughts. 

"Have you laid no plans, madame?" he asked her. "It were surely amadness now to attempt to withstand the Marquis. "

"The Marquis? Ah yes--Florimond. " She sat forward out of the shadows inwhich her great chair enveloped her, and let candle and firelight playabout the matchless beauty of her perfect face. There was a flush uponit, the flush of battle; and she was about to tell the Seneschal thatnot while one stone of Condillac should stand upon another, not while agasp of breath remained in her frail body, would she surrender. Butshe checked her rashness. Well might it be that in the end she shouldabandon such a purpose. Tressan was ugly as a toad, the most absurd, ridiculous bridegroom that ever led woman to the altar. Yet rumourran that he was rich, and as a last resource, for the sake of hispossessions she might bring herself to endure his signal shortcomings. 

"I have taken no resolve as yet, " said she, in a wistful voice. "Ifounded hopes upon Marius which Marius threatens to frustrate. I think Ihad best resign myself to the poverty of my Touraine home. "

And then the Seneschal realized that the time was now. The opportunityhe might have sought in vain was almost thrust upon him. In the spirithe blessed Florimond for returning so opportunely; in the flesh he rosefrom the chair and, without more ado, he cast himself upon his kneesbefore the Dowager. He cast himself down, and the Dowager experienceda faint stirring of surprise that she heard no flop such as must attendthe violent falling of so fat a body. But the next instant, realizingthe purpose of his absurd posture, she shrank back with a faint gasp, and her face was mercifully blurred to his sight once more amid theshadows of her chair. Thus was he spared the look of utter loathing, ofunconquerable, irrepressible disgust that leapt into her countenance. 

His voice quivered with ridiculous emotion, his little fat red fingerstrembled as he outheld them in a theatrical gesture of supplication. 

"Never contemplate poverty, madame, until you have discarded me, " heimplored her. "Say but that you will, and you shall be lady of Tressan. All that I have would prove but poor adornment to a beauty such asyours, and I should shrink from offering it you, were it not that, withit all, I can offer you the fondest heart in France. Marquise--Clotilde, I cast myself humbly at your feet. Do with me as you will. I love you. "

By an effort she crushed down her loathing of him--a loathing that grewa hundredfold as she beheld him now transformed by his amorousness intothe semblance almost of a satyr--and listened to his foolish rantings. 

As Marquise de Condillac it hurt her pride to listen and not have himwhipped for his audacity; as a woman it insulted her. Yet the Marquiseand the woman she alike repressed. She would give him no answer--shecould not, so near was she to fainting with disdain of him--yet mustshe give him hope against the time when, should all else fail, she mighthave to swallow the bitter draught he was now holding to her lips. Soshe temporized. 

She controlled her voice into a tone of gentle sadness; she set a maskof sorrow upon her insolent face. 

"Monsieur, monsieur, " she sighed, and so far overcame her nausea as foran instant to touch his hand in a little gesture of caress, "you mustnot speak so to a widow of six months, nor must I listen. "

The quivering grew in his hands and voice; but no longer did they shakethrough fear of a rebuff: they trembled now in the eager strength of thehope he gathered from her words. She was so beautiful, so peerless, sonoble, so proud--and he so utterly unworthy--that naught but her plighthad given him courage to utter his proposal. And she answered him insuch terms!

"You give me hope, Marquise? If I come again--?"

She sighed, and her face, which was once more within the light, showed alook of sad inquiry. 

"If I thought that what you have said, you have said out of pity, because you fear lest my necessities should hurt me, I could give youno hope at all. I have my pride, mon ami. But if what you have saidyou would still have said though I had continued mistress of Condillac, then, Tressan, you may repeat it to me hereafter, at a season when I maylisten. "

His joy welled up and overflowed in him as overflows a river in time ofspate. 

He bent forward, caught her hand, and bore it to his lips. 

"Clotilde!" he cried, in a smothered voice; then the door opened, andMarius stepped into the long chamber. 

At the creaking sound of the opening door the Seneschal bestirredhimself to rise. Even the very young care not so to be surprised, how much less, then, a man well past the prime of life? He came uplaboriously--the more laboriously by virtue of his very efforts to showhimself still nimble in his mistress's eyes. Upon the intruder he turneda crimson, furious face, perspiration gleaming like varnish on brow andnose. At sight of Marius, who stood arrested, scowling villainously uponthe pair, the fire died suddenly from his glance. 

"Ah, my dear Marius, " said he, with a flourish and an air of beingmightily at his ease. But the young man's eyes went over and beyond himto rest in a look of scrutiny upon his mother. She had risen too, and hehad been in time to see the startled manner of her rising. In her cheeksthere was a guilty flush, but her eyes boldly met and threw back herson's regard. 

Marius came slowly down the room, and no word was spoken. The Seneschalcleared his throat with noisy nervousness. Madame stood hand on hip, theflush fading slowly, her glance resuming its habitual lazy insolence. Bythe fire Marius paused and kicked the logs into a blaze, regardless ofthe delicate fabric of his rosetted shoes. 

"Monsieur le Seneschal, " said madame calmly, "came to see us in thematter of the courier. "

"Ah!" said Marius, with an insolent lifting of his brows and a sidelonglook at Tressan; and Tressan registered in his heart a vow that when heshould have come to wed the mother, he would not forget to take paymentfor that glance from her pert son. 

"Monsieur le Comte will remain and sup with us before riding back toGrenoble, " she added. 

"Ah!" said he again, in the same tone. And that for the moment was allhe said. He remained by the fire, standing between them where hehad planted himself in the flesh, as if to symbolize the attitude heintended in the spirit. 

But one chance he had, before supper was laid, of a word alone with hismother, in her own closet. 

"Madame, " he said, his sternness mingling with alarm, "are you mad thatyou encourage the suit of this hedgehog Tressan?"

She looked him up and down with a deliberate eye, her lip curling alittle. 

"Surely, Marius, it is my own concern. "

"Not so, " he answered her, and his grasp fastened almost viciously onher wrist. "I think that it is mine as well. Mother, bethink you, " andhis tone changed to an imploring key, "bethink you what you would do!Would you--you--mate with such a thing as that?"

His emphasis of the pronoun was very eloquent. Not in all the words ofthe French language could he have told her better how high he placed herin his thoughts, how utterly she must fall, how unutterably be soiled byan alliance with Tressan. 

"I had hoped you would have saved me from it, Marius, " she answered him, her eyes seeming to gaze down into the depths of his. "At La Vauvraye Ihad hoped to live out my widowhood in tranquil dignity. But--" She lether arms fall sharply to her sides, and uttered a little sneering laugh. 

"But, mother, " he cried, "between the dignity of La Vauvraye and theindignity of Tressan, surely there is some middle course?"

"Aye, " she answered scornfully, "starvation on a dunghill inTouraine--or something near akin to it, for which I have no stomach. "

He released her wrist and stood with bent head, clenching andunclenching his long white hands, and she watched him, watching in himthe working of his proud and stubborn spirit. 

"Mother, " he cried at last, and the word sounded absurd between them, byso little did he seem the younger of the twain, "mother, you shall notdo it you must not!"

"You leave me little alternative--alas!" sighed she. "Had you been moreadroit you had been wed by now, Marius, and the future would give us noconcern. As it is, Florimond comes home, and we--" She spread her handsand thrust out her nether lip in a grimace that was almost ugly. Then:"Come, " she said briskly. "Supper is laid, and my Lord Seneschal will beawaiting us. "

And before he could reply she had swept past him and taken her waybelow. He followed gloomily, and in gloom sat he at table, neverheeding the reckless gaiety of the Seneschal and the forced mirth of theMarquise. He well understood the sort of tacit bargain that his motherhad made with him. She had seen her advantage in his loathing of theproposed union with Tressan, and she had used it to the full. Either hemust compel Valerie to wed him this side of Saturday or resign himselfto see his mother--his beautiful, peerless mother--married to this skinof lard that called itself a man. 

Living, he had never entertained for his father a son's respect, nor, dead, did he now reverence his memory as becomes a son. But in thathour, as he sat at table, facing this gross wooer of his mother's, hiseyes were raised to the portrait of the florid-visaged haughty Marquisde Condillac, where it looked down upon them from the panelled wall, andfrom his soul he offered up to that portrait of his dead sire an apologyfor the successor whom his widow destined him. 

He ate little, but drank great draughts, as men will when their moodis sullen and dejected, and the heat of the wine, warming his veins andlifting from him some of the gloom that had settled over him, lent himanon a certain recklessness very different from the manner of his sobermoments. 

Chancing suddenly to raise his eyes from the cup into which he had beengazing, absorbed as gazes a seer into his crystal, he caught on theSeneschal's lips so odious a smile, in the man's eyes so greedy, hatefula leer as he bent them on the Marquise, that he had much ado not toalter the expression of that flabby face by hurling at it the cup heheld. 

He curbed himself; he smiled sardonically upon the pair; and in thatmoment he swore that be the cost what it might, he would frustrate theunion of those two. His thoughts flew to Valerie, and the road they tookwas fouled with the mud of ugly deeds. A despair, grim at first, thenmocking, took possession of him. He loved Valerie to distraction. Lovedher for herself, apart from all worldly advantages that must accrue tohim from an alliance with her. His mother saw in that projected marriageno more than the acquisition of the lands of La Vauvraye, and she mayeven have thought that he himself saw no more. In that she was wrong;but because of it she may have been justified of her impatience with himat the tardiness, the very clumsiness with which he urged his suit. Howwas she to know that it was just the sincerity of his passion madehim clumsy? For like many another, normally glib, self-assured, andgraceful, Marius grew halting, shy, and clumsy only where he loved. 

But in the despair that took him now the quality of his passion seemedto change. Partly it was the wine, partly the sight of this otherlover--of whom there must be an end--whose very glance seemed to him aninsult to his mother. His imagination had taken fire that night, and ithad ripened him for any villainy. The Seneschal and the wine, betweenthem, had opened the floodgates of all that was evil in his nature, andthat evil thundered out in a great torrent that bid fair to sweep allbefore it. 

And suddenly, unexpectedly for the others, who were by now resigned tohis moody silence, the evil found expression. The Marquise had spokenof something--something of slight importance--that must be done beforeFlorimond returned. Abruptly Marius swung round in his seat to facehis mother. "Must this Florimond return?" he asked, and for all that heuttered no more words, so ample in their expression were those four thathe had uttered and the tone of them, that his meaning left little workto the imagination. 

Madame turned to stare at him, surprise ineffable in her glance--notat the thing that he suggested, but at the abruptness with which thesuggestion came. The cynical, sneering tone rang in her ears after thewords were spoken, and she looked in his face for a confirmation oftheir full purport. 

She observed the wine-flush on his cheek, the wine-glitter in his eye, and she remarked the slight smile on his lips and the cynical assumptionof nonchalance with which he fingered the jewel in his ear as hereturned her gaze. She beheld now in her son a man more purposeful thanshe had ever known before. 

A tense silence had followed his words, and the Lord Seneschal gapedat him, some of the colour fading from his plethoric countenance, suspecting as he did the true drift of Marius's suggestion. At last itwas madame who spoke--very softly, with a narrowing of the eyes. 

"Call Fortunio, " was all she said, but Marius understood full well thepurpose for which she would have Fortunio called. 

With a half-smile he rose, and going to the door he bade his page whowas idling in the anteroom go summon the captain. Then he paced slowlyback, not to the place he had lately occupied at table, but to thehearth, where he took his stand with his shoulders squared to theovermantel. 

Fortunio came, fair-haired and fresh-complexioned as a babe, his supple, not ungraceful figure tawdrily clad in showy clothes of poor materialthe worse for hard usage and spilt wine. The Countess bade him sit, andwith her own hands she poured a cup of Anjou for him. 

In some wonder, and, for all his ordinary self-possession, with a littleawkwardness, the captain did her bidding, and with an apologetic air hetook the seat she offered him. 

He drank this wine, and here was a spell of silence till Marius, grownimpatient, brutally put the thing for which the Marquise sought delicatewords. 

"We have sent for you, Fortunio, " said he, in a blustering tone, "toinquire of you what price you'd ask to cut the throat of my brother, theMarquis de Condillac. "

The Seneschal sank back in his chair with a gasp. The captain, a frownbetween his frank-seeming, wide-set eyes, started round to look at theboy. The business was by no means too strong for the ruffler's stomach, but the words in which it was conveyed to him most emphatically were. 

"Monsieur de Condillac, " said he, with an odd assumption of dignity, "Ithink you have mistaken your man. I am a soldier, not a cut-throat. "

"But yes, " the Marquise soothed him, throwing herself instantly into thebreach, and laying a long, slender hand upon the frayed green velvetof the captain's sleeve. "What my son means and what he says are vastlydifferent things. "

"It will sorely tax your wits, madame, " laughed Marius brutally, "tomake clear that difference. "

And then the Seneschal nervously cleared his throat and muttering thatit waxed late and he must be riding home, made shift to rise. Him, too, the Marquise at once subdued. She was not minded that he should go justyet. It might be useful to her hereafter to have had him present at thisconference, into which she meant to draw him until she should have madehim one with them, a party to their guilt. For the task she needed notover many words: just one or two and a melting glance or so, and therebellion in his bosom was quelled at once. 

But with the captain her wiles were not so readily successful. He had nohopes of winning her to wife--haply no desire, since he was not a manof very great ambitions. On the other hand, he had against him thevery worst record in France, and for all that he might embark upon thisbusiness under the auspices of the Lord Seneschal himself, he knew nothow far the Lord Seneschal might dare to go thereafter to save him froma hanging, should it come to that. 

He said as much in words. In a business of this kind, he knew fromexperience, the more difficulties he advanced, the better a bargainhe drove in the end; and if he was to be persuaded to risk his neck inthis, he should want good payment. But even for good payment on thisoccasion he was none too sure as yet that he would let himself bepersuaded. 

"Monsieur Fortunio, " the Marquise said, very softly, "heed not MonsieurMarius's words. Attend to me. The Marquis de Condillac, as no doubt youwill have learned for yourself, is lying at La Rochette. Now it happensthat he is noxious to us--let the reasons be what they may. We need afriend to put him out of our way. Will you be that friend?"

"You will observe, " sneered Marius, "how wide a difference there isbetween what the Marquise suggests and my own frank question of whatprice you would take to cut my brother's throat. "

"I observe no difference, which is what you would say, " Fortunioanswered truculently, his head well back, his brown eyes resentfulof offence--for none can be so resentful of imputed villainy as yourvillain who is thorough-paced. "And, " he concluded, "I return you thesame answer, madame--that I am no cut-throat. "

She repressed her anger at Marius's sneering interference, and made alittle gesture of dismay with her eloquent white hands. 

"But we do not ask you to cut a throat. "

"I have heard amiss, then, " said he, his insolence abating nothing. 

"You have heard aright, but you have understood amiss. There are otherways of doing these things. If it were but the cutting of a throat, should we have sent for you? There are a dozen in the garrison wouldhave sufficed for our purpose. "

"What is it, then, you need?" quoth he. 

"We want an affair contrived with all decency. The Marquis is at theSanglier Noir at La Rochette. You can have no difficulty in findinghim, and having found him, less difficulty still in giving or provokinginsult. "

"Excellent, " murmured Marius from the background. "It is such anenterprise as should please a ready swordsman of your calibre, Fortunio. "

"A duel?" quoth the fellow, and his insolence went out of him, thrustout by sheer dismay; his mouth fell open. A duel was another affairaltogether. "But, Sangdieu! what if he should slay me? Have you thoughtof that?"

"Slay you?" cried the Marquise, her eyes resting on his face with anexpression as of wonder at such a question. "You jest, Fortunio. "

"And he with the fever, " put in Marius, sneering. 

"Ah!" muttered Fortunio. "He has the fever? The fever is something. But--but--accidents will happen. "

"Florimond was ever an indifferent swordsman, " murmured Marius dreamily, as if communing with himself. 

The captain wheeled upon him once more. 

"Why, then, Monsieur Marius, " said he, "since that is so and you areskilled--as skilled as am I, or more--and he has a fever, where is theneed to hire me to the task?"

"Where?" echoed Marius. "What affair may that be of yours? We ask youto name a price on which you will do this thing. Have done withcounter-questions. "

Marius was skilled with the foils, as Fortunio said, but he cared notfor unbaited steel, and he was conscious of it, so that the captain'shalf-sneer had touched him on the raw. But he was foolish to take thattone in answer. There was a truculent, Southern pride in the rufflerwhich sprang immediately into life and which naught that they could saythereafter would stamp out. 

"Must I say again that you mistake your man?" was his retort, and ashe spoke he rose, as though to signify that the subject wearied him andthat his remaining to pursue it must be idle. "I am not of those towhom you can say: `I need such an one killed, name me the price at whichyou'll be his butcher. "'

The Marquise wrung her hands in pretty mimicry of despair, and pouredout soothing words, as one might pour oil upon stormy waters. TheSeneschal sat in stolid silence, a half-scared spectator of this oddscene, what time the Marquise talked and talked until she had broughtFortunio back to some measure of subjection. 

Such reasoning as she made use of she climaxed by an offer of no less asum than a hundred pistoles. The captain licked his lips and pulled athis mustachios. For all his vaunted scorn of being a butcher at a price, now that he heard the price he seemed not half so scornful. 

"Tell me again the thing that you need doing and the manner of it, " saidhe, as one who was moved to reconsider. She told him, and when she haddone he made a compromise. 

"If I go upon this business, madame, I go not alone. "

"Oh, as for that, " said Marius, "it shall be as you will. Take what menyou want with you. "

"And hang with them afterwards, maybe, " he sneered, his insolencereturning. "The hundred pistoles would avail me little then. Look you, Monsieur de Condillac, and you, madame, if I go, I'll need to take withme a better hostage than the whole garrison of this place. I'll need forshield some one who will see to it that he is not hurt himself, just asI shall see to it that he is hurt before I am. "

"What do you mean? Speak out, Fortunio, " the Marquise bade him. 

"I mean, madame, that I will go, not to do this thing, but to stand byand render help if help be needed. Let Monsieur de Condillac go, andI will go with him, and I will undertake to see to it that he returnsunhurt and that we leave the other stark. "

Both started, and the Seneschal leaned heavily upon the table. He wasnot, with all his faults, a man of blood, and this talk of butcheryturned him sick and faint. 

Vainly now did the Marquise seek to alter the captain's resolution; butin this she received a sudden check from Marius himself. He cut in uponher arguments to ask the captain:

"How can you promise so much? Do you mean that you and I must fall uponhim? You forget that he will have men about him. A duel is one thing, a rough-and-tumble another, and we shall fare none so well in this, I'mthinking. "

The captain closed one eye, and a leer of subtle cunning overspread hisface. 

"I've thought of that, " said he. "Neither a duel nor a rough-and-tumbledo I propose, but something between the two; something that shall seem aduel yet be a rough-and-tumble. "

"Explain yourself. "

"What further explanation does it ask? We come upon Monsieur le Marquiswhere his men are not. We penetrate, let us say, into his chamber. Iturn the key in the door. We are alone with him and you provoke him. Heis angry, and must fight you there and then. I am your friend; I mustfill the office of second for both sides. You engage, and I stand asideand let you fight it out. You say he is indifferently skilled with thesword, and, in addition, that he has a fever. Thus you should contriveto put your steel through him, and a duel it will have been. But if byluck or skill he should have you in danger, I shall be at hand to flickin my sword at the right moment and make an opening through which youmay send yours home. "

"Believe me it were better--" began the Dowager. But Marius, who of asudden was much taken with the notion, again broke in. 

"Are you to be depended upon to make no mistake, Fortunio?"

"Per Bacco!" swore the ruffler. "A mistake must cost me a hundredpistoles. I think you may depend upon me there. If I err at all, it willbe on the side of eagerness to see you make short work of him. You havemy answer now, monsieur. If we talk all night, you shall not move mefurther. But if my proposal suits you, I am your man. "

"And I yours, Fortunio, " answered Marius, and there was a ring almost ofexultation in his voice. 

The Dowager looked from one to the other, as if she were weighing themen and satisfying herself that Marius ran no risk. She put a questionor two to her son, another to the captain; then, seeming satisfied withwhat had been agreed, she nodded her head and told them they had best bestirring with the dawn. 

"You will have light enough by half-past six. Do not delay later intaking the road. And see that you are back here by nightfall; I shall beanxious till you are returned. "

She poured wine again for the captain, and Marius coming up to the tablefilled himself a glass, which he tossed off. The Marquise was speakingto Tressan. 

"Will you not drink to the success of the venture?" she asked him, in acoaxing tone, her eyes upon his own. "I think we are like to see theend of our troubles now, monsieur, and Marius shall be lord both ofCondillac and La Vauvraye. "

And the gross, foolish Seneschal, under the spell of her magnificenteyes, slowly raised his cup to his lips and drank to the success of thatmurderous business. Marius stood still, a frown between his eyes haledthither by the mention of La Vauvraye. He might be winning it, as hismother said, but he would have preferred to have won it differently. Then the frown was smoothed away; a sardonic smile replaced it; anothercup of wine he poured himself. Then, without word to any there, heturned on his heel and went from the room, a trifle unsteady in hisgait, yet with such lines of purposefulness in the way he bore himselfthat the three of them stared after him in dull surprise. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE UNEXPECTED

In her apartments in the Northern Tower Valerie had supped, and--tospare Monsieur de Garnache the full indignity of that part of theoffices he was charged with--she had herself removed the cloth and setthe things in the guard-room, where they might lie till morning. Whenthat was done--and despite her protests, Garnache had insisted uponlending a hand the Parisian reminded her that it was already afternine, and urged her to make such preparations as incumbed her for theirjourney. 

"My preparations are soon made, " she assured him with a smile. "I needbut what I may carry in a cloak. "

They fell to talking of their impending flight, and they laughedtogether at the discomfiture that would be the Dowager's and her son'swhen, in the morning, they came to discover the empty cage. From thatthey passed on to talk of Valerie herself, of her earlier life atLa Vauvraye, and later the conversation shifted to Garnache, and shequestioned him touching the warring he had seen in early youth, andafterwards asked him for particulars of Paris--that wonderful city whichto her mind was the only earthly parallel of Paradise--and of the lifeat Court. 

Thus in intimate talk did they while away the time of waiting, and inthe hour that sped they came, perhaps, to know more of each other thanthey had done hitherto. Intimate, indeed, had they unconsciously becomealready. Their singular position, locked together in that tower--aposition utterly impossible under any but the conditions that attendedit--had conduced to that good-fellowship, whilst the girl's trust anddependence upon the man, the man's observance of that trust, and hisdetermination to show her that it had not been misplaced, had done therest. 

But to-night they seemed to have drawn nearer in spirit to each other, and that, maybe, it was that prompted Valerie to sigh, and in her sweet, unthinking innocence to say again:

"I am truly sorry, Monsieur de Garnache, that our sojourn here is comingto an end. "

He was no coxcomb, and he set no false value on the words. He laughedfor answer, as he rejoined:

"Not so am I, mademoiselle. Nor shall I know peace of mind again untilthis ill-omened chateau is a good three leagues or so behind us. Sh!What was that?"

He came instantly to his feet, his face intent and serious. He had beensitting at his ease in an armchair, over the back of which he had tossedthe baldric from which his sword depended. The clang of the heavy doorbelow, striking the wall as it was pushed open, had reached his ears. 

"Can it be time already?" asked mademoiselle; yet a panic took her, andshe blenched a little. 

He shook his head. 

"Impossible, " said he; "it is not more than ten o'clock. Unless thatfool Arsenio has blundered--" He stopped. "Sh!" he whispered. "Some oneis coming here. "

And suddenly he realized the peril that might lie in being found thus inher company. It alarmed him more than did the visit itself, so unusualat this hour. He saw that he had not time to reach the guard-room;he would be caught in the act of coming forth, and that might beinterpreted by the Dowager or her son--if it should happen to be oneor the other of them--as a hurried act of flight such as guilt mightprompt. Perhaps he exaggerated the risk; but their fortunes at Condillachad reached a point where they must not be jeopardized by any chancehowever slight. 

"To your chamber, mademoiselle, " he whispered fearfully, and he pointedto the door of the inner room. "Lock yourself in. Quick! Sh!" And hesigned frantically to her to go silently. 

Swift and quietly as a mouse she glided from the room and softly closedthe door of her chamber and turned the key in a lock, which Garnache hadhad the foresight to keep well oiled. He breathed more freely when itwas done. 

A step sounded in the guard-room. He sank without a rustle into thechair from which he had risen, rested his head against the back of it, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and dissembled sleep. 

The steps came swiftly across the guard-room floor, soft, as of onelightly shod; and Garnache wondered was it the mother or the son, justas he wondered what this ill-come visitor might be seeking. 

The door of the antechamber was pushed gently open it had stoodajar--and under the lintel appeared the slender figure of Marius, stillin his brown velvet suit as Garnache last had seen him. He paused amoment to peer into the chamber. Then he stepped forward, frowning tobehold "Battista" so cosily ensconced. 

"Ola there!" he cried, and kicked the sentry's outstretched legs, themore speedily to wake him. "Is this the watch you keep?"

Garnache opened his eyes and stared a second dully at the disturberof his feigned slumbers. Then, as if being more fully awakened herecognized his master, he heaved himself suddenly to his feet and bowed. 

"Is this the watch you keep?" quoth Marius again, and Garnache, scanningthe youth's face with foolishly smiling eyes, noted the flush on hischeek, the odd glitter in his handsome eyes, and even caught a whiffof wine upon his breath. Alarm grew in Garnache's mind, but his facemaintained its foolish vacancy, its inane smile. He bowed again and, with a wave of the hands towards the inner chamber, "La damigella a la, " said he. 

For all that Marius had no Italian he understood the drift of thewords, assisted as they were by the man's expressive gesture. He sneeredcruelly. 

"It would be an ugly thing for you, my ugly friend, if she were not, "he answered. "Away with you. I shall call you when I need you. " And hepointed to the door. 

Garnache experienced some dismay, some fear even. He plied his wits, and he determined that he had best seem to apprehend from his gesturesMarius's meaning; but apprehend it in part only, and go no further thanthe other side of that door. 

He bowed, therefore, for the third time, and with another of his foolishgrins he shuffled out of the chamber, pulling the door after him, sothat Marius should not see how near at hand he stayed. 

Marius, without further heeding him, stepped to mademoiselle's door andrapped on a panel with brisk knuckles. 

"Who is there?" she inquired from within. 

"It is I--Marius. Open, I have something I must say to you. "

"Will it not keep till morning?"

"I shall be gone by then, " he answered impatiently, "and much dependsupon my seeing you ere I go. So open. Come!"

There followed a pause, and Garnache in the outer room set his teeth andprayed she might not anger Marius. He must be handled skillfully, lesttheir flight should be frustrated at the last moment. He prayed, too, that there might be no need for his intervention. That would indeed bethe end of all--a shipwreck within sight of harbour. He promised himselfthat he would not lightly intervene. For the rest this news of Marius'sintended departure filled him with a desire to know something of thejourney on which he was bound:

Slowly mademoiselle's door opened. White and timid she appeared. 

"What do you want, Marius?"

"Now and always and above all things the sight of you, Valerie, " saidhe, and the flushed cheek, the glittering eye, and wine-laden breathwere as plain to her as they had been to Garnache, and they filled herwith a deeper terror. Nevertheless she came forth at his bidding. 

"I see that you were not yet abed, " said he. "It is as well. We musthave a talk. " He set a chair for her and begged her to be seated; thenhe perched himself on the table, his hands gripping the edges of it oneither side of him, and he turned his eyes upon her. 

"Valerie, " he said slowly, "the Marquis de Condillac, my brother, is atLa Rochette. "

"He is coming home!" she cried, clasping her hands and feigning surprisein word and glance. 

Marius shook his head and smiled grimly. 

"No, " said he. "He is not coming home. That is--not unless you wish it. "

"Not unless I wish it? But naturally I wish it!"

"Then, Valerie, if you would have what you wish, so must I. If Florimondis ever to come to Condillac again, you must be my wife. "

He leaned towards her now, supported by his elbow, so that his face wasclose to hers, a deeper flush upon it, a brighter glitter in his blackeyes, his vinous breath enveloping and suffocating her. She shrank back, her hands locking themselves one in the other till the knuckles showedwhite. 

"What--what is it you mean?" she faltered. 

"No more than I have said; no less. If you love him well enough tosacrifice yourself, " and his lips curled sardonically at the word, "thenmarry me and save him from his doom. "

"What doom?" Her voice came mechanically, her lips seeming scarce tomove. 

He swung down from the table and stood before her. 

"I will tell you, " he said, in a voice very full of promise. "I loveyou, Valerie, above all else on earth or, I think, in heaven; and I'llnot yield you to him. Say 'No' to me now, and at daybreak I start for LaRochette to win you from him at point of sword. "

Despite her fears she could not repress a little smile of scorn. 

"Is that all?" said she. "Why, if you are so rash, it is yourself, assuredly, will be slain. "

He smiled tranquilly at that reflection upon his courage and his skill. 

"So might it befall if I went alone, " said he. She understood. Her eyesdilated with horror, with loathing of him. The angry words that sprangto her lips were not to be denied. 

"You cur, you cowardly assassin!" she blazed at him. "I might haveguessed that in some such cutthroat manner would your vaunt of winningme at the sword-point be accomplished. "

She watched the colour fade from his cheeks, and the ugly, livid huethat spread in its room to his very lips. Yet it did not daunt her. Shewas on her feet, confronting him ere he had time to speak again. Hereyes flashed, and her arm pointed quivering to the door. 

"Go!" she bade him, her voice harsh for once. "Out of my sight! Go! Doyour worst, so that you leave me. I'll hold no traffic with you. "

"Will you not?" said he, through setting teeth, and suddenly he caughtthe wrist of that outstretched arm. But she saw nothing of immediatedanger. The only danger that she knew was the danger that threatenedFlorimond, and little did that matter since at midnight she was toleave Condillac to reach La Rochette in time to warn her betrothed. Theknowledge gave her confidence and an added courage. 

"You have offered me your bargain, " she told him. "You have named yourprice and you have heard my refusal. Now go. "

"Not yet awhile, " said he, in a voice so odiously sweet that Garnachecaught his breath. 

He drew her towards him. Despite her wild struggles he held her fastagainst his breast. Do what she would, he rained his hot kisses on herface and hair, till at last, freeing a hand, she smote him with all hermight across the face. 

He let her go then. He fell back with an oath, a patch of fingermarksshowing red on his white countenance. 

"That blow has killed Florimond de Condillac, " he told her viciously. "He dies at noon to-morrow. Ponder it, my pretty. "

"I care not what you do so that you leave me, " she answered defiantly, restraining by a brave effort the tears of angry distress that welledup from her stricken heart. And no less stricken, no less angry wasGarnache where he listened. It was by an effort that he had restrainedhimself from bursting in upon them when Marius had seized her. Thereflection that were he to do so all would irretrievably be ruined alonehad stayed him. 

Marius eyed the girl a moment, his face distorted by the rage that wasin him. 

"By God!" he swore, "if I cannot have your love, I'll give you causeenough to hate me. "

"Already have you done that most thoroughly, " said she. And Garnachecursed this pertness of hers which was serving to dare him on. 

The next moment there broke from her a startled cry. Marius had seizedher again and was crushing her frail body in his arms. 

"I shall kiss your lips before I go, ma mie, " said he, his voice thicknow with a passion that was not all of anger. And then, while he stillstruggled to have his way with her, a pair of arms took him about thewaist like hoops of steel. 

In his surprise he let her free, and in that moment he was swung backand round and cast a good six paces down the room. 

He came to a standstill by the table, at which he clutched to savehimself from falling, and turned bewildered, furious eyes upon"Battista, " by whom he now dimly realized that he had been assailed. 

Garnache's senses had all left him in that moment when Valerie had criedout. He cast discretion to the winds; reason went out of him, and onlyblind anger remained to drive him into immediate action. And as suddenlyas that flood of rage had leaped, as suddenly did it ebb now that hefound himself face to face with the outraged Condillac and began tounderstand the magnitude of the folly he had committed. 

Everything was lost now, utterly and irretrievably--lost as a dozenother fine emprises had been by his sudden and ungoverned frenzy. God!What a fool he was! What a cursed, drivelling fool! What, after all, wasa kiss or two, compared with all the evil that might now result from hisinterference? Haply Marius would have taken them and departed, and atmidnight they would have been free to go from Condillac. 

The future would not have been lacking in opportunities to seek out andkill Marius for that insult. 

Why could he not have left the matter to the future? But now, withFlorimond to be murdered on the morrow at La Rochette, himself likelyto be murdered within the hour at Condillac, Valerie was at their mercyutterly. 

Wildly and vainly did he strive even then to cover up the foolish thingthat he had done. He bowed apologetically to Marius; he waved his handsand filled the air with Italian phrases, frenziedly uttered, as if bythe very vigour of them he sought to drive explanation into his master'sbrain. Marius watched and listened, but his rage nowise abated; it grew, instead, as if that farrago of a language he did not understand werebut an added insult. An oath was all he uttered. Then he swung roundand caught Garnache's sword from the chair beside him, where it stillrested, and Garnache in that moment cursed the oversight. Whippingthe long, keen blade from its sheath, Marius bore down upon the rashmeddler. 

"Par Dieu!" he swore between his teeth. "We'll see the colour of yourdirty blood, you that lay hands upon a gentleman. "

But before he could send home the weapon, before Garnache could move todefend himself, Valerie had slipped between them. Marius looked intoher white, determined face, and was smitten with surprise. What was thishind to her that she should interfere at the risk of taking the swordherself?

Then a slow smile spread upon his face. He was smarting still underher disdain and resistance, as well as under a certain sense of thediscomfiture this fellow had put upon him. He saw a way to hurt her, toabase her pride, and cut her to the very soul with shame. 

"You are singularly concerned in this man's life, " said he, an odiousundercurrent of meaning in his voice. 

"I would not have you murder him, " she answered, "for doing no more thanmadame your mother bade him. "

"I make no doubt he has proved a very excellent guard, " he sneered. 

Even now all might have been well. With that insult Marius mightconsider that he had taken payment for the discomfiture he had suffered. He might have bethought him that, perhaps, as she said, "Battista"had done no more than observe the orders he had received--a trifleexcessively, maybe, yet faithfully nevertheless. Thinking thus, he mighteven have been content to go his ways and take his fill of vengeance byslaying Florimond upon the morrow. But Garnache's rash temper, risinganew, tore that last flimsy chance to shreds. 

The insult that mademoiselle might overlook might even not have fullyunderstood--set him afire with indignation for her sake. He forgot hisrole, forgot even that he had no French. 

"Mademoiselle, " he cried, and she gasped in her affright at this ruinousindiscretion, "I beg that you will stand aside. " His voice was low andthreatening, but his words were woefully distinct. 

"Par la mort Dieu!" swore Marius, taken utterly aback. "What may yourname be--you who hitherto have had no French?"

Almost thrusting mademoiselle aside, Garnache stood out to face him, theflush of hot anger showing through the dye on his cheeks. 

"My name, " said he, "is Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache, and mybusiness now to make an end of one at least of this obscene brood ofCondillac. "

And, without more ado, he caught up a chair and held it before him inreadiness to receive the other's onslaught. 

But Marius hung back an instant--at first in sheer surprise, later infear. He had some knowledge of the fellow's methods. Even the sword hewielded gave him little confidence opposed to Garnache with a chair. Hemust have help. His eyes sought the door, measuring the distance. Ere hecould reach it Garnache would cut him off. There was nothing for itbut to attempt to drive the Parisian back. And so with a sudden rush headvanced to the attack. Garnache fell back and raised his chair, and inthat instant mademoiselle once more intervened between them. 

"Stand aside, mademoiselle, " cried Garnache, who now, grown cool, as washis way when once he was engaged, saw clearly through the purpose formedby Marius. "Stand aside, or we shall have him giving the alarm. "

He leapt clear of her to stop Marius's sudden rush for the door. On thevery threshold the young man was forced to turn and defend himself, lesthis brains be dashed out by that ponderous weapon Garnache was handlingwith a rare facility. But the mischief was done, in that he had reachedthe threshold. Backing, he defended himself and gained the anteroom. Garnache followed, but the clumsy chair was defensive rather thanoffensive, and Marius's sword meanwhile darted above it and below it, forcing him to keep a certain distance. 

And now Marius raised his voice and shouted with all the power of hislungs:

"To me! To me! Fortunio! Abdon! To me, you dogs! I am beset. "

From the courtyard below rose an echo of his words, repeated in a shoutby the sentinel, who had overheard them, and they caught the swift fallof the fellow's feet as he ran for help. Furious, picturing to himselfhow the alarm would spread like a conflagration through the chateau, cursing his headstrong folly yet determined that Marius at least shouldnot escape him, Garnache put forth his energies to hinder him fromgaining the door that opened on to the stairs. From the doorway of theantechamber mademoiselle, with a white face and terrified eyes, watchedthe unequal combat and heard the shouts for help. Anon despair mightwhelm her at the thought of how they had lost their opportunity ofescaping; but for the present she had no thought save for the life ofthat brave man who was defending himself with an unwieldy chair. 

Garnache leapt suddenly aside to take his opponent in the flank andthus turn him from his backward progress towards the outer door. Themanoeuvre succeeded, and gradually, always defending himself, Garnachecircled farther round him until he was between Marius and the threshold. 

And now there came a sound of running feet on the uneven stones of thecourtyard. Light gleamed on the staircase, and breathless voices werewafted up to the two men. Garnache bethought him that his last hour wasassuredly at hand. Well, if he must take his death, he might as welltake it here upon Marius's sword as upon another's. So he would riskit for the sake of leaving upon Marius some token by which he mightremember him. He swung his chair aloft, uncovering himself for a second. The young man's sword darted in like a shaft of light. Nimbly Garnachestepped aside to avoid it, and moved nearer his opponent. Down crashedthe chair, and down went Marius, stunned and bleeding, under itsterrific blow. The sword clattered from his hand and rolled, with apendulum-like movement, to the feet of Garnache. 

The Parisian flung aside his chair and stooped to seize that verywelcome blade. He rose, grasping the hilt and gathering confidence fromthe touch of that excellently balanced weapon, and he swung round evenas Fortunio and two of his braves appeared in the doorway. 

CHAPTER XVII. HOW MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LEFT CONDILLAC

Never was there a man with a better stomach for a fight than Martin deGarnache, nor did he stop to consider that here his appetite in thatdirection was likely to be indulged to a surfeit. The sight of thosethree men opposing him, swords drawn and Fortunio armed in additionwith a dagger, drove from his mind every other thought, every otherconsideration but that of the impending battle. 

He fell on guard to receive their onslaught, his eyes alert, his lipstight set, his knees like springs of steel, slightly flexed to supporthis well-poised body. 

But they paused a moment in the extremity of their surprise, andFortunio called to him in Italian to know the meaning of this attitudeof his as well as that of Marius, who lay huddled where he had fallen. 

Garnache, reckless now, disdaining further subterfuge nor seeking tohave recourse to subtleties that could avail him nothing, retorted inFrench with the announcement of his true name. At that, perceiving thathere was some deep treachery at work, they hesitated no longer. 

Led by Fortunio they attacked him, and the din they made in the next fewminutes with their heavy breathing, their frequent oaths, their stampingand springing this way and that, and, ringing above all, the clash andclatter of sword on sword, filled the chamber and could be heard in thecourtyard below. 

Minutes sped, yet they gained no advantage on this single man; not one, but a dozen swords did he appear to wield, so rapid were his passes, soubiquitous his point. Had he but stood his ground there might have beena speedy end to him, but he retreated slowly towards the door of theantechamber. Valerie still stood there, watching with fearful eyes andbated breath that tremendous struggle which at any moment she expectedto see terminate in the death of her only friend. 

In her way she was helping Garnache, though she little realized it. Thesix tapers in the candle-branch she held aloft afforded the only lightfor that stormy scene, and that light was in the eyes of Garnache'sassailants, showing him their faces yet leaving his own in shadow. 

He fell back steadily towards that door. He could not see it; but therewas not the need. He knew that it was in a direct line with the onethat opened upon the stairs, and by the latter he steered his backwardcourse. His aim was to gain the antechamber, although they guessed itnot, thinking that he did but retreat through inability to stand hisground. His reasons were that here in this guardroom the best he coulddo would be to put his back to the wall, where he might pick off one ortwo before they made an end of him. The place was too bare to suithis urgent, fearful need. Within the inner room there was furniture tospare, with which he might contrive to hamper his opponents and givethem such a lusty fight as would live in the memory of those who mightsurvive it for as long as they should chance to live thereafter. 

He had no thought of perishing himself, although, to any less concerned, his death, sooner or later, must seem inevitable--the only possibleconclusion to this affray, taken as he was. His mind was concerned onlywith this fight; his business to kill, and not himself to be slain. Heknew that presently others would come to support these three. Already, perhaps, they were on their way, and he husbanded his strength againsttheir coming. He was proudly conscious of his own superior skill, forhe had studied the art of fence in Italy--its home--during his earlieryears, and there was no trick of sword-play with which he was notacquainted, no ruse of service in a rough-and-tumble in which he wasunversed. He was proudly conscious, too, of his supple strength, hisendurance, and his great length of reach, and upon all these he countedto help him make a decent fight. 

Valerie, watching him, guessed his purpose to be the gaining of theinner chamber, the crossing of the threshold on which she was standing. She drew back a pace or two, almost mechanically, to give him room. Themovement went near to costing him his life. The light no longer fallingso pitilessly upon Fortunio's eyes, the captain saw more clearly thanhitherto, and shot a swift, deadly stroke straight at the region ofGarnache's heart. The Parisian leapt back when it was within an inch ofhis breast; one of the bravoes followed up, springing a pace in advanceof his companions and lengthening his arm in a powerful lunge. Garnachecaught the blade almost on his hilt, and by the slightest turn ofthe wrist made a simultaneous presentment of his point at the other'soutstretched throat. It took the fellow just above the Adam's apple, andwith a horrid, gurgling cry he sank, stretched as he still was in theattitude of that murderous lunge that had proved fatal only to himself. 

Garnache had come on guard again upon the instant. Yet in the briefestof seconds during which his sword had been about its work of death, Fortunio's rapier came at him a second time. He beat the blade asidewith his bare left hand and stopped with his point the rush of theother bravo. Then he leapt back again, and his leap brought him tothe threshold of the anteroom. He retreated quickly a pace, and thenanother. He was a sword's length within the chamber, and now he stood, firm as a rock and engaged Fortunio's blade which had followed himthrough the doorway. But he was more at his ease. The doorway wasnarrow. Two men abreast could not beset him, since one must cumber themovements of the other. If they came at him one at a time, he felt thathe could continue that fight till morning, should there still by then beany left to face him. 

A wild exultation took him, an insane desire to laugh. Surelywas sword-play the merriest game that was ever devised for man'sentertainment. He straightened his arm, and his steel went out like astreak of lightning. But for the dagger on which he caught its edge, the blade had assuredly pierced the captain's heart. And now, fightingstill, Garnache called to Valerie. He had need of her assistance to makehis preparations ere others came. 

"Set down your tapers, mademoiselle, " he bade her, "on the mantel shelfat my back. Place the other candle branch there too. "

Swiftly, yet with half-swimming senses, everything dim to her as to onein a nightmare, she ran to do his bidding; and now the light placed soat his back, gave him over his opponents the same slight advantage thathe had enjoyed before. In brisk tones he issued his fresh orders. 

"Can you move the table, mademoiselle?" he asked her. "Try to drag ithere, to the wall on my left, as close to the door as you can bring it. "

"I will try, monsieur, " she panted through dry lips; and again she movedto do his bidding. Quickened by the need there was, her limbs, whichawhile ago had seemed on the point of refusing their office, appeared togather more than ordinary strength. She was unconsciously sobbing in herpassionate anxiety to render him what help was possible. Frenziedly shecaught at the heavy oaken table, and began to drag it across the room asGarnache had begged her. And now, Fortunio seeing what was toward, andguessing Garnache's intentions, sought by a rush to force his way intothe Chamber. But Garnache was ready for him. There was a harsh grind ofsteel on steel, culminating in a resounding lest, and Fortunio was backin the guard-room, whither he had leapt to save his skin. A pause fellat that, and Garnache lowered his point to rest his arm until theyshould again come at him. From beyond the doorway the captain calledupon him to yield. He took the summons as an insult, and flew into amomentary passion. 

"Yield?" he roared. "Yield to you, you cut-throat scum? You shall havemy sword if you will come for it, but you shall have it in your throat. "

Angered in his turn, Fortunio inclined his head to his companion's ear, issuing an order. In obedience to it, it was the bravo now who advancedand engaged Garnache. Suddenly he dropped on to his knees, and over hishead Garnache found his blade suddenly opposed by Fortunio's. It was aclever trick, and it all but did Garnache's business then. Yet togetherwith the surprise of it there came to him the understanding of what wasintended. Under his guard the kneeling man's sword was to be thrust upinto his vitals. As a cry of alarm broke from mademoiselle, he leaptaside and towards the wall, where he was covered from Fortunio's weapon, and turning suddenly he passed his sword from side to side through thebody of the kneeling mercenary. 

The whole thing he had performed mechanically, more by instinct thanby reason; and when it was done, and the tables were thus effectivelyturned upon his assailants, he scarcely realized how he had accomplishedit. 

The man's body cumbered now the doorway, and behind him Fortunio stood, never daring to advance lest a thrust of that sword which he could notsee--Garnache still standing close against the wall--should serve himlikewise. 

Garnache leaned there, in that friendly shelter, to breathe, and hesmiled grimly under cover of his mustache. So long as he had to dealwith a single assailant he saw no need to move from so excellent aposition. Close beside him, leaning heavily against the table she haddragged thus far, stood Valerie, her face livid as death, her heartsick within her at the horror inspired her by that thing lying on thethreshold. She could not take her eyes from the crimson stain thatspread slowly on the floor, coming from under that limply huddled massof arms and legs. 

"Do not look, mademoiselle, " Garnache implored her softly. "Be brave, child; try to be brave. "

She sought to brace her flagging courage, and by an effort she avertedher eyes from that horrid heap and fixed them upon Garnache's calm, intrepid face. The sight of his quietly watchful eyes, his grimlysmiling lips, seemed to infuse courage into her anew. 

"I have the table, monsieur, " she told him. "I can bring it no nearer tothe wall. "

He understood that this was not because her courage or her strengthmight be exhausted, but because he now occupied the spot where he hadbidden her place it. He motioned her away, and when she had moved hedarted suddenly and swiftly aside and caught the table, his sword stillfast in his two first fingers, which he had locked over the quillons. He had pushed its massive weight halfway across the door before Fortuniograsped the situation. Instantly the captain sought to take advantage ofit, thinking to catch Garnache unawares. But no sooner did he show hisnose inside the doorpost than Garnache's sword flashed before his eyes, driving him back with a bloody furrow in his cheek. 

"Have a care, Monsieur le Capitaine, " Garnache mocked him. "Had you comean inch farther it might have been the death of you. "

A clatter of steps sounded upon the stairs, and the Parisian bent oncemore to his task, and thrust the table across the open doorway. He had amoment's respite now, for Fortunio stung--though lightly was not likelyto come again until he had others to support him. And while the otherscame, while the hum of their voices rose higher, and finally their stepsclattered over the bare boards of the guard-room floor, Garnache hadcaught up and flung a chair under the table to protect him from anattack from below, while he had piled another on top to increase andfurther strengthen the barricade. 

Valerie watched him agonizedly, leaning now against the wall, her handspressed across her bosom, as if to keep down its tempestuous heaving. Yet her anguish was tempered by a great wonder and a great admiration ofthis man who could keep such calm eyes and such smiling lips in the faceof the dreadful odds by which he was beset, in the face of the certaindeath that must ultimately reach him before he was many minutes older. And in her imagination she conjured up a picture of him lying there tornby their angry swords and drenched in blood, his life gone out of him, his brave spirit, quenched for ever--and all for her unworthy sake. Because she little, worthless thing that she was--would not marryas they listed, this fine, chivalrous soul was to be driven from itsstalwart body. 

An agony of grief took her now, and she fell once more to those awfulsobs that awhile ago had shaken her. She had refused to marry Mariusthat Florimond's life should be spared, knowing that before Marius couldreach him she herself would have warned her betrothed. Yet even had thatcircumstance not existed, she was sure that still she would have refusedto do the will of Marius. But equally sure was she that she would not sorefuse him were he now to offer as the price of her compliance the lifeof Garnache, which she accounted irrevocably doomed. 

Suddenly his steady, soothing voice penetrated her anguished musings. 

"Calm yourself, mademoiselle; all is far, from lost as yet. "

She thought that he but spoke so to comfort her; she did not follow theworking of his warlike mind, concentrated entirely upon the businessof the moment, with little thought--or care, for that matter--for whatmight betide anon. Yet she made an effort to repress her sobs. Shewould be brave, if only to show herself worthy of the companionship andfriendship of so brave a man. 

Across his barricade he peered into the outer room to ascertain withwhat fresh opponents he might have to reckon, and he was surprised tosee but four men standing by Fortunio, whilst behind them among thethicker shadows, he dimly made out a woman's figure and, beside her, another man who was short and squat. 

He bethought him that the hour, and the circumstance that most of themercenaries would be in their beds, accounted for the reinforcement notbeing greater. 

The woman moved forward, and he saw as he had suspected, that it was theDowager herself. The squat figure beside her, moving with her into theshaft of light that fell from the doorway Garnache defended, revealedto him the features of Monsieur de Tressan. If any doubt he had stillentertained concerning the Seneschal's loyalty, that doubt was nowdispelled. 

And now the Dowager uttered a sudden cry of fear. She had caught sightof the fallen Marius, and she hurried to his side. Tressan sped afterher and between them they raised the boy and helped him to a chair, where he now sat, passing a heavy hand across his no doubt aching brow. Clearly he was recovering, from which Garnache opined with regret thathis blow had been too light. The Dowager turned to Fortunio, who hadapproached her, and her eyes seemed to take fire at something that hetold her. 

"Garnache?" the Parisian heard her say, and he saw Fortunio jerk histhumb in the direction of the barricade. 

She appeared to forget her son; she stepped suddenly from his side, andpeered through the doorway at the stalwart figure of Garnache, dimly tobe seen through the pile of furniture that protected him to the heightof his breast. No word said she to the Parisian. She stood regarding hima moment with lips compressed and a white, startled, angry face. Then:

"It was by Marius's contrivance that he was placed sentry over thegirl, " he heard her tell Fortunio, and he thought she sneered. 

She looked at the two bodies on the floor, one almost at her feet, theother just inside the doorway, now almost hidden in the shadows of thetable. Then she issued her commands to the men, and fiercely she badethem pull down that barricade and take the dog alive. 

But before they could move to do her bidding, Garnache's voice rangimperatively through the chamber. 

"A word with you ere they begin, Monsieur de Tressan, " he shouted, andsuch was the note of command he assumed that the men stood arrested, looking to the Dowager for fresh orders. Tressan changed colour, forall that there was surely naught to fear, and he fingered his beardperplexedly, looking to the Marquise for direction. She flashed him aglance, lifted one shoulder disdainfully, and to the men:

"Fetch him out, " said she, and she pointed to Garnache. But againGarnache stayed them. 

"Monsieur de Tressan, " he called impressively, "to your dying day--andthat will be none so distant--shall you regret it if you do not hearme. "

The Seneschal was stirred by those words and the half-threat, half-warning; they seemed to cover. He paused a moment, and this timehis eyes avoided the Marquise's. At last, taking a step forward, "Knave, " said he, "I do not know you. "

"You know me well enough. You have heard my name. I am Martin MarieRigobert de Garnache, Her Majesty's emissary into Dauphiny to procurethe enlargement of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye from the Chateau deCondillac, where she is detained by force and for the serving ofunscrupulous ends. Now you know me and my quality. "

The Dowager stamped her foot. 

"Fetch him out!" she commanded harshly. 

"Hear me first, Monsieur le Seneschal, or it will be the worse foryou. " And the Seneschal, moved by that confident promise of evil, threwhimself before the men-at-arms. 

"A moment, I beseech you, Marquise, " he cried, and the men, seeing hisearnestness and knowing his quality, stood undecided, buffeted as theywere between his will and the Marquise's. "What have you to say to me?"Tressan demanded, seeking to render arrogant his tone. 

"This: That my servant knows where I am, and that should I fail within avery few days to come forth safe and sound from Condillac to rejoinhim, he is to ride to Paris with certain letters I have given him. Thoseletters incriminate you to the full in this infamous matter here atCondillac. I have set forth in them how you refused me help, how youignored the Queen's commands of which I was the bearer; and should it beproved, in addition, that through your treachery and insubordination mylife has been lost, I promise you that nothing in all this world willsave you from a hanging. "

"Never listen, monsieur, " cried the Dowager, seeing Tressan start backlike a man in sudden fear. "It is no more than the ruse of a desperateman. "

"Heed me or not, at your choice, " Garnache retorted, addressing himselfever to Tressan. "You have had your warning. I little thought to see youhere to-night. But seeing you confirms my worst suspicions, and if Iam to die, I can die easy in my conscience at the thought that insacrificing you to Her Majesty's wrath I have certainly not sacrificedan innocent man. "

"Madame--" the Seneschal began, turning to the Dowager. But she broke inimpatiently upon his intended words, upon the prayer that bubbled to hislips that she should pause a while ere she made an end of this Parisian. 

"Monsieur, " said she, "you may bargain with him when he is taken. Wewill have him alive. Go in, " she bade her men, her voice so resolute nowthat none dared tarry longer. "Fetch the knave out--alive. "

Garnache smiled at mademoiselle as the words were uttered. 

"They want me alive, " said he. "That is a hopeful state of things. Bearup, child; I may need your help ere we are through. "

"You shall find me ready, monsieur, " she assured him for all hertremors. He looked at the pale face, composed now by an effort of herwill, and at the beautiful hazel eyes which strove to meet his with calmand to reflect his smile, and he marvelled at her courage as much as didshe at his. 

Then the assault began, and he could have laughed at the way in whicha couple of those cut-throats--neither wishing to have the honour ofmeeting him singly--hindered each other by seeking to attack him atonce. 

At last the Dowager commanded one of them to go in. The fellow came, and he was driven back by the sword that darted at him from above thebarricade. 

There matters might have come to a deadlock, but that Fortunio cameforward with one of his men to repeat the tactics which had cost hima life already. His fellow went down on his knees, and drove his swordunder the table and through the frame of the chair, seeking to prickGarnache in the legs. Simultaneously the captain laid hold of an armof the chair above and sought to engage Garnache across it. The rusesucceeded to the extent of compelling the Parisian to retreat. The tableseemed likely to be his undoing instead of helping him. He dropped likelightning to one knee, seeking to force the fellow out from underneath. But the obstacles which should have hindered his assailants hinderedGarnache even more at this juncture. In that instant Fortunio whippedthe chair from the table-top, and flung it forward. One of its legscaught Garnache on the sword arm, deadening it for a second. The swordfell from his hand, and Valerie shrieked aloud, thinking the battleat an end. But the next moment he was on his feet, his rapier firmlygripped once more, for all that his arm still felt a trifle numbed. Asseconds passed the numbness wore away, but before that had taken placethe table had been thrust forward, and the man beneath it had made itimpossible for Garnache to hinder this. Suddenly he called to Valerie. 

"A cloak, mademoiselle! Get me a cloak!" he begged. And she, stemmingher fears once more, ran to do his bidding. 

She caught up a cloak that lay on a chair by the door of herbed-chamber, and brought it to him. He twisted it twice round his leftarm, letting its folds hang loose, and advanced again to try conclusionswith the gentleman underneath. He cast the garment so that it enmeshedthe sword when next it was advanced. Stepping briskly aside, he was upto the table, and his busy blade drove back the man who assailed himacross it. He threw his weight against it, and thrust it back till itwas jammed hard once more against the doorposts, leaving the chair athis very feet. The man beneath had recovered his sword by this, andagain he sought to use it. That was the end of him. Again Garnacheenmeshed it, kicked away the chair, or, rather, thrust it aside with hisfoot, stooped suddenly, and driving his blade under the table felt itsink into the body of his tormentor. 

There was a groan and a spluttering cough, and then before Garnachecould recover he heard mademoiselle crying out to him to beware. Thetable was thrust suddenly forward almost on top of him; its edge caughthis left shoulder, and sent him back a full yard, sprawling upon theground. 

To rise again, gasping for air--for the fall had shaken him--was thework of an instant. But in that instant Fortunio had thrust the tableclear of the doorway, and his men were pouring into the room. 

They came at Garnache in a body, with wild shouts and fierce mockery, and he hurriedly fell on guard and gave way before them until hisshoulders were against the wainscot and he had at least the assurancethat none could take him in the rear. Three blades engaged his own. Fortunio had come no farther than the doorway, where he stood his torncheek drenched in blood, watching the scene the Marquise beside him, andTressan standing just behind them, very pale and scared. 

Yet Garnache's first thought even in that moment of dire peril was forValerie. He would spare her the sight that must before many moments bespread to view within that shambles. 

"To your chamber, mademoiselle, " he cried to her. "You hinder me, " headded by way of compelling her obedience. She did his bidding, but onlyin part. No farther went she than the doorway of her room, where sheremained standing, watching the fray as earlier she had stood andwatched it from the door of the antechamber. 

Suddenly she was moved by inspiration. He had gained an advantagebefore, by retreating through a doorway into an inner room. Might he notdo the same again, and be in better case if he were to retreat now toher own chamber? Impulsively she called to him. 

"In here, Monsieur de Garnache. In here. "

The Marquise looked across at her, and smiled in mockery. Garnache wastoo well occupied, she thought, to attempt any such rashness. If he butdared remove his shoulders from the wall there would be a speedier endto him than as things were. 

Not so, however, thought Garnache. The cloak twisted about his leftarm gave him some advantage, and he used it to the full. He flickedthe slack of it in the face of one, and followed it up by stabbing thefellow in the stomach before he could recover guard, whilst with anotherwave of that cloak he enmeshed the sword that shot readily into theopening he had left. 

Madame cursed, and Fortunio echoed her imprecations. The Seneschalgasped, his fears lost in amazement at so much valour and dexterity. 

Garnache swung away from the wall now, and set his back to mademoiselle, determined to act upon her advice. But even in that moment he askedhimself for the first time since the commencement of that carnage--towhat purpose? His arms were growing heavy with fatigue, his mouth wasparched, and great beads of perspiration stood upon his brow. Soon hewould be spent, and they would not fail to take a very full advantage ofit. 

Hitherto his mind had been taken up with the battle only, and if hehad thought of retreating, it was but to the end that he might gain aposition of some vantage. Now, conscious of his growing fatigue, histhoughts turned them at last to the consideration of flight. Was thereno way out of it? Must he kill every man in Condillac before he couldhope to escape?

Whimsically, and almost mechanically, he set himself, in his mind, to count the men. There were twenty mercenaries all told, excludingFortunio and himself. On Arsenio he might rely not to attack him, perhaps even to come to his assistance at the finish. That leftnineteen. Four he had already either killed outright or effectivelydisabled; so that fifteen remained him. The task of dealing with thoseother fifteen was utterly beyond him. Presently, no doubt, the two nowopposing him would be reinforced by others. So that if any possible wayout existed, he had best set about finding it at once. 

He wondered could he cut down these two, make an end of Fortunio, and, running for it, attempt to escape through the postern before the rest ofthe garrison had time to come up with him or guess his purpose. But thenotion was too wild, its accomplishment too impossible. 

He was fighting now with his back to mademoiselle and his face to thetall window, through the leaded panes of which he caught the distortedshape of a crescent moon. Suddenly the idea came to him. Through thatwindow must lie his way. It was a good fifty feet above the moat, heknew, and if he essayed to leap it, it must be an even chance that hewould be killed in leaping. But the chance of death was a certain oneif he tarried where he was until others came to support his presentopponents. And so he briskly determined upon the lesser risk. 

He remembered that the window was nailed down, as it had remained sincemademoiselle's pretended attempt at flight. But surely that should proveno formidable obstacle. 

And now that his resolve was taken his tactics abruptly changed. Hitherto he had been sparing of his movements, husbanding his strengthagainst the long battle that seemed promised him. Suddenly he assumedthe offensive where hitherto he had but acted in self-defence, and amost deadly offensive was it. He plied his cloak, untwisting it from hisarm and flinging it over the head and body of one of his assailants, sothat he was enmeshed and blinded by it. Leaping to the fellow's flank, Garnache, with a terrific kick, knocked his legs from under him so thathe fell heavily. Then, stooping suddenly, the Parisian ran his bladeunder the other brave's guard and through the fellow's thigh. The mancried out, staggered, and then went down utterly disabled. 

One swift downward thrust Garnache made at the mass that wriggledunder his cloak. The activity of its wriggles increased in the next fewseconds, then ceased altogether. 

Tressan felt wet from head to foot with a sweat provoked by horror ofwhat he saw. The Dowager's lips were pouring forth a horrid litanyof guard-room oaths, and meanwhile Garnache had swung round to meetFortunio, the last of all who had stood with him. 

The captain came on boldly, armed with sword and dagger, and in thatmoment, feeling himself spent, Garnache bitterly repented havingrelinquished his cloak. Yet he made a stubborn fight, and whilstthey fenced and stamped about that room, Marius came to watch them, staggering to his mother's side and leaning heavily upon Tressan'sshoulder. The Marquise turned to him, her face livid to the lips. 

"That man must be the very fiend, " Garnache heard her tell her son. "Runfor help, Tressan, or, God knows, he may escape us yet. Go for men, orwe shall have Fortunio killed as well. Bid them bring muskets. "

Tressan, moving like one bereft of wits, went her errand, while the twomen fought on, stamping and panting, circling and lunging, their breathcoming in gasps, their swords grinding and clashing till sparks leaptfrom them. 

The dust rose up to envelop and almost choke them, and more than oncethey slipped in the blood with which the floor was spattered, whilstpresently Garnache barely recovered and saved himself from stumblingover the body of one of his victims against which his swiftly movingfeet had hurtled. 

And the Dowager, who watched the conflict and who knew something ofsword-play, realized that, tired though Garnache might be, unlesshelp came soon or some strange chance gave the captain the advantage, Fortunio would be laid low with the others. 

His circling had brought the Parisian round, so that his back was now tothe window, his face to the door of the bedchamber, where mademoisellestill watched in ever-growing horror. His right shoulder was in linewith the door of the antechamber, which madame occupied, and he neversaw her quit Marius's side and creep slyly into the room to speedswiftly round behind him. 

The only one from whom he thought that he might have cause to feartreachery was the man whom he had dropped with a thigh wound, and he wascareful to keep beyond the reach of any sudden sword-thrust from thatfellow. 

But if he did not see the woman's movements, mademoiselle saw them, and the sight set her eyes dilating with a new fear. She guessed theDowager's treacherous purpose. And no sooner had she guessed it than, with a choking sob, she told herself that what madame could do thatcould she also. 

Suddenly Garnache saw an opening; Fortunio's eyes, caught by theDowager's movements, strayed for a moment past his opponent, and thething would have been fatal to the captain but that in that moment, as Garnache was on the point of lunging, he felt himself caught frombehind, his arms pinioned to his sides by a pair of slender ones thattwined themselves about him, and over his shoulder, the breath of itfanning his hot cheek, came a vicious voice--

"Stab now, Fortunio!"

The captain asked nothing better. He raised his weary sword-arm andbrought his point to the level of Garnache's breast, but in that instantits weight became leaden. Imitating the Marquise, Valerie had been intime. She seized Fortunio's half-lifted arm and flung all her weightupon it. 

The captain cursed her horridly in a frenzy of fear, for he saw thatdid Garnache shake off the Marquise there would be an end of himself. Hesought to wrench himself free of her detaining grasp, and the exertionbrought him down, weary as he was, and with her weight hanging to him. He sank to his knees, and the girl, still clinging valiantly, sank withhim, calling to Garnache that she held the captain fast. 

Putting forth all his remaining strength, the Parisian twisted from theDowager's encircling grasp and hurled her from him with a violence henowise intended. 

"Yours, madame, are the first woman's arms that ever Martin de Garnachehas known, " said he. "And never could embrace of beauty have been lesswelcome. "

Panting, he caught up one of the overturned chairs. Holding it by theback he made for the window. He had dropped his sword, and he calledto mademoiselle to hold the captain yet an instant longer. He swung hischair aloft and dashed it against the window. There was a thunderingcrash of shivered glass and a cool draught of that November night cameto sweeten the air that had been fouled by the stamping of the fighters. 

Again he swung up his chair and dashed it at the window, and yet again, until no window remained, but a great, gaping opening with a fringe ofragged glass and twisted leadwork. 

In that moment Fortunio struggled to his feet, free of the girl, whosank, almost in a swoon. He sprang towards Garnache. The Parisian turnedand flung his now shattered chair toward the advancing captain. Itdropped at his feet, and his flying shins struck against an edge ofit, bringing him, hurt and sprawling, to the ground. Before he couldrecover, a figure was flying through the open gap that lately had been awindow. 

Mademoiselle sat up and screamed. 

"You will be killed, Monsieur de Garnache! Dear God, you will bekilled!" and the anguish in her voice was awful. 

It was the last thing that reached the ears of Monsieur de Garnache ashe tumbled headlong through the darkness of the chill November night. 

CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE MOAT

Fortunio and the Marquise reached the window side by side, and they werein time to hear a dull splash in the waters fifty feet below them. Therewas a cloud over the little sickle of moon, and to their eyes, freshfrom the blaze of candle-light, the darkness was impenetrable. 

"He is in the moat, " cried the Marquise excitedly, and Valerie, who saton the floor whither she had slipped when Fortunio shook her off, rockedherself in an agony of fear. 

To the horrors about her--the huddled bodies lying so still upon thefloor, the bloody footprints everywhere, the shattered furniture, and the groans of the man with the wounded thigh--to all this she wasinsensible. Garnache was dead, she told herself; he was surely dead; andit seemed as if the very thought of it were killing, too, a part of herown self. 

Unconsciously she sobbed her fears aloud. "He is dead, " she moaned; "heis dead. "

The Marquise overheard that piteous cry, and turned to survey the girl, her brows lifting, her lips parting in an astonishment that for a secondeffaced the horrors of that night. Suspicion spread like an oil stainin her evil mind. She stepped forward and caught the girl by one of herlimp arms. Marius, paler than his stunning had left him, leaned moreheavily against the door-post, and looked on with bloodshot eyes. If ever maiden avowed the secret of her heart, it seemed to him thatValerie avowed it then. 

The Marquise shook her angrily. 

"What was he to you, girl? What was he to you?" she demanded shrilly. 

And the girl, no more than half conscious of what she was saying, madeanswer:

"The bravest gentleman, the noblest friend I have ever known. "

Pah! The Dowager dropped her arm and turned to issue a command toFortunio. But already the fellow had departed. His concern was not withwomen, but with the man who had escaped him. He must make certain thatthe fall had killed Garnache. 

Breathless and worn as he was, all spattered now with blood from thescratch in his cheek, which lent him a terrific aspect, he dashedfrom that shambles and across the guard-room. He snatched up a lightedlantern that had been left in the doorway and leapt down the stairsand into the courtyard. Here he came upon Monsieur de Tressan with ahalf-dozen fellows at his heels, all more or less half clad, but allvery fully armed with swords and knives, and one or two with muskets. 

Roughly, with little thought for the dignity of his high office, hethrust the Lord Seneschal aside and turned the men. Some he ordered offto the stables to get horses, for if Garnache had survived his leap andswum the moat, they must give chase. Whatever betide, the Parisian mustnot get away. He feared the consequences of that as much for himself asfor Condillac. Some five or six of the men he bade follow him, and neverpausing to answer any of Tressan's fearful questions, he sped acrossthe courtyard, through the kitchens--which was the nearest way--into theouter quadrangle. Never pausing to draw breath, spent though he was, hepursued his flight under the great archway of the keep and across thedrawbridge, the raising of which had been that night postponed to awaitthe Lord Seneschal's departure. 

Here on the bridge he paused and turned in a frenzy to scream to hisfollowers that they should fetch more torches. Meanwhile he snatched theonly one at hand from the man-at-arms that carried it. 

His men sprang into the guard-room of the keep, realizing from hisalmost hysterical manner the urgent need for haste. And while he waitedfor them, standing there on the bridge, his torch held high, he scannedby its lurid red light the water as far as eye could reach on eitherside of him. 

There was a faint movement on the dark, oily surface for all that nowind stirred. Not more than four or five minutes could have elapsedsince Garnache's leap, and it would seem as if the last ripple from thedisturbance of his plunge had not yet rolled itself out. But otherwisethere was nothing here, nor did Fortunio expect aught. The window of theNorthern Tower abutted on to the other side of the chateau, and it wasthere he must look for traces of the fugitive or for his body. 

"Hasten!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Follow me!" And without waitingfor them he ran across the bridge and darted round the building, historch scattering a shower of sparks behind him on the night, and sendinglittle rills of blood-red light down the sword which he still carried. 

He gained the spot where Garnache must have fallen, and he stood belowthe radiance that clove the night from the shattered window fifty feetabove, casting the light of his torch this way and that over theblack bosom of the moat. Not a ripple moved now upon that even, steelysurface. Voices sounded behind him, and with them a great glare ofruddy light came to herald the arrival of his men. He turned to them andpointed with his sword away from the chateau. 

"Spread yourselves!" he shouted. "Make search yonder. He cannot havegone far. "

And they, but dimly realizing whom they sought, yet realizing that theysought a man, dashed off and spread themselves as he had bidden them, to search the stretch of meadowland, where ill must betide any fugitive, since no cover offered. 

Fortunio remained where he was at the edge of the moat. He stooped, and waving his torch along the ground he moved to the far angle of thechateau, examining the soft, oozy clay. It was impossible that a mancould have clambered out over that without leaving some impression. Hereached the corner and found the clay intact; at least, nowhere couldhe discover a mark of hands or a footprint set as would be that of a manemerging from the water. 

He retraced his steps and went back until he had reached the easternangle of the chateau, yet always with the same result. He straightenedhimself at last, and his manner was more calm; his frenzied haste wasgone, and deliberately he now raised his torch and let its light shineagain over the waters. He pondered them a moment, his dark eyes musingalmost regretfully. 

"Drowned!" he said aloud, and sheathed his sword. 

From the window overhead a voice hailed him. He looked up and saw theDowager, and, behind her, the figure of her son. Away in the meadowsthe lights of his men's torches darted hither and thither like playfuljack-o'-lanterns. 

"Have you got him, Fortunio?"

"Yes, madame, " he answered with assurance. "You may have his body whenyou will. He is underneath here. " And he pointed to the water. 

They appeared to take his word for it, for they questioned him nofurther. The Marquise turned to mademoiselle, who was still sitting onthe floor. 

"He is drowned, Valerie, " she said slowly, watching the girl's face. 

Valerie looked up. Her eyes were very wide, and her lips moved for asecond. Then she fell forward without a word. This last horror, treadingon the heels of all those that already had assailed her, proved toogreat a strain for her brave spirit. She had swooned. 

Tressan entered at that moment, full of questions as to what might betoward, for he had understood nothing in the courtyard. The Marquisecalled to him to help her with the girl, Marius being still too faint, and between them they bore her to her chamber, laid her on the bed, and, withdrawing, closed the door upon her. Then she signed to Marius and theSeneschal. 

"Come, " she said; "let us go. The sight and smell of the place areturning me sick, although my stomach is strong enough to endure mosthorrors. "

She took up one of the candle-branches to light them, and they wentbelow and made their way to the hall, where they found Marius's page, Gaston, looking very pale and scared at the din that had filled thechateau during the past half-hour or so. With him was Marius's hound, which the poor boy had kept by him for company and protection in thatdreadful time. 

The Marquise spoke to him kindly, and she stooped to pat the dog'sglossy head. Then she bade Gaston set wine for them, and when it wasfetched the three of them drank in brooding, gloomy silence. 

The draught invigorated Marius, it cheered Tressan's drooping spirits, and it quenched the Dowager's thirst. The Seneschal turned to heragain with his unanswered questions touching the end of that butcheryabove-stairs. She told him what Fortunio had said that Garnache wasdrowned as a consequence of his mad leap from the window. 

Into Tressan's mind there sprang the memory of the thing Garnache hadpromised should befall him in such a case. It drove the colour from hischeeks and brought great lines of fearful care into sharp relief abouthis mouth and eyes. 

"Madame, we are ruined!" he groaned. 

"Tressan, " she answered him contemptuously, "you are chicken-hearted. Listen to me. Did he not say that he had left his man behind him when hecame to Condillac? Where think you that he left his man?"

"Maybe in Grenoble, " answered the Seneschal, staring. 

"Find out, " she told him impressively, her eyes on his, and calm asthough they had never looked upon such sights as that very night hadoffered them. "If not in Grenoble, certainly, at least, somewhere inthis Dauphiny of which you are the King's Lord Seneschal. Turn the wholeprovince inside out, man, but find the fellow. Yours is the power todo it. Do it, then, and you will have no consequences to fear. You haveseen the man?"

"Ay, I have seen him. I remember him; and his name, I bethink me, isRabecque. "

He took courage; his face looked less dejected. 

"You overlook nothing, madame, " he murmured. "You are truly wonderful. I will start the search this very night. My men are almost all atMontelimar awaiting my commands. I'll dispatch a messenger with ordersthat they are to spread themselves throughout Dauphiny upon this quest. "

The door opened, and Fortunio entered. He was still unwashed andterrible to look upon, all blood-bespattered. The sight of him drove ashudder through Tressan. The Marquise grew solicitous. 

"How is your wound, Fortunio?" was her first question. 

He made a gesture that dismissed the matter. 

"It is nothing. I am over full-blooded, and if I am scratched, I bleed, without perceiving it, enough to drain another man. "

"Here, drink, mon capitaine, " she urged him, very friendly, fillinghim a cup with her own hands. "And you, Marius?" she asked. "Are yourecovering strength?"

"I am well, " answered Marius sullenly. His defeat that evening hadleft him glum and morose. He felt that he had cut a sorry figure in theaffair, and his vanity was wounded. "I deplore I had so little share inthe fight, " he muttered. 

"The lustiest fight ever I or any man beheld, " swore Fortunio. "Dieu!But he was a fighter, that Monsieur de Garnache, and he deserved abetter end than drowning. "

"You are quite sure that he is drowned?"

Fortunio replied by giving his reasons for that conclusion, and theyconvinced both the Marquise and her son indeed they had never deemedit possible that the Parisian could have survived that awful leap. TheDowager looked at Marius, and from him to the captain. 

"Do you think, you two, that you will be fit for tomorrow's business?"

"For myself, " laughed Fortunio, "I am ready for it now. "

"And I shall be when I have rested, " answered Marius grimly. 

"Then get you both to rest, you will be needing it, " she bade them. 

"And I, too, madame, " said the Seneschal, bending over the hand she heldout to him. "Good-night to you all. " He would have added a word to wishthem luck in the morrow's venture; but for the life of him he dared not. He turned, made another of his bows, and rolled out of the room. 

Five minutes later the drawbridge was being raised after his departure, and Fortunio was issuing orders to the men he had recalled from theirfutile search to go clear the guard-room and antechamber of the NorthernTower, and to bear the dead to the chapel, which must serve as amortuary for the time. That done he went off to bed, and soon after thelights were extinguished in Condillac; and save for Arsenio, who was, onguard, sorely perturbed by all that had befallen and marvelling at therashness of his friend "Battista"--for he had no full particulars of thebusiness--the place was wrapped in sleep. 

Had they been less sure that Garnache was drowned, maybe they hadslumbered less tranquilly that night at Condillac. Fortunio had beenshrewd in his conclusions, yet a trifle hasty; for whilst, as a matterof fact, he was correct in assuming that the Parisian had notcrawled out of the moat--neither at the point he had searched, norelsewhere--yet was he utterly wrong to assume him at the bottom of it. 

Garnache had gone through that window prepared to leap intoanother--and, he hoped, a better world. He had spun round twice in theair and shot feet foremost through the chill waters of the moat, anddown until his toes came in contact with a less yielding substance, yetyielding nevertheless. Marvelling that he should have retained until nowhis senses, he realized betimes that he was touching mud--that he wasreally ankle deep in it. A vigorous, frantic kick with both legs at oncereleased him, and he felt himself slowly re-ascending to the surface. 

It has been often said that a drowning man in his struggles sees hiswhole life mirrored before him. In the instants of Garnache's ascentthrough the half stagnant waters of that moat he had reviewed the entiresituation and determined upon the course he should pursue. When hereached the surface, he must see to it that he broke it gently, for atthe window above were sure to be watchers, looking to see how he hadfared. Madame, he remembered, had sent Tressan for muskets. If he hadreturned with them and they should perceive him from above, a bulletwould be sent to dispose of him, and it were a pity to be shot now afterhaving come through so much. 

His head broke the surface and emerged into the chill darkness of thenight. He took a deep breath of cold but very welcome air, and movinghis arms gently under water, he swam quietly, not to the edge of themoat but to the chateau wall, close under which he thought he would besecure from observation. He found by good fortune a crevice between twostones; he did not see it, his fingers found it for him as they gropedalong that granite surface. He clung there a moment and pondered thesituation. He heard voices above, and looking up he saw the glare oflight through the opening he had battered. 

And now he was surprised to feel new vigour running through him. He hadhurled himself from that window with scarce the power to leap, bathed inperspiration and deeming his strength utterly spent. The ice-cold watersof the moat had served, it would seem, to brace him, to wash away hisfatigue, and to renew his energies. His mind was singularly clear andhis senses rendered superacute, and he set himself to consider what hehad best do. 

Swim to the edge of the moat and, clambering out, take to his legs wasnaturally the first impulse. But, reflecting upon the open nature of theground, he realized that that must mean his ruin. Presently they wouldcome to see how he had fared, and failing to find him in the water theywould search the country round about. He set himself in their place. Hetried to think as they would think, the better that he might realizehow they would act, and then an idea came to him that might be worthheeding. In any case his situation was still very desperate; on thatscore he allowed himself no illusions. That they would take his drowningfor granted, and never come to satisfy themselves, he was not optimistenough to assume. 

He abandoned his grip of the wall and began to swim gently toward theeastern angle. If they came out, they must lower the bridge; he wouldplace himself so that in falling it should cover him and screen him fromtheir sight. He rounded the angle of the building, and now the friendlycloud that had hung across the moon moved by, and a faint, silverradiance was upon the water under his eyes. But yonder, ahead of him, something black lay athwart the moat. At once he knew it for the bridge. It was down. And he had the explanation in that he remembered that theLord Seneschal had not yet left Condillac. It mattered little to him oneway or the other. The bridge was there, and he made the best of it. 

A few swift, silent strokes brought him to it. He hesitated a momentbefore venturing into the darkness underneath; then, bethinking him thatit was that or discovery, he passed under. He made for the wall, and ashe groped along he found a chain depending and reaching down into thewater. He caught at it with both hands and hung by it to await events. 

And now, for the first time that night, his pulses really quickened. There in the dark he waited, and the moments that sped seemed very longto him, and they were very anxious. He had no good sword wherewith todefend himself were he attacked, no good, solid ground on which to takehis stand. If he were discovered, he was helpless, at their mercy, toshoot, or take, or beat to death as best they listed. And so he waited, his pulses throbbing, his breath coming short and fast. The cold waterthat had invigorated him some minutes ago was numbing him now, andseemed to be freezing his courage as it froze the blood in his veins, the very marrow in his bones. 

Presently his ears caught a rush of feet, a sound of voices, andFortunio's raised above the others. Heavy steps rang on the bridgeover his head, and the thud of their fall was like thunder to the manbeneath. A crimson splash of light fell on the moat on either side ofhim. The fellow on the bridge had halted. Then the steps went on. Thelight flared this way and that, and Garnache almost trembled, expectingat every moment that its rays would penetrate the spot where he washanging and reveal him cowering there like a frightened water-rat. Butthe man moved on, and his light flared no longer. 

Then others followed him. Garnache heard the sounds of their search. Sooverwrought was he that there was a moment when he thought of swimmingto the edge and making across the country to the north while they werehunting the meadows to the east; but he repressed the impulse and stayedon. An eternity did it seem before those men returned and marched oncemore over his head. A further eternity was it until the clatter ofhoofs on the courtyard stones and their thunder on the planks above himbrought him the news that Tressan was riding home. He heard the hoofsquicken, and their loud rattle on the road that led down to the Isere, a half-mile away; and then, when the hoof-beats grew more distant, therecame again the echo of voices up above. 

Was it not over yet? Dear God! would it never end? He felt that a fewmoments more of this immersion and he should be done for utterly; hisnumbness must rob him of the power to cross the moat. 

Suddenly the first welcome sound he had heard that night came to hisears. Chains creaked, hinges groaned, and the great black pall abovehim began gradually to rise. Faster it went, till, at last, it fell backinto position, flat with the wall of the chateau, and such little lightas there was from the moon was beating down upon his frozen face. 

He let the chain go, and, with strokes swift and silent as he couldcontrive, he crossed the water. He clambered up the bank, almost bereftof strength. A moment he crouched there listening. Had he moved toosoon? Had he been incautious?

Nothing stirred behind him to confirm his fears. He crept softlyacross the hard ground of the road where he had landed. Then, when theyielding, silent turf was under his feet, he gave not another thoughtfor his numbness, but started to run as a man runs in a nightmare, solittle did the speed of his movements match the pace of his desire toset a distance between himself and Condillac. 

CHAPTER XIX. THROUGH THE NIGHT

It wanted something over an hour to midnight when Monsieur de Garnachestarted out in his sodden clothes to run from Condillac. He bore away tothe north, and continued running until he had covered a mile or so, whenperforce he must slacken his pace lest presently he should have to giveway to utter exhaustion. He trudged on bravely thereafter, at a good, swinging pace, realizing that in moving briskly lay his salvation fromsuch ill effects as might otherwise attend his too long immersion. Hisrun had set a pleasant glow upon his skin and seemed to have thawed thefrozen condition of his joints. Yet he could not disguise from himselfthat he was sorely worn by that night's happenings, and that, if hewould reach his goal, he must carefully husband such strength as yetremained him. 

That goal of his was Voiron, some four leagues distant to the north, where, at the inn of the Beau Paon, his man, Rabecque, should be lodged, ready for his coming at any time. Once already, when repairing toCondillac, he had travelled by that road, and it was so direct thatthere seemed scant fear of his mistaking it. On he plodded through thenight, his way lighted for him by the crescent moon, the air so stillthat, despite his wet garments, being warmed as he was by his briskmovements, he never felt the cold of it. 

He had overheard enough of what had been said by Marius to Valerie tounderstand the business that was afoot for the morrow, and he doubtedhim that he had not sufficiently injured the Dowager's son to make himrefrain from or adjourn his murderous ride across the border into Savoy. 

Garnache's purpose now was to reach Voiron, there to snatch a briefrest, and then, equipped anew to set out with his man for La Rochetteand anticipate the fell plans of Marius and Fortunio. 

He might have experienced elation at his almost miraculous escape and atthe circumstance that he was still at large to carry this duel with theCondillacs to a fitting finish, were it not for the reflection that butfor his besetting sin of hastiness he might now be travelling in drygarments toward La Rochette, with mademoiselle beside him. Once againthat rash temper of his had marred an enterprise that was on the pointof succeeding. And yet, even as he regretted his rashness, rage stirredhim again at the thought of Marius crushing that slender shape againsthim and seeking to force his odious kisses upon her pure, immaculatelips. And then the thought of her, left behind at Condillac at themercy of Marius and that she-devil the Marquise, and the fears that ofa sudden leapt up in his mind, brought him to a standstill, as though hewere contemplating the incomparable folly of a return. He beat his handstogether for a moment in a frenzy of anguish; he threw back his headand raised his eyes to the sky above with a burst of imprecations on hislips. And then reflection brought him peace. No, no; they dare offerher no hurt. To do so must irrevocably lose them La Vauvraye; and it wastheir covetousness had made them villains. Upon that covetousness didtheir villainy rest, and he need fear from them no wanton ruthlessnessthat should endanger their chance of profit. 

He trudged on, reassured. He had been a fool so to give way to fear; asgreat a fool as he had been when he had laid hands on Marius to quellhis excessive amorousness. Dieu! Was he bewitched? What ailed him? Againhe paused there in the night to think the situation out. 

A dozen thoughts, all centering about Valerie, came crowding in uponhis brain, till in the end a great burst of laughter--the laughter of amadman almost, eerie and terrific as it rang upon the silent night brokefrom his parted lips. That brief moment of introspection had revealedhim to himself, and the revelation had fetched that peal of mockinglaughter from him. 

He realized now, at last, that not because the Queen had ordered him toprocure Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye's enlargement had he submittedto assume a filthy travesty, to set his neck in jeopardy, to playthe lackey and the spy. It was because something in Valerie's eyes, something in her pure, lily face had moved him to it; and simultaneouslyhad come the thought of the relation in which she stood to that man atLa Rochette whose life he now sought to save for her, and it had stabbedhim with a bitterness no misfortune, no failure yet had brought him. 

He trudged on, knowing himself for what he was a fool who, after closeupon forty years of a strenuous life in which no petticoat had played apart, was come under the spell of a pair of innocent eyes belonging to achild almost young enough to have been his daughter. 

He despised himself a little for his weakness; he despised himself forhis apostasy from the faith that had governed his life--the faith tokeep himself immune from the folly to which womanhood had driven so manya stout man. 

And yet, mock himself, despise himself as he would, a great tenderness, a great desire grew strong in his soul that night as he trudged ontoward distant Voiron. Mile after mile her image kept him company, andonce, when he had left Voreppe behind him, the greater portion of hisjourney done, some devil whispered in his ear that he was weary; thathe would be over-weary on the morrow for any ride to La Rochette. He haddone all that mortal man could do; let him rest to-morrow whilst Mariusand Fortunio accomplished by Florimond what the fever had begun. 

A cold perspiration broke on him as he wrestled with that grimtemptation. Valerie was his; she belonged to him by the right of dangersshared; never had mother in her labours been nearer death for theoffspring's sake than had he for Valerie during the days that were spedand the hours that were but gone. She belonged to him by the title ofthose dangers he had been through. What had Florimond done to establishhis claim to her? He had remained absent during long years, a-warring ina foreign land. With how many banal loves might not the fellow in thattime have strewn his soldier's path! Garnache knew well how close doesCupid stalk in the wake of Mars, knew well the way of these gay soldiersand the lightness of their loves. 

Was, then, this fellow to come now and claim her, when perils were past, when there was naught left to do but lead her to the altar? Could he beworthy of such a pearl of womanhood, this laggard who, because a fevertouched him, sat him down in an inn within a few hours' ride of her torest him, as though the world held no such woman as Valerie?

And she, herself, by what ties was she bound to him? By the ties of anold promise, given at an age when she knew not what love meant. Hehad talked of it with her, and he knew how dispassionately she awaitedFlorimond's return. Florimond might be betrothed to her--her father andhis had encompassed that between them--but no lover of hers was he. 

Thus far did his thoughts journey, and temptation gripped him ever moreand more strongly. And then his manhood and his honour awoke with ashudder, as awakens a man from an ugly dream. What manner of fool washe? he asked himself again. Upon what presumptions did he base his sillymusings? Did he suppose that even were there no Florimond, it would beleft for a harsh, war-worn old greybeard such as he to awaken tendernessin the bosom of that child? The tenderness of friendship perhaps--shehad confessed to that; but the tenderness of her sweet love must be wonby a younger, comelier man. 

If love had indeed touched him at last, let him be worthy of it and ofher who inspired it. Let him strain every sinew in her service, askingno guerdon; let him save the life of the man to whom she was affianced;let him save her from the clutches of the Marquise de Condillac and herbeautiful, unscrupulous son. 

He put his folly from him and-went on, seeking to hold his mind to theplanning of his to-morrow's journey and its business. He had no means toknow that at that very hour Valerie was on her knees by her little whitebed, in the Northern Tower of Condillac, praying for the repose of thesoul of Monsieur de Garnache--the bravest gentleman, the noblest friendshe had ever known. For she accounted him dead, and she thought withhorror of his body lying in the slime under the cold waters of the moatbeneath the window of her antechamber. A change seemed to have come uponher. Her soul was numb, her courage seemed dead, and little care had shein that hour of what might betide her now. 

Florimond was coming, she remembered: coming to wed her. Ah, well! Itmattered little, since Monsieur de Garnache was dead--as though it couldhave mattered had he been living!

Three hours of his long striding brought Garnache at last to Voiron, andthe echo of his footsteps rang through the silent streets and scared astray cat or two that were preying out of doors. There was no watchin the little township and no lights, but by the moon's faint glimmerGarnache sought the inn of the Beau Paon, and found it at the end of alittle wandering. A gaudy peacock, with tail spread wide, was the signabove the door on which he thumped and kicked as if he would have beatenit down. 

It opened after some delay, and a man, half clad, candle in hand, anight-cap on his hoary locks, showed an angry face at the opening. 

At sight of the gaunt, bedraggled figure that craved admittance, thelandlord would have shut the door again, fearing that he had to do withsome wild bandit from the hills. But Garnache thrust his foot in theway. 

"There is a man named Rabecque, from Paris, lodging here. I must haveinstant speech with him, " said he; and his words, together with thecrisp, commanding tones in which they were uttered, had their effectupon the host. 

Rabecque had been playing the great lord during the week he had spentat Voiron, and had known how to command a certain deference and regard. That this tatterdemalion, with the haughty voice, should demand to seehim at that hour of the night, with such scant unconcern of how farhe might incommode the great Monsieur Rabecque, earned for him too acertain measure of regard, though still alloyed with some suspicion. 

The landlord bade him enter. He did not know whether Monsieur Rabecquewould forgive him for being disturbed; he could not say whether MonsieurRabecque would consent to see this visitor at such an hour; veryprobably he would not. Still, monsieur might enter. 

Garnache cut him short before he had half done, announced his nameand bade him convey it to Rabecque. The alacrity with which the lackeystirred from his bed upon hearing who it was that had arrived impressedthe host not a little, but not half so much as it impressed himpresently to observe the deference with which this great MonsieurRabecque of Paris confronted the scarecrow below stairs when he wasbrought into its presence. 

"You are safe and sound, monsieur?" he cried, in deferential joy. 

"Aye, by a miracle, mon fils, " Garnache answered him, with a shortlaugh. "Help me to bed; then bring me a cup of spiced wine. I have swuma moat and done other wonders in these clothes. "

The host and Rabecque bustled now to minister to his wants between them, and when, jaded and worn, Garnache lay at last between good-smellingsheets with the feeling in him that he was like to sleep until the dayof judgment, he issued his final orders. 

"Awake me at daybreak, Rabecque, " said he drowsily. "We must be stirringthen. Have horse ready and clothes for me. I shall need you to wash meclean and shave me and make me what I was before your tricks and dyesturned me into what I have been this week and more. Take away the light. At daybreak! Don't let me sleep beyond that as you value your place withme. We shall have brisk work to-morrow. At--daybreak--Rabecque!"

CHAPTER XX. FLORIMOND DE CONDILLAC

It was noon of the next day when two horsemen gained the heights aboveLa Rochette and paused to breathe their nags and take a survey of thelittle township in the plain at their feet. One of these was Monsieurde Garnache, the other was his man Rabecque. But it was no longer thetravestied Garnache that Condillac had known as "Battista" during thepast days, it was that gentleman as he had been when first he presentedhimself at the chateau. Rabecque had shaved him, and by means of certainunguents had cleansed his skin and hair of the dyes with which he hadearlier overlaid them. 

That metamorphosis, of itself, was enough to set Garnache in a goodhumour; he felt himself again, and the feeling gave him confidence. His mustachios bristled as fiercely as of old, his skin was clear andhealthy, and his dark brown hair showed ashen at the temples. Hewas becomingly arrayed in a suit of dark brown camlet, with rows ofclose-set gold buttons running up his hanging sleeves; a leather jerkinhid much of his finery, and his great boots encased his legs. He wore abrown hat, with a tallish crown and a red feather, and Rabecque carriedhis cloak for him, for the persistent Saint Martin's summer renderedthat day of November rather as one of early autumn. 

A flood of sunshine descended from a cloudless sky to drench the countryat their feet, and all about them the trees preserved a green that wasbut little touched by autumnal browning. 

Awhile he paused there on the heights; then he gave his horse a touchof the spur, and they started down the winding road that led into LaRochette. A half-hour later they were riding under the porte cochere ofthe inn of the Black Boar. Of the ostler who hastened forward to taketheir reins Monsieur de Garnache inquired if the Marquis de Condillacwere lodged there. He was answered in the affirmative, and he got downat once from his horse. Indeed, but for the formality of the thing, hemight have spared himself the question, for lounging about thecourtyard were a score of stalwart weather-tanned fellows, whose air andaccoutrements proclaimed them soldiers. It required little shrewdnessto guess in them the personal followers of the Marquis, the remainder ofthe little troop that had followed the young seigneur to the wars when, some three years ago, he had set out from Condillac. 

Garnache gave orders for the horses to be cared for, and bade Rabecqueget himself fed in the common room. Heralded by the host, the Parisianthen mounted the stairs to Monsieur de Condillac's apartments. 

The landlord led the way to the inn's best room, turned the handle, and, throwing wide the door, stood aside for Monsieur de Garnache to enter. 

From within the chamber came the sounds of a scuffle, a man's softlaugh, and a girl's softer intercession. 

"Let me go, monsieur. Of your pity, let me go. Some one is coming. "

"And what care I who comes?" answered a voice that seemed oppressed bylaughter. 

Garnache strode into the chamber--spacious and handsomely furnished asbecame the best room of the Auberge du Sanglier Noir--to find a mealspread on the table, steaming with an odour promising of good things, but neglected by the guest for the charms of the serving-wench, whosewaist he had imprisoned. As Garnache's tall figure loomed before him helet the girl go and turned a half-laughing, half-startled face upon theintruder. 

"Who the devil may you be?" he inquired, and a brown eye, rakish androving in its glance, played briskly over the Parisian, whilst Garnachehimself returned the compliment, and calmly surveyed this floridgentleman of middle height with the fair hair and regular features. 

The girl scurried by and darted from the room, dodging the smiting handwhich the host raised as she flew past him. The Parisian felt his gorgerising. Was this the sort of fever that had kept Monsieur le Marquis atLa Rochette, whilst mademoiselle was suffering in durance at Condillac?His last night's jealous speculations touching a man he did not know hadleastways led him into no exaggeration. He found just such a man as hehad pictured--a lightly-loving, pleasure-taking roysterer, with never athought beyond the amusement which the hour afforded him. 

With curling lip Garnache bowed stiffly, and in a cold, formal voice heannounced himself. 

"My name is Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache. I am an emissarydispatched from Paris by her Majesty the Queen-mother to procure theenlargement of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye from the durance in which sheis held by madame your stepmother. "

The pleasant gentleman's eyebrows went up; a smile that was almostinsolent broke on his face. 

"That being so, monsieur, why the devil are you here?"

"I am here, monsieur, " answered him Garnache, throwing back his head, his nostrils quivering, "because you are not at Condillac. "

The tone was truculent to the point of defiance, for despite the firmresolve he had taken last night never again to let his temper overmasterhim, already Garnache's self-control was slipping away. 

The Marquis noted the tone, and observed the man. In their way heliked both; in their way he disliked both. But he clearly saw that thispeppery gentleman must be treated less cavalierly, or trouble would comeof it. So he waved him gracefully to the table, where a brace of flagonsstood amid the steaming viands. 

"You will dine with me, monsieur, " said he, the utmost politenessmarking his utterance now. "I take it that since you have come here inquest of me you have something to tell me. Shall we talk as we eat? Idetest a lonely meal. "

The florid gentleman's tone and manner were mollifying in the extreme. Garnache had risen early and ridden far; the smell of the viands hadquickened an appetite already very keen; moreover, since he and thisgentleman were to be allies, it was as well they should not begin byquarrelling. 

He bowed less stiffly, expressed his willingness and his thanks, laidhat and whip and cloak aside, unbuckled and set down his sword, and, that done, took at table the place which his host himself prepared him. 

Garnache took more careful stock of the Marquis now. He found much tolike in his countenance. It was frank and jovial; obviously that ofa sensualist, but, leastways, an honest sensualist. He was dressedin black, as became a man who mourned his father, yet with a strikingrichness of material, whilst his broad collar of fine point and the lacecuffs of his doublet were worth a fortune. 

What time they ate Monsieur de Garnache told of his journey from Parisand of his dealings with Tressan and his subsequent adventures atCondillac. He dwelt passingly upon the manner in which they had treatedhim, and found it difficult to choose words to express the reason forhis returning in disguise to play the knight-errant to Valerie. Hepassed on to speak of last night's happenings and of his escape. Throughout, the Marquis heard him with a grave countenance and a sober, attentive glance, yet, when he had finished a smile crept round thesensual lips. 

"The letter that I had at Milan prepared me for some such trouble asthis, " said he, and Garnache was amazed at the lightness of his tone, just as he had been amazed to see the fellow keep his countenance atthe narrative of mademoiselle's position. "I guessed that my beautifulstepmother intended me some such scurviness from the circumstance of herhaving kept me in ignorance of my father's death. But frankly, sir, yourtale by far outstrips my wildest imaginings. You have behaved very--verybravely in this affair. You seem, in fact, to have taken a greaterinterest in Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye's enlargement than the Queencould have a right to expect of you. " And he smiled, a world ofsuggestion in his eyes. Garnache sat back in his chair and stared at theman. 

"This levity, monsieur, on such a subject, leaves me thunderstruck, " hesaid at last. 

"Diable!" laughed the other. "You are too prone, after your trials; toview its tragic rather than its comic side. Forgive me if I am smittenonly with the humour of the thing. "

"The humour of the thing!" gurgled Garnache, his eyes starting from hishead. Then out leapt that temper of his like an eager hound that hasbeen suddenly unleashed. He brought down his clenched hand upon thetable, caught in passing a flagon, and sent it crashing to the floor. Ifthere was a table near at hand when his temper went, he never failed totreat it so. 

"Par la mort Dieu! monsieur, you see but the humour of it, do you? Andwhat of that poor child who is lying there, suffering this incarcerationbecause of her fidelity to a promise given you?"

The statement was hardly fully accurate. But it served its purpose. Theother's face became instantly, grave. 

"Calm yourself, I beg, monsieur, " he cried, raising a soothing hand. "Ihave offended you somewhere; that is plain. There is something here thatI do not altogether understand. You say that Valerie has suffered onaccount of a promise given me? To what are you referring?"

"They hold her a prisoner, monsieur, because they wish to wed her toMarius, " answered Garnache, striving hard to cool his anger. 

"Parfaitement! That much I understood. "

"Well, then, monsieur, is the rest not plain? Because she is betrothedto you--" He paused. He saw, at last, that he was stating something notaltogether accurate. But the other took his meaning there and then, layback in his chair, and burst out laughing. 

The blood hummed through Garnache's head as he tightened his lips andwatched this gentleman indulge his inexplicable mirth. Surely Monsieurde Condillac was possessed of the keenest sense of humour in all France. He laughed with a will, and Garnache sent up a devout prayer that thelaugh might choke him. The noise of it filled the hostelry. 

"Sir, " said Garnache, with an ever-increasing tartness, "there is aby-word has it 'Much laughter, little wit. ' In confidence won, is thatyour case, monsieur?"

The other looked at him soberly a moment, then went off again. 

"Monsieur, monsieur!" he gasped, "you'll be the death of me. For thelove of Heaven look less fierce. Is it my fault that I must laugh? Thefolly of it all is so colossal. Three years from home, yet there isa woman keeps faithful and holds to a promise given for her. Come, monsieur, you who have seen the world, you must agree that there is inthis something that is passing singular, extravagantly amusing. My poorlittle Valerie!" he spluttered through his half-checked mirth, "does shewait for me still? does she count me still betrothed to her? And becauseof that, says 'No' to brother Marius! Death of my life! I shall die ofit. "

"I have a notion that you may, monsieur, " rasped Garnache's voice, andwith it rasped Garnache's chair upon the boards. He had risen, and hewas confronting his merry host very fiercely, white to the lips, hiseyes aflame. There was no mistaking his attitude, no mistaking hiswords. 

"Eh?" gasped the other, recovering himself at last to envisage whatappeared to develop into a serious situation. 

"Monsieur, " said Garnache, his voice very cold, "do I understand thatyou no longer intend to carry out your engagement and wed Mademoisellede La Vauvraye?"

A dull flush spread upon the Marquis's face. He rose too, and across thetable he confronted his guest, his mien haughty, his eyes imperious. 

"I thought, monsieur, " said he, with a great dignity, "I thought whenI invited you to sit at my table that your business was to serve me, however little I might be conscious of having merited the honour. Itseems instead that you are come hither to affront me. You are my guest, monsieur. Let me beg that you will depart before I resent a question ona matter which concerns myself alone. "

The man was right, and Garnache was wrong. He had no title to take upthe affairs of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. But he was past reason now, and he was not the man to brook haughtiness, however courteously itmight be cloaked. He eyed the Marquis's flushed ace across the board, and his lip curled. 

"Monsieur, " said he, "I take your meaning very fully. Half a word withme is as good as a whole sentence with another. You have dubbed mein polite phrases an impertinent. That I am not; and I resent theimputation. "

"Oh, that!" said the Marquis, with a half-laugh and a shrug. "If youresent it--" His smile and his gesture made the rest plain. 

"Exactly, monsieur, " was Garnache's answer. "But I do not fight sickmen. "

Florimond's brows grew wrinkled, his eyes puzzled. 

"Sick men!" he echoed. "Awhile ago, monsieur, you appeared to cast adoubt upon my sanity. Is it a case of the drunkard who thinks all theworld drunk but himself?"

Garnache gazed at him. That doubt he had entertained grew now intosomething like assurance. 

"I know not whether it is the fever makes your tongue run so--" hebegan, when the other broke in, a sudden light of understanding in hiseyes. 

"You are at fault, " he cried. "I have no fever. "

"But then your letter to Condillac?" demanded Garnache, lost now inutter amazement. 

"What of it? I'll swear I never said I had a fever. "

"I'll swear you did. "

"You give me the lie, then?"

But Garnache waved his hands as if he implored the other, to havedone with giving and taking offence. There was some misunderstandingsomewhere, he realized, and sheer astonishment had cooled his anger. Hisonly aim now was to have this obscure thing made clear. 

"No, no, " he cried. "I am seeking enlightenment. "

Florimond smiled. 

"I may have said that we were detained by a fever; but I never said thepatient was myself. "

"Who then? Who else?" cried Garnache. 

"Why, now I understand, monsieur. But it is my wife who has the fever. "

"Your--!" Garnache dared not trust himself to utter the word. 

"My wife, monsieur, " the Marquis repeated. "The journey proved too muchfor her, travelling at the rate she did. "

A silence fell. Garnache's long chin sank on to his breast, and he stoodthere, his eyes upon the tablecloth, his thoughts with the poor innocentchild who waited at Condillac, so full of trust and faith and loyalty tothis betrothed of hers who had come home with a wife out of Italy. 

And then, while he stood so and Florimond was regarding him curiously, the door opened, and the host appeared. 

"Monsieur le Marquis, " said he, "there are two gentlemen below asking tosee you. One of them is Monsieur Marius de Condillac. "

"Marius?" cried the Marquis, and he started round with a frown. 

"Marius?" breathed Garnache, and then, realizing that the assassinshad followed so close upon his heels, he put all thoughts from his mindother than that of the immediate business. He had, himself, a scoreto settle with them. The time was now. He swung round on his heel, andbefore he knew what he had said the words were out:

"Bring them up, Monsieur l'Hote. "

Florimond looked at him in surprise. 

"Oh, by all means, if monsieur wishes it, " said he, with a fine irony. 

Garnache looked at him, then back at the hesitating host. 

"You have heard, " said he coolly. "Bring them up. "

"Bien, monsieur, " replied the host, withdrawing and closing the doorafter him. 

"Your interference in my affairs grows really droll, monsieur, " said theMarquis tartly. 

"When you shall have learned to what purpose I am interfering, you'llfind it, possibly, not quite so droll, " was the answer, no less tart. "We have but a moment, monsieur. Listen while I tell you the nature oftheir errand. "

CHAPTER XXI. THE GHOST IN THE CUPBOARD

Garnache had but a few minutes in which to unfold his story, and heneeded, in addition, a second or two in which to ponder the situation ashe now found it. 

His first reflection was that Florimond, since he was now married, mightperhaps, instead of proving Valerie's saviour from Marius, join forceswith his brother in coercing her into this alliance with him. Butfrom what Valerie herself had told him he was inclined to think morefavourably of Florimond and to suppress such doubts as these. Still hecould incur no risks; is business was to serve Valerie and Valerie only;to procure at all costs her permanent liberation from the power of theCondillacs. To make sure of this he must play upon Florimond's anger, letting him know that Marius had journeyed to La Rochette for thepurpose of murdering his half-brother. That he but sought to murderhim to the end that he might be removed from his path to Valerie, wasa circumstance that need not too prominently be presented. Still, presented it must be, for Florimond would require to know by whatmotive his brother was impelled ere he could credit him capable of suchvillainy. 

Succinctly, but tellingly, Garnache brought out the story of the plotthat had been laid for Florimond's assassination, and it joyed him tosee the anger rising in the Marquis's face and flashing from his eyes. 

"What reason have they for so damnable a deed?" he cried, betweenincredulity and indignation. 

"Their overweening ambition. Marius covets Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye'sestates. "

"And to gain his ends he would not stop at murdering me? Is it, indeed, the truth you tell me?"

"I pledge my honour for the truth of it, " answered Garnache, watchinghim closely. Florimond looked at him a moment. The steady glance ofthose blue eyes and the steady tone of that crisp voice scattered hislast doubt. 

"The villains!" cried the Marquis. "The fools!" he added. "For me, Marius had been welcome to Valerie. He might have found in me an allyto aid him in the urging of his suit. But now--" He raised his clenchedhand and shook it in the air, as if in promise of the battle he woulddeliver. 

"Good, " said Garnache, reassured. "I hear their steps upon the stairs. They must not find me with you. "

A moment later the door opened, and Marius, very bravely arrayed, entered the room, followed closely by Fortunio. Neither showed much illeffects of last night's happenings, save for a long dark-brown scar thatran athwart the captain's cheek, where Garnache's sword had ploughed it. 

They found Florimond seated quietly at table, and as they entered herose and came forward with a friendly smile to greet his brother. Hissense of humour was being excited; he was something of an actor, and therole he had adopted in the comedy to be played gave him a certain grimsatisfaction. He would test for himself the truth of what Monsieurde Garnache had told him concerning his brother's intentions. Mariusreceived his advances very coolly. He took his brother's hand, submittedto his brother's kiss; but neither kiss nor hand-pressure did he return. Florimond affected not to notice this. 

"You are well, my dear Marius, I hope, " said he, and thrusting himout at arms' length, he held him by the shoulders and regarded himcritically. "Ma foi, but you are changed into a comely well-grown man. And your mother--she is well, too, I trust. "

"I thank you, Florimond, she is well, " said Marius stiffly. 

The Marquis took his hands from his brother's shoulders; his florid, good-natured face smiling ever, as if this were the happiest moment ofhis life. 

"It is good to see France again, my dear Marius, " he told his brother. "I was a fool to have remained away so long. I am pining to be atCondillac once more. "

Marius eyeing him, looked in vain for signs of the fever. He hadexpected to find a debilitated, emaciated man; instead, he saw a verylusty, healthy, hearty fellow, full of good humour, and seeminglyfull of strength. He began to like his purpose less, despite suchencouragement as he gathered from the support of Fortunio. Still, itmust be gone through with. 

"You wrote us that you had the fever, " he said, half inquiringly. 

"Pooh! That is naught. " And Florimond snapped a strong finger againsta stronger thumb. "But whom have you with you?" he asked, and his eyestook the measure of Fortunio, standing a pace or two behind his master. 

Marius presented his bravo. 

"This is Captain Fortunio, the commander of our garrison of Condillac. "

The Marquis nodded good-humouredly towards the captain. 

"Captain Fortunio? He is well named for a soldier of fortune. Mybrother, no doubt, will have family matters to tell me of. If you willstep below, Monsieur le Capitaine, and drink a health or so while youwait, I shall be honoured. "

The captain, nonplussed, looked at Marius, and Florimond surprised thelook. But Marius's manner became still chillier. 

"Fortunio here, " said he, and he half turned and let his hand fall onthe captain's shoulder, "is my very good friend. I have no secrets fromhim. "

The instant lift of Florimond's eyebrows was full of insolent, supercilious disdain. Yet Marius did not fasten his quarrel upon that. He had come to La Rochette resolved that any pretext would serve histurn. But the sight of his brother so inflamed his jealousy that he hadnow determined that the quarrel should be picked on the actual ground inwhich it had its roots. 

"Oh, as you will, " said the Marquis coolly. "Perhaps your friend willbe seated, and you, too, my dear Marius. " And he played the host to themwith a brisk charm. Setting chairs, he forced them to sit, and pressedwine upon them. 

Marius cast his hat and cloak on the chair where Garnache's had beenleft. The Parisian's hat and cloak, he naturally assumed to belong tohis brother. The smashed flagon and the mess of wine upon the floorhe scarce observed, setting it down to some clumsiness, either hisbrother's or a servant's. They both drank, Marius in silence, thecaptain with a toast. 

"Your good return, Monsieur le Marquis, " said he, and Florimond thankedhim by an inclination of the head. Then, turning to Marius:

"And so, " he said, "you have a garrison at Condillac. What the devilhas been taking place there? I have had some odd news of you. It wouldalmost seem as if you were setting up as rebels in our quiet littlecorner of Dauphiny. "

Marius shrugged his shoulders; his face suggested that he wasill-humoured. 

"Madame the Queen-Regent has seen fit to interfere in our concerns. WeCondillacs do not lightly brook interference. "

Florimond showed his teeth in a pleasant smile. 

"That is true, that is very true, Pardieu! But what warranted thisaction of Her Majesty's?"

Marius felt that the time for deeds was come. This fatuous conversationwas but a futile waste of time. He set down his glass, and sitting backin his chair he fixed his sullen black eyes full upon his half-brother'ssmiling brown ones. 

"I think we have exchanged compliments enough, " said he, and Fortuniowagged his head approvingly. There were too many men in the courtyardfor his liking, and the more time they waited, the more likely were theyto suffer interruption. Their aim must be to get the thing done quickly, and then quickly to depart before an alarm could be raised. "Our troubleat Condillac concerns Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. "

Florimond started forward, with a ready assumption of lover-likesolicitude. 

"No harm has come to her?" he cried. "Tell me that no harm has come toher. "

"Reassure yourself, " answered Marius, with a sneer, a greyness thatwas of jealous rage overspreading his face. "No harm has come to herwhatever. The trouble was that I sought to wed her, and she, becauseshe is betrothed to you, would have none of me. So we brought her toCondillac, hoping always to persuade her. You will remember that she wasunder my mother's tutelage. The girl, however, could not be constrained. She suborned one of our men to bear a letter to Paris for her, andin answer to it the Queen sent a hot-headed, rash blunderer down toDauphiny to procure her liberation. He lies now at the bottom of themoat of Condillac. "

Florimond's face had assumed a look of horror and indignation. 

"Do you dare tell me this?" he cried. 

"Dare?" answered Marius, with an ugly laugh. "Men enough have died overthis affair already. That fellow Garnache left some bodies on our handslast night before he set out for another world himself. You little dreamhow far my daring goes in this matter. I'll add as many more as needbe to the death roll that we have already, before you set foot inCondillac. "

"Ah!" said Florimond, as one upon whose mind a light breaks suddenly. "So, that is the business on which you come to me. I doubted yourbrotherliness, I must confess, my dear Marius. But tell me, brothermine, what of our father's wishes in this matter? Have you no respectfor those?"

"What respect had you?" flashed back Marius, his voice now raised inanger. "Was it like a lover to remain away for three years--to let allthat time go by without ever a word from you to your betrothed? Whathave you done to make good your claim to her?"

"Nothing, I confess; yet--"

"Well, you shall do something now, " exclaimed Marius, rising. "I am hereto afford you the opportunity. If you would still win Mademoiselle de LaVauvraye, you shall win her from me--at point of sword. Fortunio, see tothe door. "

"Wait, Marius!" cried Florimond, and he looked genuinely aghast. "Do notforget that we are brothers, men of the same blood; that my father wasyour father. "

"I choose to remember rather that we are rivals, " answered Marius, andhe drew his rapier. Fortunio turned the key in the lock. Florimond gavehis brother a long searching look, then with a sigh he picked up hissword where it lay ready to his hand and thoughtfully unsheathed it. Holding the hilt in one hand and the blade in the other he stood, bending the weapon like a whip, whilst again he searchingly regarded hisbrother. 

"Hear me a moment, " said he. "If you will force this unnatural quarrelupon me, at least let the thing be decently done. Not here, not in thesecramped quarters, but out in the open let our meeting take place. If thecaptain, there, will act for you, I'll find a friend to do me the likeservice. "

"We settle this matter here and now, " Marius answered him, in a tone ofcalm finality. 

"But if I were to kill you--" Florimond began. 

"Reassure yourself, " said Marius with an ugly smile. 

"Very well, then; either alternative will suit the case I wish to put. If you were to kill me--it may be ranked as murder. The irregularity ofit could not be overlooked. "

"The captain, here, will act for both of us. "

"I am entirely at your service, gentlemen, " replied Fortunio pleasantly, bowing to each in turn. 

Florimond considered him. "I do not like his looks, " he objected. "Hemay be the friend of your bosom, Marius; you may have no secrets fromhim; but for my part, frankly, I should prefer the presence of somefriend of my own to keep his blade engaged. "

The Marquis's manner was affable in the extreme. Now that it was settledthat they must fight, he appeared to have cast aside all scruples basedupon their consanguinity, and he discussed the affair with the greatestbonhomie, as though he were disposing of a matter of how they should sitdown to table. 

It gave them pause. The change was too abrupt. They did not like it. It was as the calm that screens some surprise. Yet it was impossible heshould have been forewarned; impossible he could have had word of howthey proposed to deal with him. 

Marius shrugged his shoulders. 

"There is reason in what you say, " he acknowledged; "but I am in haste. I cannot wait while you go in search of a friend. "

"Why then, " he answered, with a careless laugh, "I must raise one fromthe dead. "

Both stared at him. Was he mad? Had the fever touched his brain?Was that healthy colour but the brand of a malady that rendered himdelirious?

"Dieu! How you stare!" he continued, laughing in their faces. "You shallsee something to compensate you for your journey, messieurs. I havelearnt some odd tricks in Italy; they are a curious people beyond theAlps. What did you say was the name of the man the Queen had sent fromParis?--he who lies at the bottom of the moat of Condillac?"

"Let there be an end to this jesting, " growled Marius. "On guard, Monsieur le Marquis!"

"Patience! patience!" Florimond implored him. "You shall have your waywith me, I promise you. But of your charity, messieurs, tell me firstthe name of that man. "

"It was Garnache, " said Fortunio, "and if the information will serveyou, it was I who slew him. "

"You?" cried Florimond. "Tell me of it, I beg you. "

"Do you fool us?" questioned Marius in a rage that overmastered hisastonishment, his growing suspicion that here all was not quite as itseemed. 

"Fool you? But no. I do but wish to show you something that I learned inItaly. Tell me how you slew him, Monsieur le Capitaine. "

"I think we are wasting time, " said the captain, angry too. He felt thatthis smiling gentleman was deriding the pair of them; it crossed hismind that for some purpose of his own the Marquis was seeking to gaintime. He drew his sword. 

Florimond saw the act, watched it, and his eyes twinkled. SuddenlyMarius's sword shot out at him. He leapt back beyond the table, andthrew himself on guard, his lips still wreathed in their mysterioussmile. 

"The time has come, messieurs, " said he. "I should have preferred toknow more of how you slew that Monsieur de Garnache; but since you denyme the information, I shall do my best without it. I'll try to conjureup his ghost, to keep you entertained, Monsieur le Capitaine. " And then, raising his voice, his sword, engaging now his brother's:

"Ola, Monsieur de Garnache!" he cried. "To me!"

And then it seemed to those assassins that the Marquis had been neithermad nor boastful when he had spoken of strange things he hadlearned beyond the Alps, or else it was they themselves were turnedlight-headed, for the doors of a cupboard at the far end of the roomflew open suddenly, and from between them stepped the stalwart figure ofMartin de Garnache, a grim smile lifting the corners of his mustachios, a naked sword in his hand flashing back the sunlight that floodedthrough the window. 

They paused, aghast, and they turned ashen; and then in the mind of eacharose the same explanation of this phenomenon. This Garnache wore theappearance of the man who had announced himself by that name when hecame to Condillac a fortnight ago. Then, the sallow, black-haired knavewho had last night proclaimed himself as Garnache in disguise was someimpostor. That was the conclusion they promptly arrived at, and howevergreatly they might be dismayed by the appearance of this ally ofFlorimond's, yet the conclusion heartened them anew. But scarce had theyarrived at it when Monsieur de Garnache's crisp voice came swiftly todispel it. 

"Monsieur le Capitaine, " it said, and Fortunio shivered at the sound, for it was the voice he had heard but a few hours ago, "I welcome theopportunity of resuming our last night's interrupted sword-play. " And headvanced deliberately. 

Marius's sword had fallen away from his brother's, and the twocombatants stood pausing. Fortunio without more ado made for the door. But Garnache crossed the intervening space in a bound. 

"Turn!" he cried. "Turn, or I'll put my sword through your back. Thedoor shall serve you presently, but it is odds that it will need acouple of men to bear you through it. Look to your dirty skin!"

CHAPTER XXII. THE OFFICES OF MOTHER CHURCH

A couple of hours after the engagement in the Marquis de Condillac'sapartments at the Sanglier Noir at La Rochette, Monsieur de Garnache, attended only by Rabecque, rode briskly into France once more and madefor the little town of Cheylas, which is on the road that leads down tothe valley of the Isere and to Condillac. But not as far as the townshipdid he journey. On a hill, the slopes all cultivated into an opulentvineyard, some two miles east of Cheylas, stood the low, square greybuilding of the Convent of Saint Francis. Thither did Monsieur deGarnache bend his horse's steps. Up the long white road that creptzigzag through the Franciscans' vineyards rode the Parisian and hisservant under the welcome sunshine of that November afternoon. 

Garnache's face was gloomy and his eyes sad, for his thoughts were allof Valerie, and he was prey to a hundred anxieties regarding her. 

They gained the heights at last, and Rabecque got down to beat with hiswhip upon the convent gates. 

A lay-brother came to open, and in reply to Garnache's request that hemight have a word with the Father Abbot, invited him to enter. 

Through the cloisters about the great quadrangle, where a couple ofmonks, their habits girt high as their knees, were busy at gardeners'work, Garnache followed his conductor, and up the steps to the Abbot'schamber. 

The master of the Convent' of Saint Francis of Cheylas a tall, leanman with an ascetic face, prominent cheekbones, and a nose not unlikeGarnache's own--the nose of a man of action rather than of prayer--bowedgravely to this stalwart stranger, and in courteous accents begged to beinformed in what he might serve him. 

Hat in hand, Garnache took a step forward in that bare, scantilyfurnished little room, permeated by the faint, waxlike odour that ispeculiar to the abode of conventuals. Without hesitation he stated thereason of his visit. 

"Father, " said he, "a son of the house of Condillac met his end thismorning at La Rochette. "

The monk's eyes seemed to quicken, as though his interest in the outerworld had suddenly revived. 

"It is the Hand of God, " he cried. "Their evil ways have provoked atlast the anger of Heaven. How did this unfortunate meet his death?"

Garnache shrugged his shoulders. 

"De mortuis nil nisi bonum, " said he. His air was grave, his blue eyessolemn, and the Abbot had little cause to suspect the closeness withwhich that pair of eyes was watching him. He coloured faintly atthe implied rebuke, but he inclined his head as if submissive to thecorrection, and waited for the other to proceed. 

"There is the need, Father, to give his body burial, " said Garnachegently. 

But at that the monk raised his head, and a deeper flush the flush ofanger--spread now upon his sallow cheeks. Garnache observed it, and wasglad. 

"Why do you come to me?" he asked. 

"Why?" echoed Garnache, and there was hesitancy now in his voice. "Isnot the burial of the dead enjoined by Mother Church? Is it not a partof your sacred office?"

"You ask me this as you would challenge my reply, " said the monk, shaking his head. "It is as you say, but it is not within our office tobury the impious dead, nor those who in life were excommunicate and diedwithout repentance. "

"How can you assume he died without repentance?"

"I do not; but I assume he died without absolution, for there is nopriest who, knowing his name, would dare to shrive him, and if oneshould do it in ignorance of his name and excommunication, why then itis not done at all. Bid others bury this son of the house of Condillac;it matters no more by what hands or in what ground he be buried than ifhe were the horse he rode or the hound that followed him. "

"The Church is very harsh, Father, " said Garnache sternly. 

"The Church is very just, " the priest answered him, more sternly still, a holy wrath kindling his sombre eyes. 

"He was in life a powerful noble, " said Garnache thoughtfully. "It isbut fitting that, being dead, honour and reverence should be shown hisbody. "

"Then let those who have themselves been honoured by the Condillacshonour this dead Condillac now. The Church is not of that number, monsieur. Since the late Marquis's death the house of Condillac has beenin rebellion against us; our priests have been maltreated, our authorityflouted; they paid no tithes, approached no sacraments. Weary of theirungodliness the Church placed its ban upon them under this ban it seemsthey die. My heart grieves for them; but--"

He spread his hands, long and almost transparent in their leanness, andon his face a cloud of sorrow rested. 

"Nevertheless, Father, " said Garnache, "twenty brothers of Saint Francisshall bear the body home to Condillac, and you yourself shall head thisgrim procession. "

"I?" The monk shrank back before him, and his figure seemed to growtaller. "Who are you, sir, that say to me what I shall do, the Church'slaw despite?"

Garnache took the Abbot by the sleeve of his rough habit and drew himgently towards the window. There was a persuasive smile on his lips andin his keen eyes which the monk, almost unconsciously, obeyed. 

"I will tell you, " said Garnache, "and at the same time I shall seek toturn you from your harsh purpose. "

At the hour at which Monsieur de Garnache was seeking to persuade theAbbot of Saint Francis of Cheylas to adopt a point of view more kindlytowards a dead man, Madame de Condillac was at dinner, and with herwas Valerie de La Vauvraye. Neither woman ate appreciably. The one wasoppressed by sorrow, the other by anxiety, and the circumstance thatthey were both afflicted served perhaps to render the Dowager gentler inher manner towards the girl. 

She watched the pale face and troubled eyes of Valerie; she observed thealmost lifeless manner in which she came and went as she was bidden, asthough a part of her had ceased to exist, and that part the part thatmatters most. It did cross her mind that in this condition mademoisellemight the more readily be bent to their will, but she dwelt not overlongupon that reflection. Rather was her mood charitable, no doubt becauseshe felt herself the need of charity, the want of sympathy. 

She was tormented by fears altogether disproportionate to their cause. A hundred times she told herself that no ill could befall Marius. Florimond was a sick man, and were he otherwise, there was stillFortunio to stand by and see to it that the right sword pierced theright heart, else would his pistoles be lost to him. 

Nevertheless she was fretted by anxiety, and she waited impatiently fornews, fuming at the delay, yet knowing full well that news could not yetreach her. 

Once she reproved Valerie for her lack of appetite, and there was inher voice a kindness Valerie had not heard for months--not since the oldMarquis died, nor did she hear it now, or, hearing it, she did not heedit. 

"You are not eating, child, " the Dowager said, and her eyes were gentle. 

Valerie looked up like one suddenly awakened; and in that moment hereyes filled with tears. It was as if the Dowager's voice had opened thefloodgates of her sorrow and let out the tears that hitherto had beenrepressed. The Marquise rose and waved the page and an attendant lackeyfrom the room. She crossed to Valerie's side and put her arm about thegirl's shoulder. 

"What ails you, child?" she asked. For a moment the girl suffered thecaress; almost she seemed to nestle closer to the Dowager's shoulder. Then, as if understanding had come to her suddenly, she drew back andquietly disengaged herself from the other's arms. Her tears ceased; thequiver passed from her lip. 

"You are very good, madame, " she said, with a coldness that rendered thecourteous words almost insulting, "but nothing ails me save a wish to bealone. "

"You have been alone too much of late, " the Dowager answered, persistingin her wish to show kindness to Valerie; for all that, had she lookedinto her own heart, she might have been puzzled to find a reason for hermood--unless the reason lay in her own affliction of anxiety for Marius. 

"Perhaps I have, " said the girl, in the same cold, almost strainedvoice. "It was not by my own contriving. "

"Ah, but it was, child; indeed it was. Had you been reasonable you hadfound us kinder. We had never treated you as we have done, never made aprisoner of you. "

Valerie looked up into the beautiful ivory-white face, with its blackeyes and singularly scarlet lips, and a wan smile raised the corners ofher gentle mouth. 

"You had no right--none ever gave it you--to set constraint andrestraint upon me. "

"I had--indeed, indeed I had, " the Marquise answered her, in a tone ofsad protest. "Your father gave me such a right when he gave me charge ofyou. "

"Was it a part of your charge to seek to turn me from my loyalty toFlorimond, and endeavour to compel me by means gentle or ungentle intomarriage with Marius?"

"We thought Florimond dead; or, if not dead, then certainly unworthy ofyou to leave you without news of him for years together. And if he wasnot dead then, it is odds he will be dead by now. " The words slippedout almost unconsciously, and the Marquise bit her lip and straightenedherself, fearing an explosion. But none came. The girl looked acrossthe table at the fire that smouldered on the hearth in need of beingreplenished. 

"What do you mean, madame?" she asked; but her tone was listless, apathetic, as of one who though uttering a question is incurious as towhat the answer may be. 

"We had news some days ago that he was journeying homewards, but that hewas detained by fever at La Rochette. We have since heard that his feverhas grown so serious that there is little hope of his recovery. "

"And it was to solace his last moments that Monsieur Marius leftCondillac this morning?"

The Dowager looked sharply at the girl; but Valerie's face continuedaverted, her gaze resting on the fire. Her tone suggested nothing beyonda natural curiosity. 

"Yes, " said the Dowager. 

"And lest his own efforts to help his brother out of this world shouldprove insufficient he took Captain Fortunio with him?" said Valerie, inthe same indifferent voice. 

"What do you mean?" the Marquise almost hissed into the girl's ear. 

Valerie turned to her, a faint colour stirring in her white face. 

"Just what I have said, madame. Would you know what I have prayed?All night was I upon my knees from the moment that I recoveredconsciousness, and my prayers were that Heaven might see fit to letFlorimond destroy your son. Not that I desire Florimond's return, forI care not if I never set eyes on him again. There is a curse upon thishouse, madame, " the girl continued, rising from her chair and speakingnow with a greater animation, whilst the Marquise recoiled a step, herface strangely altered and suddenly gone grey, "and I have prayedthat that curse might be worked out upon that assassin, Marius. A finehusband, madame, you would thrust upon the daughter of Gaston de LaVauvraye. "

And turning, without waiting for an answer, she moved slowly downthe room, and took her way to her own desolate apartments, so full ofmemories of him she mourned--of him, it seemed to her, she must alwaysmourn; of him who lay dead in the black waters of the moat beneath herwindow. 

Stricken with a sudden, inexplicable terror, the Dowager, who forall her spirit was not without a certain superstition, felt her kneesloosen, and she sank limply into a chair. She was amazed at the extentof Valerie's knowledge, and puzzled by it; she was amazed, too, at theseeming apathy of Valerie for the danger in which Florimond stood, andat her avowal that she did not care if she never again beheld him. Butsuch amazement as came to her was whelmed fathoms-deep in her suddenfears for Marius. If he should die! She grew cold at the thought, andshe sat there, her hands folded in her lap, her face grey. That mentionof the curse the Church had put upon them had frozen her quick blood andturned her stout spirit to mere water. 

At last she rose and went out into the open to inquire if no messengerhad yet arrived, for all that she knew there was not yet time for anymessenger to have reached the chateau. She mounted the winding staircaseof stone that led to the ramparts, and there alone, in the Novembersunshine, she paced to and fro for hours, waiting for news, strainingher eyes to gaze up the valley of the Isere, watching for the horsemanthat must come that way. Then, as time sped on and the sun approachedits setting and still no one came, she bethought her that if harm hadbefallen Marius, none would ride that night to Condillac. This verydelay seemed pregnant with news of disaster. And then she shook off herfears and tried to comfort herself. There was not yet time. Besides, what had she to fear for Marius? He was strong and quick, and Fortuniowas by his side. A man was surely dead by now at La Rochette; but thatman could not be Marius. 

At last, in the distance, she espied a moving object, and down on thesilent air of eventide came the far-off rattle of a horse's hoofs. Someone was riding, galloping that way. He was returned at last. She leanedon the battlements, her breath coming in quick, short gasps, and watchedthe horseman growing larger with every stride of his horse. 

A mist was rising from the river, and it dimmed the figure; and shecursed the mist for heightening her anxiety, for straining furtherher impatience. Then a new fear was begotten in her mind. Why came onehorseman only where two should have ridden? Who was it that returned, and what had befallen his companion? God send, at least, it might beMarius who rode thus, at such a breakneck pace. 

At last she could make him out. He was close to the chateau now, and shenoticed that his right arm was bandaged and hanging in a sling. And thena scream broke from her, and she bit her lip hard to keep another incheck, for she had seen the horseman's face, and it was Fortunio's. Fortunio--and wounded! Then, assuredly, Marius was dead!

She swayed where she stood. She set her hand on her bosom, above herheart, as if she would have repressed the beating of the one, theheaving of the other; her soul sickened, and her mind seemed to turnnumb, as she waited there for the news that should confirm her fears. 

The hoofs of his horse thundered over the planks of the drawbridge, and came clatteringly to halt as he harshly drew rein in the courtyardbelow. There was a sound of running feet and men sprang to hisassistance. Madame would have gone below to meet him; but her limbsseemed to refuse their office. She leaned against one of the merlons ofthe embattled parapet, her eyes on the spot where he should emerge fromthe stairs, and thus she waited, her eyes haggard, her face drawn. 

He came at last, lurching in his walk, being overstiff from his longride. She took a step forward to meet him. Her lips parted. 

"Well?" she asked him, and her voice sounded harsh and strained. "Howhas the venture sped?"

"The only way it could, " he answered. "As you would wish it. "

At that she thought that she must faint. Het lungs seemed to writhe forair, and she opened her lips and took long draughts of the rising mist, never speaking for a moment or two until she had sufficiently recoveredfrom this tremendous revulsion from her fears. 

"Then, where is Marius?" she asked at last. 

"He has remained behind to accompany the body home. They are bringing ithere. "

"They?" she echoed. "Who are they?"

"The monks of Saint Francis of Cheylas, " he answered. 

A something in his tone, a something in his shifty eyes, a cloud uponhis fair and usually so ingenuous looking countenance aroused hersuspicions and gave her resurrected courage pause. 

She caught him viciously by the arms, and forced his glance to meet herown in the fading daylight. 

"It is the truth you are telling me, Fortunio?" she snapped, and hervoice was half-angry, half-fearful. 

He faced her now, his eyes bold. He raised a hand to lend emphasis tohis words. 

"I swear, madame, by my salvation, that Monsieur Marius is sound andwell. "

She was satisfied. She released his arm. 

"Does he come to-night?" she asked. 

"They will be here to-morrow, madame. I rode on to tell you so. "

"An odd fancy, this of his. But"--and a sudden smile overspread herface--"we may find a more useful purpose for one of these monks. "

An hour ago she would willingly have set mademoiselle at liberty inexchange for the assurance that Marius had been successful in thebusiness that had taken him over the border into Savoy. She would havedone it gladly, content that Marius should be heir to Condillac. Butnow that Condillac was assured her son, she must have more for him; herinsatiable greed for his advancement and prosperity was again uponher. Now, more than ever--now that Florimond was dead--must she have LaVauvraye for Marius, and she thought that mademoiselle would no longerbe difficult to bend. The child had fallen in love with that madGarnache, and when a woman is crossed in love, while her grief lastsit matters little to her where she weds. Did she not know it out of thefund of her own bitter experience? Was it not that--the compulsion herown father had employed to make her find a mate in a man so much olderthan herself as Condillac--that had warped her own nature, and done muchto make her what she was?

A lover she had had, and whilst he lived she had resisted them, andstood out against this odious marriage that for convenience' sake theyforced upon her. He was killed in Paris in a duel, and when the news ofit came to her, she had folded her hands and let them wed her to whomthey listed. 

Of just such a dejection of spirit had she observed the signs inValerie; let them profit by it while it lasted. They had been longenough without Church ceremonies at Condillac. There should be twoto-morrow to make up for the empty time--a wedding and a burial. 

She was going down the stairs, Fortunio a step behind her, when her mindreverted to the happening at La Rochette. 

"Was it well done?" she asked. 

"It made some stir, " said he. "The Marquis had men with him, and had theaffair taken place in France ill might have come of it. "

"You shall give me a full account of it, " said she, rightly thinkingthat there was still something to be explained. Then she laughedsoftly. "Yes, it was a lucky chance for us, his staying at La Rochette. Florimond was born under an unlucky star, I think, and you under a luckyone, Fortunio. "

"I think so, too, as regards myself, " he answered grimly, and he thoughtof the sword that had ploughed his cheek last night and pierced hissword-arm that morning, and he thanked such gods as in his godlessnesshe owned for the luck that had kept that sword from finding out hisheart. 

CHAPTER XXIII. THE JUDGMENT OF GARNACHE

On the morrow, which was a Friday and the tenth of November--a date tobe hereafter graven on the memory of all concerned in the affairs ofCondillac--the Dowager rose betimes, and, for decency's sake, having inmind the business of the day, she gowned herself in black. 

Betimes, too, the Lord Seneschal rode out of Grenoble, attended bya couple of grooms, and headed for Condillac, in doing which--littlethough he suspected it--he was serving nobody's interests morethoroughly than Monsieur de Garnache's. 

Madame received him courteously. She was in a blithe--and happy moodthat morning--the reaction from her yesterday's distress of mind. Theworld was full of promise, and all things had prospered with her andMarius. Her boy was lord of Condillac; Florimond, whom she had hated andwho had stood in the way of her boy's advancement, was dead and on hisway to burial; Garnache, the man from Paris who might have made troublefor them had he ridden home again with the tale of their resistance, wassilenced for all time, and the carp in the moat would be feasting bynow upon what was left of him; Valerie de La Vauvraye was in a dejectedframe of mind that augured well for the success of the Dowager'splans concerning her, and by noon at latest there would be priests atCondillac, and, if Marius still wished to marry the obstinate baggage, there would be no difficulty as to that. 

It was a glorious morning, mild and sunny as an April day, as thoughNature took a hand in the Dowager's triumph and wished to make the bestof its wintry garb in honour of it. 

The presence of this gross suitor of hers afforded her another sourceof satisfaction. There would no longer be the necessity she once haddreaded of listening to his suit for longer than it should be herpleasure to be amused by him. But when Tressan spoke, he struck thefirst note of discord in the perfect harmony which the Dowager imaginedexisted. 

"Madame, " said he, "I am desolated that I am not a bearer of bettertidings. But for all that we have made the most diligent search, theman Rabecque has not yet been apprehended. Still, we have not abandonedhope, " he added, by way of showing that there was a silver lining to hiscloud of danger. 

For just a moment madame's brows were knitted. She had forgottenRabecque until now; but an instant's reflection assured her that inforgetting him she had done him no more than such honour as he deserved. She laughed, as she led the way down the garden steps--the mildness ofthe day and the brightness of her mood had moved her there to receivethe Seneschal. 

"From the sombreness of your tone one might fear your news to be of thenature of some catastrophe. What shall it signify that Rabecque eludesyour men? He is but a lackey after all. "

"True, " said the Seneschal, very soberly; "but do not forget, I beg, that he is the bearer of letters from one who is not a lackey. "

The laughter went out of her face at that. Here was something that hadbeen lost sight of in the all-absorbing joy of other things. In callingthe forgotten Rabecque to mind she had but imagined that it was no morethan a matter of the tale he might tell--a tale not difficult to refute, she thought. Her word should always weigh against a lackey's. But thatletter was a vastly different matter. 

"He must be found, Tressan, " she said sharply. 

Tressan smiled uneasily, and chewed at his beard. 

"No effort shall be spared, " he promised her. "Of that you may be verysure. The affairs of the province are at a standstill, " he added, thatvanity of his for appearing a man of infinite business rising even inan hour of such anxiety, for to himself, no less than to her, wasthere danger should Rabecque ever reach his destination with the papersGarnache had said he carried. 

"The affairs of the province are at a standstill, " he repeated, "whileall my energies are bent upon this quest. Should we fail to have news ofhis capture in Dauphiny, we need not, nevertheless, despond. I havesent men after him along the three roads that lead to Paris. They are tospare neither money nor horses in picking up his trail and effecting hiscapture. After all, I think we shall have him. "

"He is our only danger now, " the Marquise answered, "for Florimond isdead--of the fever, " she added, with a sneering smile which gave Tressansensations as of cold water on his spine. "It were an irony of fate ifthat miserable lackey were to reach Paris now and spoil the triumph forwhich we have worked so hard. "

"It were, indeed, " Tressan agreed with her, "and we must see that hedoes not. "

"But if he does, " she returned, "then we must stand together. " And withthat she set her mind at ease once more, her mood that morning beingvery optimistic. 

"Always, I hope, Clotilde, " he answered, and his little eyes leered upout of the dimples of fat in which they were embedded. "I have stood byyou like a true friend in this affair; is it not so?"

"Indeed; do I deny it?" she answered half scornfully. 

"As I shall stand by you always when the need arises. You are a littlein my debt concerning Monsieur de Garnache. "

"I--I realize it, " said she, and she felt again as if the sunshine weregone from the day, the blitheness from her heart. She was moved tobid him cease leering at her and to take himself and his wooing to thedevil. But she bethought her that the need for him might not yetutterly be passed. Not only in the affair of Garnache--in which he stoodimplicated as deeply as herself--might she require his loyalty, but alsoin the matter of what had befallen yesterday at La Rochette; for despiteFortunio's assurances that things had gone smoothly, his tale hung nonetoo convincingly together; and whilst she did not entertain any seriousfear of subsequent trouble, yet it might be well not utterly to banishthe consideration of such a possibility, and to keep the Seneschal herally against it. So she told him now, with as much graciousness as shecould command, that she fully realized her debt, and when, encouraged, he spoke of his reward, she smiled upon him as might a girl smile upontoo impetuous a wooer whose impetuosity she deprecates yet cannot whollywithstand. 

"I am a widow of six months, " she reminded him, as she had reminded himonce before. Her widowhood was proving a most convenient refuge. "It isnot for me to listen to a suitor, however my foolish heart may incline. Come to me in another six months' time. "

"And you will wed me then?" he bleated. 

By an effort her eyes smiled down upon him, although her face was atrifle drawn. 

"Have I not said that I will listen to no suitor? and what is that but asuitor's question?"

He caught her hand; he would have fallen on his knees there and then, ather feet, on the grass still wet with the night's mist, but that he intime bethought him of how sadly his fine apparel would be the sufferer. 

"Yet I shall not sleep, I shall know no rest, no peace until you havegiven me an answer. Just an answer is all I ask. I will set a curb uponmy impatience afterwards, and go through my period of ah--probationwithout murmuring. Say that you, will marry me in six months' time--atEaster, say. "

She saw that an answer she must give, and so she gave him the answerthat he craved. And he--poor fool!--never caught the ring of her voice, as false as the ring of a base coin; never guessed that in promising shetold herself it would be safe to break that promise six months hence, when the need of him and his loyalty would be passed. 

A man approached them briskly from the chateau. He brought news that anumerous company of monks was descending the valley of the Isere towardsCondillac. A faint excitement stirred her, and accompanied by Tressanshe retraced her steps and made for the battlements, whence she mightoverlook their arrival. 

As they went Tressan asked for an explanation of this cortege, and sheanswered him with Fortunio's story of how things had sped yesterday atLa Rochette. 

Up the steps leading to the battlements she went ahead of him, witha youthful, eager haste that took no thought for the corpulence andshort-windedness of the following Seneschal. From the heights she lookedeastwards, shading her eyes from the light of the morning sun, andsurveyed the procession which with slow dignity paced down the valleytowards Condillac. 

At its head walked the tall, lean figure of the Abbot of Saint Francisof Cheylas, bearing on high a silvered crucifix that flashed andscintillated in the sunlight. His cowl was thrown back, revealing hispale, ascetic countenance and shaven head. Behind him came a coffincovered by a black pall, and borne on the shoulders of six black-robed, black cowled monks, and behind these again walked, two by two, somefourteen cowled brothers of the order of Saint Francis, their headsbowed, their arms folded, and their hands tucked away in their capacioussleeves. 

It was a numerous cortege, and as she watched its approach the Marquisewas moved to wonder by what arguments had the proud Abbot been inducedto do so much honour to a dead Condillac and bear his body home to thisexcommunicated roof. 

Behind the monks a closed carriage lumbered down the uneven mountainway, and behind this rode four mounted grooms in the livery ofCondillac. Of Marius she saw nowhere any sign, and she inferred him tobe travelling in that vehicle, the attendant servants being those of thedead Marquis. 

In silence, with the Seneschal at her elbow, she watched the processionadvance until it was at the foot of the drawbridge. Then, while thesolemn rhythm of their feet sounded across the planks that spanned themoat, she turned, and, signing to the Seneschal to follow her, she wentbelow to meet them. But when she reached the courtyard she was surprisedto find they had not paused, as surely would have been seemly. Unbidden, the Abbot had gone forward through the great doorway and down thegallery that led to the hall of Condillac. Already, when she arrivedbelow, the coffin and its bearers had disappeared, and the last of themonks was passing from sight in its wake. Leaning against the doorwaythrough which they were vanishing stood Fortunio, idly watching thatprocession and thoughtfully stroking his mustachios. About the yardlounged a dozen or so men-at-arms, practically all the garrison that wasleft them since the fight with Garnache two nights ago. 

After the last monk had disappeared, she still remained there, expectantly; and when she saw that neither the carriage nor the groomsmade their appearance, she stepped up to Fortunio to inquire into thereason of it. 

"Surely Monsieur de Condillac rides in that coach, " said she. 

"Surely, " Fortunio answered, himself looking puzzled. "I will go seekthe reason, madame. Meanwhile will you receive the Abbot? The monks willhave deposited their burden. "

She composed her features into a fitting solemnity, and passed brisklythrough to the hall, Tressan ever at her heels. Here she foundthe coffin deposited on the table, its great black pall of velvet, silver-edged, sweeping down to the floor. No fire had been lighted thatmorning nor had the sun yet reached the windows, so that the place worea chill and gloomy air that was perhaps well attuned to the purpose thatit was being made to serve. 

With a rare dignity, her head held high, she swept down the length ofthat noble chamber towards the Abbot, who stood erect as a pikestaff: atthe tablehead, awaiting her. And well was it for him that he was a manof austere habit of mind, else might her majestic, incomparable beautyhave softened his heart and melted the harshness of his purpose. 

He raised his hand when she was within a sword's length of him, andwith startling words, delivered in ringing tones, he broke the ponderoussilence. 

"Wretched woman, " he denounced her, "your sins have found you out. Justice is to be done, and your neck shall be bent despite your stubbornpride. Derider of priests, despoiler of purity, mocker of Holy Church, your impious reign is at an end. "

Tressan fell back aghast, his face blenching to the lips; for if justicewas at hand for her, as the Abbot said, then was justice at hand forhim as well. Where had their plans miscarried? What flaw was there thathitherto she had not perceived? Thus he questioned himself in his suddenpanic. 

But the Marquise was no sharer in his tremors. Her eyes opened a triflewider; a faint colour crept into her cheeks; but her only emotions wereof amazement and indignation. Was he mad, this shaveling monk? That wasthe question that leapt into her mind, the very question with which shecoldly answered his outburst. 

"For madness only, " she thought fit to add, "could excuse such rashtemerity as yours. "

"Not madness, madame, " he answered, with chill haughtiness--"notmadness, but righteous indignation. You have defied the power of HolyChurch as you have defied the power of our sovereign lady, and justiceis upon you. We are here to present the reckoning, and see its paymentmade in full. "

She fancied he alluded to the body in the coffin--the body of herstepson--and she could have laughed at his foolish conclusions thatshe must account Florimond's death an act of justice upon her for herimpiety. But her rising anger left her no room for laughter. 

"I thought, sir priest, you were come to bury the dead. But it ratherseems you are come to talk. "

He looked at her long and sternly. Then he shook his head, and thefaintest shadow of a smile haunted his ascetic face. 

"Not to talk, madame; oh, not to talk, " he answered slowly. "But to act, I have come, madame, to liberate from this shambles the gentle lamb youhold here prisoned. "

At that some of the colour left her cheeks; her eyes grew startled: atlast she began to realize that all was not as she had thought--as shehad been given to understand. --Still, she sought to hector it, from veryinstinct. 

"Vertudieu!" she thundered at him. "What mean you?"

Behind her Tressan's great plump knees were knocking one against theother. Fool that he had been to come to Condillac that day, and to betrapped thus in her company, a partner in her guilt. This proud Abbotwho stood there uttering denunciations had some power behind him, else had he never dared to raise his voice in Condillac within call ofdesperate men who would give little thought to the sacredness, of hisoffice. 

"What mean you?" she repeated--adding with a sinister smile, "in yourzeal, Sir Abbot, you are forgetting that my men are within call. "

"So, madame, are mine, " was his astounding answer, and he waved a handtowards the array of monks, all standing with bowed heads and foldedarms. 

At that her laughter rang shrill through the chamber. "These poorshavelings?" she questioned. 

"Just these poor shavelings, madame, " he answered, and he raised hishand again and made a sign. And then an odd thing happened, and itstruck a real terror into the heart of the Marquise and heightened thatwhich was already afflicting her fat lover, Tressan. 

The monks drew themselves erect. It was as if a sudden gust of wind hadswept through their ranks and set them all in motion. Cowls fell backand habits were swept aside, and where twenty monks had stood, therewere standing now a score of nimble, stalwart men in the livery ofCondillac, all fully armed, all grinning in enjoyment of her andTressan's dismay. 

One of them turned aside and locked the door of the chamber. But hismovement went unheeded by the Dowager, whose beautiful eyes, startingwith horror, were now back upon the grim figure of the Abbot, marvellingalmost to see no transformation wrought in him. 

"Treachery!" she breathed, in an awful voice, that was no louder thana whisper, and again her eyes travelled round the company, and suddenlythey fastened upon Fortunio, standing six paces from her to the right, pulling thoughtfully at his mustachios, and manifesting no surprise atwhat had taken place. 

In a sudden, blind choler, she swept round, plucked the dagger fromTressan's belt and flung herself upon the treacherous captain. He hadbetrayed her in some way; he had delivered up Condillac--into whosepower she had yet had no time to think. She caught him by the throatwith a hand of such nervous strength as one would little have suspectedfrom its white and delicate contour. Her dagger was poised in the air, and the captain, taken thus suddenly, was palsied with amazement andcould raise no hand to defend himself from the blow impending. 

But the Abbot stepped suddenly to her side and caught her wrist in histhin, transparent hand. 

"Forbear, " he bade her. "The man is but a tool. "

She fell back--dragged back almost by the Abbot--panting with rage andgrief; and then she noticed that during the moment that her back hadbeen turned the pall had been swept from the coffin. The sight of thebare deal box arrested her attention, and for the moment turned asideher anger. What fresh surprise did they prepare her?

No sooner had she asked herself the question than herself she answeredit, and an icy hand seemed to close about her heart. It was Marius whowas dead. They had lied to her. Marius's was the body they had borne toCondillac--those men in the livery of her stepson. 

With a sudden sob in her throat she took a step towards the coffin. Shemust see for herself. One way or the other she must at once dispel thistorturing doubt. But ere she had taken three paces, she stood arrestedagain, her hands jerked suddenly to the height of her breast, her lipsparting to let out a scream of terror. For the coffin-lid had slowlyraised and clattered over. And as if to pile terror for her, a figurerose from the box, and, sitting up, looked round with a grim smile; andthe figure was the figure of a man whom she knew to be dead, a manwho had died by her contriving--it was the figure of Garnache. Itwas Garnache as he had been on the occasion of his first coming toCondillac, as he had been on the day they had sought his life in thisvery room. How well she knew that great hooked nose and the bright, steely blue eyes, the dark brown hair, ash-coloured at the temples whereage had paled it, and the fierce, reddish mustachios, bristling abovethe firm mouth and long, square chin. 

She stared and stared, her beautiful face livid and distorted, tillthere was no beauty to be seen in it, what time the Abbot regarded hercoldly and Tressan, behind her, turned almost sick with terror. But notthe terror of ghosts was it afflicted him. He saw in Garnache a man whowas still of the quick--a man who by some miracle had escaped the fateto which they supposed him to have succumbed; and his terror was theterror of the reckoning which that man would ask. 

After a moment's pause, as if relishing the sensation he had created, Garnache rose to his feet and leapt briskly to the ground. There wasnothing ghostly about the thud with which he alighted on his feet beforeher. A part of her terror left her; yet not quite all. She saw that shehad but a man to deal with, yet she began to realize that this man wasvery terrible. 

"Garnache again!" she gasped. 

He bowed serenely, his lips smiling. 

"Aye, madame, " he told her pleasantly, "always Garnache. Tenacious asa leech, madame; and like a leech come hither to do a little work ofpurification. "

Her eyes, now kindling again as she recovered from her recent fears, sought Fortunio's shifty glance. Garnache followed it and read what wasin her mind. 

"What Fortunio has done, " said he, "he has done by your son's authorityand sanction. "

"Marius?" she inquired, and she was almost fearful lest she should hearthat by her son he meant her stepson, and that Marius was dead. 

"Yes, Marius, " he answered her. "I bent him to my will. I threatened himthat he and this fellow of his, this comrade in arms so worthy of hismaster, should be broken on the wheel together unless I were implicitlyobeyed. If they would save their lives, this was their chance. They werewise, and they took it, and thus afforded me the means of penetratinginto Condillac and rescuing Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. "

"Then Marius--?" She left her question unfinished, her hand clutchingnervously at the bosom of her gown. 

"Is sound and well, as Fortunio truthfully will have told you. But he isnot yet out of my grasp, nor will be until the affairs of Condillac aresettled. For if I meet with further opposition here, broken on the wheelhe shall be yet, I promise you. "

Still she made a last attempt at hectoring it. The long habit ofmastership dies hard. She threw back her head; her courage revived nowthat she knew Marius to be alive and sound. 

"Fine words, " she sneered. "But who are you that you can threaten so andpromise so?"

"I am the Queen-Regent's humble mouthpiece, madame. What I threaten, Ithreaten in her name. Ruffle it no longer, I beseech you. It will provelittle worth your while. You are deposed, madame, and you had best takeyour deposition with dignity and calm--in all friendliness do I adviseit. "

"I am not yet come so low that I need your advice, " she answered sourly. 

"You may before the sun sets, " he answered, with his quiet smile. "TheMarquis de Condillac and his wife are still at La Rochette, waitinguntil my business here is done that they may come home. "

"His wife?" she cried. 

"His wife, madame. He has brought home a wife from Italy. "

"Then--then--Marius?" She said no more than that. Maybe she had nointention of muttering even so much of her thoughts aloud. But Garnachecaught the trend of her mind, and he marvelled to see how strong a habitof thought can be. At once upon hearing of the Marquis's marriage hermind had flown back to its wonted pondering of the possibilities ofMarius's wedding Valerie. 

But Garnache dispelled such speculations. 

"No, madame, " said he. "Marius looks elsewhere for a wife--unlessmademoiselle of her own free will should elect to wed him--a thingunlikely. " Then, with a sudden change to sternness--"Mademoiselle de LaVauvraye is well, madame?" he asked. 

She nodded her head, but made no answer in words. He turned to Fortunio. 

"Go fetch her, " he bade the captain, and one of the men unlocked thedoor to let Fortunio out upon that errand. 

The Parisian took a turn in the apartment, and came close to Tressan. He nodded to the Seneschal with a friendliness that turned him sick withfright. 

"Well met, my dear Lord Seneschal. I am rejoiced to find you here. Hadit been otherwise I must have sent for you. There is a little matterto be settled between us. You may depend upon me to settle it to yourpresent satisfaction, if to your future grief. " And, with a smile, hepassed on, leaving the Seneschal too palsied to answer him, too strickento disclaim his share in what had taken place at Condillac. 

"You have terms to make with me?" the Marquise questioned proudly. 

"Certainly, " he answered, with his grim courtesy. "Upon your acceptanceof those terms shall depend Marius's life and your own future liberty. "

"What are they?"

"That within the hour all your people--to the last scullion--shall havelaid down their arms and vacated Condillac. "

It was beyond her power to refuse. 

"The Marquis will not drive me forth?" she half affirmed, half asked. 

"The Marquis, madame, has no power in this matter. It is for the Queento deal with your insubordination--for me as the Queen's emissary. "

"If I consent, monsieur, what then?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled quietly. 

"There is no 'if, ' madame. Consent you must, willingly or unwillingly. To make sure of that have I come back thus and with force. But shouldyou deliver battle, you will be worsted--and it will be very ill foryou. Bid your men depart, as I have told you, and you also shall haveliberty to go hence. "

"Aye, but whither?" she cried, in a sudden frenzy of anger. 

"I realize, madame, from what I know of your circumstances that you willbe well-nigh homeless. You should have thought of how one day you mightcome to be dependent upon the Marquis de Condillac's generosity beforeyou set yourself to conspire against him, before you sought to encompasshis death. You can hardly look for generosity at his hands now, and soyou will be all but homeless, unless--" He paused, and his eyes strayedto Tressan and were laden with a sardonic look. 

"You take a very daring tone with me, " she told him. "You speak to me asno man has ever dared to speak. "

"When the power was yours, madame, you dealt with me as none has everdared to deal. The advantage now is mine. Behold how I use it in yourown interests; observe how generously I shall deal with you who deal inmurder. Monsieur de Tressan, " he called briskly. The Seneschal startedforward as if some one had prodded him suddenly. 

"Mu--monsieur?" said he. 

"With you, too, will I return good for evil. Come hither. "

The Seneschal approached, wondering what was about to take place. TheMarquise watched his coming, a cold glitter in her eye, for--keener ofmental vision than Tressan--she already knew the hideous purpose thatwas in Garnache's mind. 

The soldiers grinned; the Abbot looked on with an impassive face. 

"The Marquise de Condillac is likely to be homeless henceforth, " saidthe Parisian, addressing the Seneschal. "Will you not be gallant enoughto offer her a home, Monsieur de Tressan?"

"Will I?" gasped Tressan, scarce daring to believe his own ears, hiseyes staring with a look that was almost one of vacancy. "Madame wellknows how readily. "

"Oho?" crowed Garnache, who had been observing madame's face. "Sheknows? Then do so, monsieur; and on that condition I will forget yourindiscretions here. I pledge you my word that you shall not be called tofurther account for the lives that have been lost through your treacheryand want of loyalty, provided that of your own free will you lay downyour Seneschalship of Dauphiny an office which I cannot consent to seeyou filling hereafter. "

Tressan stared from the Dowager to Garnache and back to the Dowager. Shestood there as if Garnache's words had turned her into marble, bereft ofspeech through very rage. And then the door opened, and Mademoiselle deLa Vauvraye entered, followed closely by Fortunio. 

At sight of Garnache she stood still, set her hand on her heart, anduttered a low cry. Was it indeed Garnache she saw--Garnache, her braveknight-errant? He looked no longer as he had looked during those dayswhen he had been her gaoler; but he looked as she liked to think of himsince she had accounted him dead. He advanced to meet her, a smile inhis eyes that had something wistful in it. He held out both hands toher, and she took them, and there, under the eyes of all, before hecould snatch them away, she had stooped and kissed them, whilst a murmurof "Thank God! Thank God!" escaped from her lips to heaven. 

"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle!" he remonstrated, when it was too late tostay her. "You must not; it is not seemly in me to allow it. "

He saw in the act no more than an expression of the gratitude for whathe had done to serve her, and for the risk in which his life had beenso willingly placed in that service. Under the suasion of his words shegrew calm again; then, suddenly, a fear stirred her once more in thatplace where she had known naught but fears. 

"Why are you here, monsieur? You have come into danger again?"

"No, no, " he laughed. "These are my own men at least, for the timebeing. I am come in power this time, to administer justice. What shallbe done with this lady, mademoiselle?" he asked; and knowing well themerciful sweetness of the girl's soul, he added, "Speak, now. Her fateshall rest in your hands. "

Valerie looked at her enemy, and then her eyes strayed round the roomand took stock of the men standing there in silence, of the Abbot whostill remained at the table-head, a pale, scarce-interested spectator ofthis odd scene. 

The change had come so abruptly. A few minutes ago she had been still aprisoner, suffering tortures at having heard that Marius was to returnthat day, and that, willy-nilly, she must wed him now. And now she wasfree it seemed: her champion was returned in power, and he stood biddingher decide the fate of her late oppressors. 

Madame's face was ashen. She judged the girl by her own self; she had noknowledge of any such infinite sweetness as that of this child's nature, a sweetness that could do no hurt to any. Death was what the Marquiseexpected, since she knew that death would she herself have pronouncedhad the positions been reversed. But--

"Let her go in peace, monsieur, " she heard mademoiselle say, and shecould not believe but that she was being mocked. And as if mockery wereat issue, Garnache laughed. 

"We will let her go, mademoiselle--yet not quite her own way. You mustnot longer remain unrestrained, madame, " he told the Marquise. "Naturessuch as yours need a man's guidance. I think you will be sufficientlypunished if you wed this rash Monsieur de Tressan, just as he will besufficiently punished later when disillusionment follows his presentyouthful ardour. Make each other happy, then, " and he waved his armsfrom one to the other. "Our good Father, here, will tie the knot atonce, and then, my Lord Seneschal, you may bear home your bride. Her sonshall follow you. "

But the Marquise blazed out now. She stamped her foot, and her eyesseemed to have taken fire. 

"Never, sir! Never in life!" she cried. "I will not be so constrained. Iam the Marquise de Condillac, monsieur. Do not forget it!"

"I am hardly in danger of doing that. It is because I remember it thatI urge you to change your estate with all dispatch; and cease to be theMarquise de Condillac. That same Marquise has a heavy score againsther. Let her evade payment by this metamorphosis. I have opened for you, madame, a door through which you may escape. "

"You are insolent, " she told him. "By God, sir! I am no baggage to bedisposed of by the will of any man. "

At that Garnache himself took fire. Her anger proved as the steelsmiting the flint of his own nature, and one of his fierce bursts ofblazing passion whirled about her head. 

"And what of this child, here?" he thundered. "What of her, madame? Wasshe a baggage to be disposed of by the will of any man or woman? Yet yousought to dispose of her against her heart, against her nature, againsther plighted word. Enough said!" he barked, and so terrific was his mienand voice that the stout-spirited Dowager was cowed, and recoiled as headvanced a step in her direction. "Get you married. Take you this manto husband, you who with such calmness sought to drive others intounwilling wedlock. Do it, madame, and do it now, or by the Heaven aboveus, you shall come to Paris with me, and you'll not find them nicethere. It will avail you little to storm and shout at them that you areMarquise de Condillac. As a murderess and a rebel shall you be tried, and as both or either it is odds you will be broken on the wheel--andyour son with you. So make your choice, madame. "

He ceased. Valerie had caught him by the arm. At once his fury fell fromhim. He turned to her. 

"What is it, child?"

"Do not compel her, if she will not wed him, " said she. "Iknow--and--she did not--how terrible a thing it is. "

"Nay, patience, child, " he soothed her, smiling now, his smile as thesunshine that succeeds a thunderstorm. 

"It is none so bad with her. She is but coy. They had plighted theirtroth already, so it seems. Besides, I do not compel her. She shallmarry him of her own free will--or else go to Paris and stand her trialand the consequences. "

"They had plighted their troth, do you say?"

"Well--had you not, Monsieur le Seneschal?"

"We had, monsieur, " said Tressan, with conscious pride; "and for myselfI am ready for these immediate nuptials. "

"Then, in God's name, let Madame give us her answer now. We have not theday to waste. "

She stood looking at him, her toe tapping the ground, her eyes sullenlyangry. And in the end, half-fainting in her great disdain, she consentedto do his will. Paris and the wheel formed too horrible an alternative;besides, even if that were spared her, there was but a hovel in Tourainefor her, and Tressan, for all his fat ugliness, was wealthy. 

So the Abbot, who had lent himself to the mummery of coming there toread a burial service, made ready now, by order of the Queen's emissary, to solemnize a wedding. 

It was soon done. Fortunio stood sponsor for Tressan, and Garnachehimself insisted upon handing the Lord Seneschal his bride, a strokeof irony which hurt the proud lady of Condillac more than all hersufferings of the past half-hour. 

When it was over and the Dowager Marquise de Condillac had beenconverted into the Comtesse de Tressan, Garnache bade them depart inpeace and at once. 

"As I have promised, you shall be spared all prosecution, Monsieur deTressan, " he assured the Seneschal at parting. "But you must resign atonce the King's Seneschalship of Dauphiny, else will you put me to thenecessity of having you deprived of your office--and that might entailunpleasant consequences. "

They went, madame with bowed head, her stubborn pride broken at last asthe Abbot of Saint Francis had so confidently promised her. After themwent the Abbot and the lackeys of Florimond, and Fortunio went withthese to carry out Garnache's orders that the men of the Dowager'sgarrison be sent packing at once, leaving with the Parisian, in thegreat hall, just Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. 

CHAPTER XXIV. SAINT MARTIN'S EVE

Uneasy in his mind, seeking some way to tell the thing and acquithimself of the painful task before him, Garnache took a turn in theapartment. 

Mademoiselle leaned against the table, which was still burdened by theempty coffin, and observed him. His ponderings were vain; he could findno way to tell, his story. She had said that she did not exactly lovethis Florimond, that her loyalty to him was no more than her loyalty toher father's wishes. Nevertheless, he thought, what manner of hurt mustnot her pride receive when she learned that Florimond had brought himhome a wife? Garnache was full of pity for her and for the lonelinessthat must be hers hereafter, mistress of a vast estate in Dauphiny, alone and friendless. And he was a little sorry for himself and theloneliness which, he felt, would be his hereafter; but that was by theway. 

At last it was she herself who broke the silence. 

"Monsieur, " she asked him, and her voice was strained and husky, "wereyou in time to save Florimond?"

"Yes, mademoiselle, " he answered readily, glad that by that question sheshould have introduced the subject. "I was in time. "

"And Marius?" she inquired. "From what I heard you say, I take it thathe has suffered no harm. "

"He has suffered none. I have spared him that he might participate inthe joy of his mother at her union with Monsieur de Tressan. "

"I am glad it was so, monsieur. Tell me of it. " Her voice sounded formaland constrained. 

But either he did not hear or did not heed the question. 

"Mademoiselle, " he said slowly. "Florimond is coming--"

"Florimond?" she broke in, and her voice went shrill, as if with asudden fear, her cheeks turned white as chalk. The thing that for monthsshe had hoped and prayed for was come at last, and it struck her almostdead with terror. 

He remarked the change, and set it down to a natural excitement. Hepaused a moment. Then:

"He is still at La Rochette. But he does no more than wait until heshall have learned that his stepmother has departed from Condillac. "

"But--why--why--? Was he then in no haste to come to me?" she inquired, her voice faltering. 

"He is--" He stopped and tugged at his mustachios, his eyes regardingher sombrely. He was close beside her now, where he had halted, and heset his hand gently upon her shoulder, looked down into that winsomelittle oval face she raised to his. 

"Mademoiselle, " he inquired, "would it afflict you very sorely if youwere not destined, after all, to wed the Lord of Condillac?"

"Afflict me?" she echoed. The very question set her gasping with hope. "No--no, monsieur; it would not afflict me. "

"That is true? That is really, really true?" he cried, and his toneseemed less despondent. 

"Don't you know how true it is?" she said, in such accents and with sucha shy upward look that something seemed suddenly to take Garnache by thethroat. The blood flew to his cheeks. He fancied an odd meaning in thosewords of hers--a meaning that set his pulses throbbing faster than joyor peril had ever set them yet. Then he checked himself, and deep downin his soul he seemed to hear a peal of mocking laughter--just such aburst of sardonic mirth as had broken from his lips two nights ago whenon his way to Voiron. Then he went back to the business he had in hand. 

"I am glad it is so with you, " he said quietly. "Because Florimond hasbrought him home a wife. "

The words were out, and he stood back as stands a man who, having castan insult, prepares to ward the blow he expects in answer. He had lookedfor a storm, a wild, frantic outburst; the lightning of flashing, angryeyes; the thunder of outraged pride. Instead, here was a gentle calm, awan smile overspreading her sweet, pale face, and then she hid thatface in her hands, buried face and hands upon his shoulder and fell toweeping very quietly. 

This, he thought, was almost worse than the tempest he had looked for. How was he to know that these tears were the overflow of a heart thatwas on the point of bursting from sheer joy? He patted her shoulder; hesoothed her. 

"Little child, " he whispered in her ear. "What does it matter? You didnot really love him. He was all unworthy of you. Do not grieve, child. So, so, that is better. "

She was looking up at him, smiling through the tears that suffused ereyes. 

"I am weeping for joy, monsieur, " said she. 

"For joy?" quoth he. "Vertudieu! There is no end to the things a womanweeps for!"

Unconsciously, instinctively almost, she nestled closer to him, andagain his pulses throbbed, again that flush came to overspread his leancountenance. Very softly he whispered in her ear:

"Will you go to Paris with me, mademoiselle?"

He meant by that question no more than to ask whether, now that here inDauphiny she would be friendless and alone, it were not better for herto place herself under the care of the Queen-Regent. But what blame toher if she misunderstood the question, if she read in it the very wordsher heart was longing to hear from him? The very gentleness of his toneimplied his meaning to be the one she desired. She raised her hazel eyesagain to his, she nestled closer to him, and then, with a shy flutteringof her lids, a delicious red suffusing her virgin cheek, she answeredvery softly:

"I will go anywhere with you, monsieur--anywhere. "

With a cry he broke from her. There was no fancying now; no possibilityof misunderstanding. He saw how she had misread his question, how shehad delivered herself up to him in answer. His almost roughness startledher, and she stared at him as he stamped down the apartment and backto where she stood, seeking in vain to master the turbulence of hisfeelings. He stood still again. He took her by the shoulders and heldher at arms' length, before him, thus surveying her, and there wastrouble in his keen eyes. 

"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle!" he cried. "Valerie, my child, what are yousaying to me?"

"What would you have me say?" she asked, her eyes upon the floor. "Was Itoo forward? It seemed to me there could not be question of such a thingbetween us now. I belong to you. What man has ever served a woman asyou have served me? What better friend, what nobler lover did ever womanhave? Why then need I take shame at confessing my devotion?"

He swallowed hard, and there was a mist before his eyes--eyes that hadlooked unmoved on many a scene of carnage. 

"You know not what you do, " he cried out, and his voice was as the voiceof one in pain. "I am old. "

"Old?" she echoed in deep surprise, and she looked up at him, as if shesought evidence of what he stated. 

"Aye, old, " he assured her bitterly. "Look at the grey in my hair, thewrinkles in my face. I am no likely lover for you, child. You'll need alusty, comely young gallant. "

She looked at him, and a faint smile flickered at the corners of herlips. She observed his straight, handsome figure; his fine air ofdignity and of strength. Every inch a man was he; never lived there onewho was more a man; and what more than such a man could any maid desire?

"You are all that I would have you, " she answered him, and in his mindhe almost cursed her stubbornness, her want of reason. 

"I am peevish and cross-grained, " he informed her, "and I have grown oldin ignorance of woman's ways. Love has never come to me until now. Whatmanner of lover, think you, can I make?"

Her eyes were on the windows at his back. The sunshine striking throughthem seemed to give her the reply she sought. 

"To-morrow will be Saint Martin's Day, " she told him; "yet see with awarmth the sun is shining. "

"A poor, make-believe Saint Martin's Summer, " said he. "I am fitlyanswered by your allegory. "

"Oh, not make-believe, not make-believe, " she exclaimed. "There is nomake-believe in the sun's brightness and its warmth. We see it and wefeel it, and we are none the less glad of it because the time of yearshould be November; rather do we take the greater joy in it. And it isnot yet November in your life, not yet by many months. "

"What you say is apt, perhaps, " said he, "and may seem more apt thanit is since my name is Martin, though I am no saint. " Then he shook offthis mood that he accounted selfish; this mood that would take her--asthe wolf takes the lamb--with no thought but for his own hunger. 

"No, no!" he cried out. "It were unworthy in me!"

"When I love you, Martin?" she asked him gently. 

A moment he stared at her, as if through those clear eyes he wouldpenetrate to the very depths of her maiden soul. Then he sank on to hisknees before her as any stripling lover might have done, and kissed herhands in token of the fact that he was conquered.