BARDELYS THE MAGNIFICENT

Being an Account of the Strange Wooing pursued by the Sieur Marcel deSaint-Pol; Marquis of Bardelys, and of the things that in the course ofit befell him in Languedoc, in the year of the Rebellion

By Rafael Sabatini

CONTENTS

 I. THE WAGER II. THE KING'S WISHES III. RENT: DE LESPERON IV. A MAID IN THE MOONLIGHT V. THE VICOMTE DE LAVEDAN VI. IN CONVALESCENCE VII. THE HOSTILITY OF SAINT-EUSTACHE VIII. THE PORTRAIT IX. A NIGHT ALARM X. THE RISEN DEAD XI. THE KING'S COMMISSIONER XII. THE TRIBUNAL OF TOULOUSE XIII. THE ELEVENTH HOUR XIV. EAVESDROPPING XV. MONSIEUR DE CHATELLERAULT IS ANGRY XVI. SWORDS XVII. THE BABBLING OF GANYMEDE XVIII. SAINT-EUSTACHE IS OBSTINATE XIX. THE FLINT AND THE STEEL XX. THE "BRAVI" AT BLAGNAC XXI. LOUIS THE JUST XXII. WE UNSADDLE

BARDELYS THE MAGNIFICENT

CHAPTER I. THE WAGER

"Speak of the Devil, " whispered La Fosse in my ear, and, moved by thewords and by the significance of his glance, I turned in my chair. 

The door had opened, and under the lintel stood the thick-set figureof the Comte de Chatellerault. Before him a lacquey in my escutcheonedlivery of red-and-gold was receiving, with back obsequiously bent, hishat and cloak. 

A sudden hush fell upon the assembly where a moment ago this very manhad been the subject of our talk, and silenced were the wits that butan instant since had been making free with his name and turning theLanguedoc courtship--from which he was newly returned with the shame ofdefeat--into a subject for heartless mockery and jest. Surprise wasin the air for we had heard that Chatellerault was crushed by hisill-fortune in the lists of Cupid, and we had not looked to see himjoining so soon a board at which--or so at least I boasted--mirthpresided. 

And so for a little space the Count stood pausing on my threshold, whilst we craned our necks to contemplate him as though he had beenan object for inquisitive inspection. Then a smothered laugh from thebrainless La Fosse seemed to break the spell. I frowned. It was a climaxof discourtesy whose impression I must at all costs efface. 

I leapt to my feet, with a suddenness that sent my chair gliding a fullhalf-yard along the glimmering parquet of the floor, and in two stridesI had reached the Count and put forth my hand to bid him welcome. Hetook it with a leisureliness that argued sorrow. He advanced into thefull blaze of the candlelight, and fetched a dismal sigh from the depthsof his portly bulk. 

"You are surprised to see me, Monsieur le Marquis, " said he, and histone seemed to convey an apology for his coming--for his very existencealmost. 

Now Nature had made my Lord of Chatellerault as proud and arrogant asLucifer--some resemblance to which illustrious personage his downtroddenretainers were said to detect in the lineaments of his swarthy face. Environment had added to that store of insolence wherewith Nature hadequipped him, and the King's favour--in which he was my rival--had goneyet further to mould the peacock attributes of his vain soul. So thatthis wondrous humble tone of his gave me pause; for to me it seemed thatnot even a courtship gone awry could account for it in such a man. 

"I had not thought to find so many here, " said he. And his nextwords contained the cause of his dejected air. "The King, Monsieur deBardelys, has refused to see me; and when the sun is gone, we lesserbodies of the courtly firmament must needs turn for light and comfort tothe moon. " And he made me a sweeping bow. 

"Meaning that I rule the night?" quoth I, and laughed. "The figure ismore playful than exact, for whilst the moon is cold and cheerless, meyou shall find ever warm and cordial. I could have wished, Monsieur deChatellerault, that your gracing my board were due to a circumstanceless untoward than His Majesty's displeasure. "

"It is not for nothing that they call you the Magnificent, " he answered, with a fresh bow, insensible to the sting in the tail of my honeyedwords. 

I laughed, and, setting compliments to rest with that, I led him to thetable. 

"Ganymede, a place here for Monsieur le Comte. Gilles, Antoine, see toMonsieur de Chatellerault. Basile, wine for Monsieur le Comte. Bestirthere!"

In a moment he was become the centre of a very turmoil of attention. Mylacqueys flitted about him buzzing and insistent as bees about a rose. Would Monsieur taste of this capon a la casserole, or of this truffledpeacock? Would a slice of this juicy ham a l'anglaise tempt Monsieurle Comte, or would he give himself the pain of trying this turkey auxolives? Here was a salad whose secret Monsieur le Marquis's cook hadlearnt in Italy, and here a vol-au-vent that was invented by Quelonhimself. 

Basile urged his wines upon him, accompanied by a page who bore a silvertray laden with beakers and Wagons. Would Monsieur le Comte take whiteArmagnac or red Anjou? This was a Burgundy of which Monsieur le Marquisthought highly, and this a delicate Lombardy wine that His Majesty hadoft commended. Or perhaps Monsieur de Chatellerault would prefer totaste the last vintage of Bardelys?

And so they plagued him and bewildered him until his choice was made;and even then a couple of them held themselves in readiness behind hischair to forestall his slightest want. Indeed, had he been the veryKing himself, no greater honour could we have shown him at the Hotel deBardelys. 

But the restraint that his coming had brought with it hung still uponthe company, for Chatellerault was little loved, and his presence therewas much as that of the skull at an Egyptian banquet. 

For of all these fair-weather friends that sat about my table--amongstwhom there were few that had not felt his power--I feared there mightbe scarcely one would have the grace to dissemble his contempt of thefallen favourite. That he was fallen, as much his words as what alreadywe had known, had told us. 

Yet in my house I would strive that he should have no foretaste of thatcoldness that to-morrow all Paris would be showing him, and to thisend I played the host with all the graciousness that role may bear, andoverwhelmed him with my cordiality, whilst to thaw all iciness from thebearing of my other guests, I set the wines to flow more freely still. My dignity would permit no less of me, else would it have seemed thatI rejoiced in a rival's downfall and took satisfaction from thecircumstance that his disfavour with the King was like to result in myown further exaltation. 

My efforts were not wasted. Slowly the mellowing influence of the grapepronounced itself. To this influence I added that of such wit as Heavenhas graced me with, and by a word here and another there I set myself tolash their mood back into the joviality out of which his coming had forthe moment driven it. 

And so, presently, Good-Humour spread her mantle over us anew, andquip and jest and laughter decked our speech, until the noise of ourmerry-making drifting out through the open windows must have been borneupon the breeze of that August night down the rue Saint-Dominique, across the rue de l'Enfer, to the very ears perhaps of those within theLuxembourg, telling them that Bardelys and his friends kept another ofthose revels which were become a byword in Paris, and had contributednot a little to the sobriquet of "Magnificent" which men gave me. 

But, later, as the toasts grew wild and were pledged less for the sakeof the toasted than for that of the wine itself, wits grew more barbedand less restrained by caution; recklessness hung a moment, like a birdof prey, above us, then swooped abruptly down in the words of that foolLa Fosse. 

"Messieurs, " he lisped, with that fatuousness he affected, and with hiseye fixed coldly upon Chatellerault, "I have a toast for you. " He rosecarefully to his feet--he had arrived at that condition in which to movewith care is of the first importance. He shifted his eye from the Countto his glass, which stood half empty. He signed to a lacquey to fillit. "To the brim, gentlemen, " he commanded. Then, in the silence thatensued, he attempted to stand with one foot on the ground and one onhis chair; but encountering difficulties of balance, he remainedupright--safer if less picturesque. 

"Messieurs, I give you the most peerless, the most beautiful, the mostdifficult and cold lady in all France. I drink to those her thousandgraces, of which Fame has told us, and to that greatest and most vexingcharm of all--her cold indifference to man. I pledge you, too, the swainwhose good fortune it maybe to play Endymion to this Diana. 

"It will need, " pursued La Fosse, who dealt much in mythology andclassic lore--"it will need an Adonis in beauty, a Mars in valour, anApollo in song, and a very Eros in love to accomplish it. And I fearme, " he hiccoughed, "that it will go unaccomplished, since the one manin all France on whom we have based our hopes has failed. Gentlemen, toyour feet! I give you the matchless Roxalanne de Lavedan!"

Such amusement as I felt was tempered by apprehension. I shot a swiftglance at Chatellerault to mark how he took this pleasantry and thispledging of the lady whom the King had sent him to woo, but whom hehad failed to win. He had risen with the others at La Fosse's bidding, either unsuspicious or else deeming suspicion too flimsy a thing bywhich to steer conduct. Yet at the mention of her name a scowl darkenedhis ponderous countenance. He set down his glass with such sudden forcethat its slender stem was snapped and a red stream of wine streaked thewhite tablecloth and spread around a silver flowerbowl. The sight ofthat stain recalled him to himself and to the manners he had allowedhimself for a moment to forget. 

"Bardelys, a thousand apologies for my clumsiness, " he muttered. 

"Spilt wine, " I laughed, "is a good omen. "

And for once I accepted that belief, since but for the shedding of thatwine and its sudden effect upon him, it is likely we had witnesseda shedding of blood. Thus, was the ill-timed pleasantry of myfeather-brained La Fosse tided over in comparative safety. But the topicbeing raised was not so easily abandoned. Mademoiselle de Lavedan grewto be openly discussed, and even the Count's courtship of her came to behinted at, at first vaguely, then pointedly, with a lack of delicacyfor which I can but blame the wine with which these gentlemen had madea salad of their senses. In growing alarm I watched the Count. But heshowed no further sign of irritation. He sat and listened as though nojot concerned. There were moments when he even smiled at some livelysally, and at last he went so far as to join in that merry combat ofwits, and defend himself from their attacks, which were made with agood-humour that but thinly veiled the dislike he was held in and thesatisfaction that was culled from his late discomfiture. 

For a while I hung back and took no share in the banter that was toward. But in the end--lured perhaps by the spirit in which I have shown thatChatellerault accepted it, and lulled by the wine which in common withmy guests I may have abused--I came to utter words but for which thisstory never had been written. 

"Chatellerault, " I laughed, "abandon these defensive subterfuges;confess that you are but uttering excuses, and acknowledge that you haveconducted this affair with a clumsiness unpardonable in one equippedwith your advantages of courtly rearing. "

A flush overspread his face, the first sign of anger since he hadspilled his wine. 

"Your successes, Bardelys, render you vain, and of vanity is presumptionborn, " he replied contemptuously. 

"See!" I cried, appealing to the company. "Observe how he seeks to evadereplying! Nay, but you shall confess your clumsiness. "

"A clumsiness, " murmured La Fosse drowsily, "as signal as that whichattended Pan's wooing of the Queen of Lydia. "

"I have no clumsiness to confess, " he answered hotly, raising his voice. "It is a fine thing to sit here in Paris, among the languid, dull, andnerveless beauties of the Court, whose favours are easily won becausethey look on dalliance as the best pastime offered them, and are eagerfor such opportunities of it as you fleering coxcombs will afford them. But this Mademoiselle de Lavedan is of a vastly different mettle. Sheis a woman; not a doll. She is flesh and blood; not sawdust, powder, andvermilion. She has a heart and a will; not a spirit corrupted by vanityand licence. "

La Fosse burst into a laugh. 

"Hark! O, hark!" he cried, "to the apostle of the chaste!"

"Saint Gris!" exclaimed another. "This good Chatellerault has lost bothheart and head to her. "

Chatellerault glanced at the speaker with an eye in which angersmouldered. 

"You have said it, " I agreed. "He has fallen her victim, and so hisvanity translates her into a compound of perfections. Does such a womanas you have described exist, Comte? Bah! In a lover's mind, perhaps, orin the pages of some crack-brained poet's fancies; but nowhere else inthis dull world of ours. "

He made a gesture of impatience. 

"You have been clumsy, Chatellerault, " I insisted. 

"You have lacked address. The woman does not live that is not to be wonby any man who sets his mind to do it, if only he be of her station andhave the means to maintain her in it or raise her to a better. A woman'slove, sir, is a tree whose root is vanity. Your attentions flatter her, and predispose her to capitulate. Then, if you but wisely choose yourtime to deliver the attack, and do so with the necessary adroitness--noris overmuch demanded--the battle is won with ease, and she surrenders. Believe me, Chatellerault, I am a younger man than you by full fiveyears, yet in experience I am a generation older, and I talk of what Iknow. "

He sneered heavily. "If to have begun your career of dalliance at theage of eighteen with an amour that resulted in a scandal be your titleto experience, I agree, " said he. "But for the rest, Bardelys, for allyour fine talk of conquering women, believe me when I tell you that inall your life you have never met a woman, for I deny the claim of theseCourt creatures to that title. If you would know a woman, go to Lavedan, Monsieur le Marquis. If you would have your army of amorous wiles suffera defeat at last, go employ it against the citadel of Roxalanne deLavedan's heart. If you would be humbled in your pride, betake yourselfto Lavedan. "

"A challenge!" roared a dozen voices. "A challenge, Bardelys!"

"Mais voyons, " I deprecated, with a laugh, "would you have me journeyinto Languedoc and play at wooing this embodiment of all the marvelsof womanhood for the sake of making good my argument? Of your charity, gentlemen, insist no further. "

"The never-failing excuse of the boaster, " sneered Chatellerault, "whendesired to make good his boast. "

"Monsieur conceives that I have made a boast?" quoth I, keeping mytemper. 

"Your words suggested one--else I do not know the meaning of words. Theysuggested that where I have failed you could succeed, if you had a mindto try. I have challenged you, Bardelys. I challenge you again. Goabout this wooing as you will; dazzle the lady with your wealth and yourmagnificence, with your servants, your horses, your equipages; and allthe splendours you can command; yet I make bold to say that not a yearof your scented attentions and most insidious wiles will bear you fruit. Are you sufficiently challenged?"

"But this is rank frenzy!" I protested. "Why should I undertake thisthing?"

"To prove me wrong, " he taunted me. "To prove me clumsy. Come, Bardelys, what of your spirit?"

"I confess I would do much to afford you the proof you ask. But to takea wife! Pardi! That is much indeed!"

"Bah!" he sneered. "You do well to draw back You are wise to avoiddiscomfiture. This lady is not for you. When she is won, it will be bysome bold and gallant gentleman, and by no mincing squire of dames, no courtly coxcomb, no fop of the Luxembourg, be his experiences ofdalliance never so vast. "

"Po' Cap de Dieu!" growled Cazalet, who was a Gascon captain in theGuards, and who swore strange, southern oaths. "Up, Bardelys! Afoot!Prove your boldness and your gallantry, or be forever shamed; a squireof dames, a courtly coxcomb, a fop of the Luxembourg! Mordemondieu! Ihave given a man a bellyful of steel for the half of those titles!"

I heeded him little, and as little the other noisy babblers, who now ontheir feet--those that could stand--were spurring me excitedly to acceptthe challenge, until from being one of the baiters it seemed that ofa sudden the tables were turned and I was become the baited. I sat inthought, revolving the business in my mind, and frankly liking it butlittle. Doubts of the issue, were I to undertake it, I had none. 

My views of the other sex were neither more nor less than my words tothe Count had been calculated to convey. It may be--I know now that itwas that the women I had known fitted Chatellerault's description, andwere not over-difficult to win. Hence, such successes as I had had withthem in such comedies of love as I had been engaged upon had given me afalse impression. But such at least was not my opinion that night. I wassatisfied that Chatellerault talked wildly, and that no such woman livedas he depicted. Cynical and soured you may account me. Such I know I wasaccounted in Paris; a man satiated with all that wealth and youth andthe King's favour could give him; stripped of illusions, of faith andof zest, the very magnificence--so envied--of my existence affording memore disgust than satisfaction. Since already I had gauged its shallows. 

Is it strange, therefore, that in this challenge flung at me with suchinsistence, a business that at first I disliked grew presently to beckonme with its novelty and its promise of new sensations?

"Is your spirit dead, Monsieur de Bardelys?" Chatellerault was gibing, when my silence had endured some moments. "Is the cock that latelycrowed so lustily now dumb? Look you, Monsieur le Marquis, you areaccounted here a reckless gamester. Will a wager induce you to thisundertaking?"

I leapt to my feet at that. His derision cut me like a whip. If what Idid was the act of a braggart, yet it almost seems I could do no lessto bolster up my former boasting--or what into boasting they hadtranslated. 

"You'll lay a wager, will you, Chatellerault?" I cried, giving him backdefiance for defiance. A breathless silence fell. "Then have it so. Listen, gentlemen, that you may be witnesses. I do here pledge my castleof Bardelys, and my estates in Picardy, with every stick and stone andblade of grass that stands upon them, that I shall woo and win Roxalannede Lavedan to be the Marquise of Bardelys. Does the stake satisfyyou, Monsieur le Comte? You may set all you have against it, " I addedcoarsely, "and yet, I swear, the odds will be heavily in your favour. "

I remember it was Mironsac who first found his tongue, and sought evenat that late hour to set restraint upon us and to bring judgment to ouraid. 

"Messieurs, messieurs!" he besought us. "In Heaven's name, bethinkyou what you do. Bardelys, your wager is a madness. Monsieur deChatellerault, you'll not accept it. You'll--"

"Be silent, " I rebuked him, with some asperity. "What has Monsieur deChatellerault to say?"

He was staring at the tablecloth and the stain of the wine that he hadspilled when first Mademoiselle de Lavedan's name was mentioned. Hishead had been bent so that his long black hair had tumbled forward andpartly veiled his face. At my question he suddenly looked up. The ghostof a smile hung on his sensuous lips, for all that excitement had paledhis countenance beyond its habit. 

"Monsieur le Marquis. " said he rising, "I take your wager, and I pledgemy lands in Normandy against yours of Bardelys. Should you lose, theywill no longer call you the Magnificent; should I lose--I shall be abeggar. It is a momentous wager, Bardelys, and spells ruin for one ofus. "

"A madness!" groaned Mironsac. 

"Mordieux!" swore Cazalet. Whilst La Fosse, who had been the originalcause of all this trouble, vented his excitement in a gibber of imbecilelaughter. 

"How long do you give me, Chatellerault?" I asked, as quietly as Imight. 

"What time shall you require?"

"I should prefer that you name the limit, " I answered. 

He pondered a moment. Then "Will three months suffice you?" he asked. 

"If it is not done in three months, I will pay, " said I. 

And then Chatellerault did what after all was, I suppose, the only thingthat a gentleman might do under the circumstances. He rose to his feet, and, bidding the company charge their glasses, he gave them a partingtoast. 

"Messieurs, drink with me to Monsieur le Marquis de Bardelys's safejourney into Languedoc, and to the prospering of his undertaking. "

In answer, a great shout went up from throats that suspense had latelyheld in leash. Men leapt on to their chairs, and, holding their glasseson high, they acclaimed me as thunderously as though I had been thehero of some noble exploit, instead of the main figure in a somewhatquestionable wager. 

"Bardelys!" was the shout with which the house reechoed. "Bardelys!Bardelys the Magnificent! Vive Bardelys!"

CHAPTER II. THE KING'S WISHES

It was daybreak ere the last of them had left me, for a dozen or so hadlingered to play lansquenet after the others had departed. With thosethat remained my wager had soon faded into insignificance, as theirminds became engrossed in the fluctuations of their own fortunes. 

I did not play myself; I was not in the mood, and for one night, atleast, of sufficient weight already I thought the game upon which I waslaunched. 

I was out on the balcony as the first lines of dawn were scoring theeast, and in a moody, thoughtful condition I had riveted my eyes uponthe palace of the Luxembourg, which loomed a black pile against thelightening sky, when Mironsac came out to join me. A gentle, lovable ladwas Mironsac, not twenty years of age, and with the face and manners ofa woman. That he was attached to me I knew. 

"Monsieur le Marquis, " said he softly, "I am desolated at this wagerinto which they have forced you. "

"Forced me?" I echoed. "No, no; they did not force me. And yet, " Ireflected, with a sigh, "perhaps they did. "

"I have been thinking, monsieur, that if the King were to hear of it theevil might be mended. "

"But the King must not hear of it, Armand, " I answered quickly. "Even ifhe did, matters would be no better--much worse, possibly. "

"But, monsieur, this thing done in the heat of wine--"

"Is none the less done, Armand, " I concluded. "And I for one do not wishit undone. "

"But have you no thought for the lady?" he cried. 

I laughed at him. "Were I still eighteen, boy, the thought might troubleme. Had I my illusions, I might imagine that my wife must be some womanof whom I should be enamoured. As it is, I have grown to the age oftwenty-eight unwed. Marriage becomes desirable. I must think of an heirto all the wealth of Bardelys. And so I go to Languedoc. If the lady bebut half the saint that fool Chatellerault has painted her, so much thebetter for my children; if not, so much the worse. There is the dawn, Mironsac, and it is time we were abed. Let us drive these plaguygamesters home. "

When the last of them had staggered down my steps, and I had bidden adrowsy lacquey extinguish the candles, I called Ganymede to light me tobed and aid me to undress. His true name was Rodenard; but my friendLa Fosse, of mythological fancy, had named him Ganymede, after thecup-bearer of the gods, and the name had clung to him. He was a man ofsome forty years of age, born into my father's service, and since becomemy intendant, factotum, majordomo, and generalissimo of my regiment ofservants and my establishments both in Paris and at Bardelys. 

We had been to the wars together ere I had cut my wisdom teeth, and thushad he come to love me. There was nothing this invaluable servant couldnot do. At baiting or shoeing a horse, at healing a wound, at roastinga capon, or at mending a doublet, he was alike a master, besidespossessing a score of other accomplishments that do not now occur to me, which in his campaigning he had acquired. Of late the easy life inParis had made him incline to corpulency, and his face was of a pale, unhealthy fullness. 

To-night, as he assisted me to undress, it wore an expression of supremewoe. 

"Monseigneur is going into Languedoc?" he inquired sorrowfully. Healways called me his "seigneur, " as did the other of my servants born atBardelys. 

"Knave, you have been listening, " said I. 

"But, monseigneur, " he explained, "when Monsieur le Comte deChatellerault laid his wager--"

"And have I not told you, Ganymede, that when you chance to be amongmy friends you should hear nothing but the words addressed to you, seenothing but the glasses that need replenishing? But, there! We are goinginto Languedoc. What of it?"

"They say that war may break out at any moment, " he groaned; "thatMonsieur le Duc de Montmorency is receiving reenforcements from Spain, and that he intends to uphold the standard of Monsieur and the rights ofthe province against the encroachments of His Eminence the Cardinal. "

"So! We are becoming politicians, eh, Ganymede? And how shall all thisconcern us? Had you listened more attentively, you had learnt that we goto Languedoc to seek a wife, and not to concern ourselves with Cardinalsand Dukes. Now let me sleep ere the sun rises. "

On the morrow I attended the levee, and I applied to His Majesty forleave to absent myself. But upon hearing that it was into Languedoc Iwent, he frowned inquiry. Trouble enough was his brother already makingin that province. I explained that I went to seek a wife, and deemingall subterfuge dangerous, since it might only serve to provoke him whenlater he came to learn the lady's name, I told him--withholding yet allmention of the wager--that I fostered the hope of making Mademoiselle deLavedan my marquise. 

Deeper came the line between his brows at that, and blacker grew thescowl. He was not wont to bestow on me such looks as I now met in hisweary eyes, for Louis XIII had much affection for me. 

"You know this lady?" he demanded sharply. 

"Only by name, Your Majesty. "

At that his brows went up in astonishment. 

"Only by name? And you would wed her? But, Marcel, my friend, you are arich man one of the richest in France. You cannot be a fortune hunter. "

"Sire, " I answered, "Fame sings loudly the praises of this lady, herbeauty and her virtue--praises that lead me to opine she would make mean excellent chatelaine. I am come to an age when it is well to wed;indeed, Your Majesty has often told me so. And it seems to me that allFrance does not hold a lady more desirable. Heaven send she will agreeto my suit!"

In that tired way of his that was so pathetic: "Do you love me a little, Marcel?" he asked. 

"Sire, " I exclaimed, wondering whither all this was leading us, "need Iprotest it?"

"No, " he answered dryly; "you can prove it. Prove it by abandoning thisLanguedoc quest. I have motives--sound motives, motives of politicalimport. I desire another wedding for Mademoiselle de Lavedan. I wish itso, Bardelys, and I look to be obeyed. "

For a moment temptation had me by the throat. Here was an unlooked-forchance to shake from me a business which reflection was alreadyrendering odious. I had but to call together my friends of yesternight, and with them the Comte de Chatellerault, and inform them that by theKing was I forbidden to go awooing Roxalanne de Lavedan. So should mywager be dissolved. And then in a flash I saw how they would sneerone and all, and how they would think that I had caught avidly at thisopportunity of freeing myself from an undertaking into which a boastfulmood had lured me. The fear of that swept aside my momentary hesitation. 

"Sire, " I answered, bending my head contritely, "I am desolated thatmy inclinations should run counter to your wishes, but to your wontedkindness and clemency I must look for forgiveness if these sameinclinations drive me so relentlessly that I may not now turn back. "

He caught me viciously by the arm and looked sharply into my face. 

"You defy me, Bardelys?" he asked, in a voice of anger. 

"God forbid, Sire!" I answered quickly. "I do but pursue my destiny. "

He took a turn in silence, like a man who is mastering himself beforehe will speak. Many an eye, I knew, was upon us, and not a few may havebeen marvelling whether already Bardelys were about to share the fatethat yesterday had overtaken his rival Chatellerault. At last he haltedat my side again. 

"Marcel, " said he, but though he used that name his voice was harsh, "gohome and ponder what I have said. If you value my favour, if you desiremy love, you will abandon this journey and the suit you contemplate. If, on the other hand, you persist in going--you need not return. The Courtof France has no room for gentlemen who are but lip-servers, no placefor courtiers who disobey their King. "

That was his last word. He waited for no reply, but swung round on hisheel, and an instant later I beheld him deep in conversation with theDuke of Saint-Simon. Of such a quality is the love of princes--vain, capricious, and wilful. Indulge it ever and at any cost, else youforfeit it. 

I turned away with a sigh, for in spite of all his weaknesses andmeannesses I loved this cardinal-ridden king, and would have died forhim had the need occurred, as well he knew. But in this matter--well, Iaccounted my honour involved, and there was now no turning back save bythe payment of my wager and the acknowledgment of defeat. 

CHAPTER III. RENE DE LESPERON

That very day I set out. For since the King was opposed to the affair, and knowing the drastic measures by which he was wont to enforce what hedesired, I realized that did I linger he might find a way definitely toprevent my going. 

I travelled in a coach, attended by two lacqueys and a score ofmen-at-arms in my own livery, all commanded by Ganymede. My intendanthimself came in another coach with my wardrobe and travellingnecessaries. We were a fine and almost regal cortege as we passed downthe rue de l'Enfer and quitted Paris by the Orleans gate, taking theroad south. So fine a cortege, indeed, that it entered my mind. HisMajesty would come to hear of it, and, knowing my destination, sendafter me to bring me back. To evade such a possibility, I ordereda divergence to be made, and we struck east and into Touraine. AtPont-le-Duc, near Tours, I had a cousin in the Vicomte d'Amaral, and athis chateau I arrived on the third day after quitting Paris. 

Since that was the last place where they would seek me, if to seek methey were inclined, I elected to remain my cousin's guest for fifteendays. And whilst I was there we had news of trouble in the South andof a rising in Languedoc under the Duc de Montmorency. Thus was it thatwhen I came to take my leave of Amaral, he, knowing that Languedoc wasmy destination, sought ardently to keep me with him until we shouldlearn that peace and order were restored in the province. But I held thetrouble lightly, and insisted upon going. 

Resolutely, then, if by slow stages, we pursued our journey, and cameat last to Montauban. There we lay a night at the Auberge de Navarre, intending to push on to Lavedan upon the morrow. My father had been onmore than friendly terms with the Vicomte de Lavedan, and upon this Ibuilt my hopes of a cordial welcome and an invitation to delay for a fewdays the journey to Toulouse, upon which I should represent myself asbound. 

Thus, then, stood my plans. And they remained unaltered for all thatupon the morrow there were wild rumours in the air of Montauban. Therewere tellings of a battle fought the day before at Castelnaudary, ofthe defeat of Monsieur's partisans, of the utter rout of Gonzalo deCordova's Spanish tatterdemalions, and of the capture of Montmorency, who was sorely wounded--some said with twenty and some with thirtywounds--and little like to live. Sorrow and discontent stalked abroad inLanguedoc that day, for they believed that it was against the Cardinal, who sought to strip them of so many privileges, that Gaston d'Orleanshad set up his standard. 

That those rumours of battle and defeat were true we had ample proofsome few hours later, when a company of dragoons in buff and steel rodeinto the courtyard of the Auberge de Navarre, headed by a young spark ofan officer, who confirmed the rumour and set the number ofMontmorency's wounds at seventeen. He was lying, the officer told us, atCastelnaudary, and his duchess was hastening to him from Beziers. Poorwoman! She was destined to nurse him back to life and vigour only thathe might take his trial at Toulouse and pay with his head the price ofhis rebellion. 

Ganymede who, through the luxurious habits of his more recent yearshad--for all his fine swagger--developed a marked distaste for warfareand excitement, besought me to take thought for my safety and to liequietly at Montauban until the province should be more settled. 

"The place is a hotbed of rebellion, " he urged. "If these Chouans butlearn that we are from Paris and of the King's party, we shall have ourthroats slit, as I live. There is not a peasant in all this countrysideindeed, scarce a man of any sort but is a red-hot Orleanist, anti-Cardinalist, and friend of the Devil. Bethink you, monseigneur, topush on at the present is to court murder. "

"Why, then, we will court murder, " said I coldly. "Give the word tosaddle. "

I asked him at the moment of setting out did he know the road toLavedan, to which the lying poltroon made answer that he did. In hisyouth he may have known it, and the countryside may have undergone sincethen such changes as bewildered him. Or it may be that fear dulled hiswits, and lured him into taking what may have seemed the safer ratherthan the likelier road. But this I know, that as night was fallingmy carriage halted with a lurch, and as I put forth my head I wasconfronted by my trembling intendant, his great fat face gleamingwhitely in the gloom above the lawn collar on his doublet. 

"Why do we halt, Ganymede?" quoth I. 

"Monseigneur, " he faltered, his trembling increasing as he spoke, andhis eyes meeting mine in a look of pitiful contrition, "I fear we arelost. "

"Lost?" I echoed. "Of what do you talk? Am I to sleep in the coach?"

"Alas, monseigneur, I have done my best--"

"Why, then, God keep us from your worst, " I snapped. "Open me thisdoor. "

I stepped down and looked about me, and, by my faith, a more desolatespot to lose us in my henchman could not have contrived had he been atpains to do so. A bleak, barren landscape--such as I could hardly havecredited was to be found in all that fair province--unfolded itself, looking now more bleak, perhaps, by virtue of the dim evening mist thathovered over it. Yonder, to the right, a dull russet patch of sky markedthe west, and then in front of us I made out the hazy outline of thePyrenees. At sight of them, I swung round and gripped my henchman by theshoulder. 

"A fine trusty servant thou!" I cried. "Boaster! Had you told us thatage and fat living had so stunted your wits as to have extinguishedmemory, I had taken a guide at Montauban to show us the way. Yet, here, with the sun and the Pyrenees to guide you, even had you no otherknowledge, you lose yourself!"

"Monseigneur, " he whimpered, "I was choosing my way by the sun and themountains, and it was thus that I came to this impasse. For you may see, yourself, that the road ends here abruptly. "

"Ganymede, " said I slowly, "when we return to Paris--if you do notdie of fright 'twixt this and then--I'll find a place for you in thekitchens. God send you may make a better scullion than a follower!"Then, vaulting over the wall, "Attend me, some half-dozen of you, " Icommanded, and stepped out briskly towards the barn. 

As the weather-beaten old door creaked upon its rusty hinges, we weregreeted by a groan from within, and with it the soft rustle of strawthat is being moved. Surprised, I halted, and waited whilst one of mymen kindled a light in the lanthorn that he carried. 

By its rays we beheld a pitiable sight in a corner of that building. Aman, quite young and of a tall and vigorous frame, lay stretched uponthe straw. He was fully dressed even to his great riding-boots, andfrom the loose manner in which his back-and-breast hung now upon him, it would seem as if he had been making shift to divest himself of hisarmour, but had lacked the strength to complete the task. Beside himlay a feathered headpiece and a sword attached to a richly broideredbaldrick. All about him the straw was clotted with brown, viscouspatches of blood. The doublet which had been of sky-blue velvet was allsodden and stained, and inspection showed us that he had been wounded inthe right side, between the straps of his breastplate. 

As we stood about him now, a silent, pitying group, appearing fantastic, perhaps, by the dim light of that single lanthorn, he attempted to raisehis head, and then with a groan he dropped it back upon the straw thatpillowed it. From out of a face white, as in death, and drawn withhaggard lines of pain, a pair of great lustrous blue eyes were turnedupon us, abject and pitiful as the gaze of a dumb beast that is strickenmortally. 

It needed no acuteness to apprehend that we had before us one ofyesterday's defeated warriors; one who had spent his last strength increeping hither to get his dying done in peace. Lest our presenceshould add fear to the agony already upon him, I knelt beside him in theblood-smeared straw, and, raising his head, I pillowed it upon my arm. 

"Have no fear, " said I reassuringly. "We are friends. Do youunderstand?"

The faint smile that played for a second on his lips and lighted hiscountenance would have told me that he understood, even had I not caughthis words, faint as a sigh "Merci, monsieur. " He nestled his head intothe crook of my arm. "Water--for the love of God!" he gasped, to add ina groan, "Je me meurs, monsieur. "

Assisted by a couple of knaves, Ganymede went about attending to therebel at once. Handling him as carefully as might be, to avoid givinghim unnecessary pain they removed his back-and-breast, which was flungwith a clatter into one of the corners of the barn. Then, whilst one ofthem gently drew off his boots, Rodenard, with the lanthorn close besidehim, cut away the fellow's doublet, and laid bare the oozing sword-woundthat gaped in his mangled side. He whispered an order to Gilles, whowent swiftly off to the coach in quest of something that he had askedfor; then he sat on his heels and waited, his hand upon the man's pulse, his eyes on his face. 

I stooped until my lips were on a level with my intendant's ear. 

"How is it with him?" I inquired. 

"Dying, " whispered Rodenard in answer. "He has lost too much blood, andhe is probably bleeding inwardly as well. There is no hope of his life, but he may linger thus some little while, sinking gradually, and we canat least mitigate the suffering of his last moments. "

When presently the men returned with the things that Ganymede had askedfor, he mixed some pungent liquid with water, and, whilst a servant heldthe bowl, he carefully sponged the rebel's wound. This and a cordialthat he had given him to drink seemed to revive him and to afford himease. His breathing was no longer marked by any rasping sound, and hiseyes seemed to burn more intelligently. 

"I am dying--is it not so?" he asked, and Ganymede bowed his head insilence. The poor fellow sighed. "Raise me, " he begged, and when thisservice had been done him, his eyes wandered round until they found me. Then "Monsieur, " he said, "will you do me a last favour?"

"Assuredly, my poor friend, " I answered, going down on my knees besidehim. 

"You--you were not for the Duke?" he inquired, eyeing me more keenly. 

"No, monsieur. But do not let that disturb you; I have no interest inthis rising and I have taken no side. I am from Paris, on a journeyof--of pleasure. My name is Bardelys--Marcel de Bardelys. "

"Bardelys the Magnificent?" he questioned, and I could not repress asmile. 

"I am that overrated man. "

"But then you are for the King!" And a note of disappointment creptinto his voice. Before I could make him any answer, he had resumed. "Nomatter; Marcel de Bardelys is a gentleman, and party signifies littlewhen a man is dying. I am Rene de Lesperon, of Lesperon in Gascony, " hepursued. "Will you send word to my sister afterwards?"

I bowed my head without speaking. 

"She is the only relative I have, monsieur. But"--and his tone grewwistful--"there is one other to whom I would have you bear a message. "He raised his hand by a painful effort to the level of his breast. Strength failed him, and he sank back. "I cannot, monsieur, " he said ina tone of pathetic apology. "See; there is a chain about my neck witha locket. Take it from me. Take it now, monsieur. There are some papersalso, monsieur. Take all. I want to see them safely in your keeping. "

I did his bidding, and from the breast of his doublet I drew some looseletters and a locket which held the miniature of a woman's face. 

"I want you to deliver all to her, monsieur. "

"It shall be done, " I answered, deeply moved. 

"Hold it--hold it up, " he begged, his voice weakening. "Let me beholdthe face. "

Long his eyes rested on the likeness I held before him. At last, as onein a dream--

"Well-beloved, " he sighed. "Bien aimee!" And down his grey, haggardcheeks the tears came slowly. "Forgive this weakness, monsieur, " hewhispered brokenly. "We were to have been wed in a month, had I lived. "He ended with a sob, and when next he spoke it was more labouredly, asthough that sob had robbed him of the half of what vitality remained. "Tell her, monsieur, that my dying thoughts were of her. Tell--tellher--I--"

"Her name?" I cried, fearing he would sink before I learned it. "Tell meher name. "

He looked at me with eyes that were growing glassy and vacant. Then heseemed to brace himself and to rally for a second. 

"Her name?" he mused, in a far-off manner. "She is--Ma-de-moiselle de------"

His head rolled on the suddenly relaxed neck. He collapsed intoRodenard's arms. 

"Is he dead?" I asked. 

Rodenard nodded in silence. 

CHAPTER IV. A MAID IN THE MOONLIGHT

I do not know whether it was the influence of that thing lying in acorner of the barn under the cloak that Rodenard had flung over it, orwhether other influences of destiny were at work to impel me to riseat the end of a half-hour and announce my determination to set out onhorseback and find myself quarters more congenial. 

"To-morrow, " I instructed Ganymede, as I stood ready to mount, "you willretrace your steps with the others, and, finding the road to Lavedan, you will follow me to the chateau. "

"But you cannot hope to reach it to-night, monseigneur, through acountry that is unknown to you, " he protested. 

"I do not hope to reach it to-night. I will ride south until I come uponsome hamlet that will afford me shelter and, in the morning, direction. "

I left him with that, and set out at a brisk trot. Night had now fallen, but the sky was clear, and a crescent moon came opportunely if feebly todispel the gloom. 

I quitted the field, and went back until I gained a crossroad, where, turning to the right, I set my face to the Pyrenees, and rode brisklyamain. That I had chosen wisely was proved when some twenty minuteslater. I clattered into the hamlet of Mirepoix, and drew up before aninn flaunting the sign of a peacock--as if in irony of its humbleness, for it was no better than a wayside tavern. Neither stable-boy norostler was here, and the unclean, overgrown urchin to whom I entrustedmy horse could not say whether indeed Pere Abdon the landlord wouldbe able to find me a room to sleep in. I thirsted, however; and so Idetermined to alight, if it were only to drink a can of wine and obtaininformation of my whereabouts. 

As I was entering the hostelry there was a clatter of hoofs in thestreet, and four dragoons headed by a sergeant rode up and halted at thedoor of the Paon. They seemed to have ridden hard and some distance, fortheir horses were jaded almost to the last point of endurance. 

Within, I called the host, and having obtained a flagon of the bestvintage--Heaven fortify those that must be content with his worst!--Ipassed on to make inquiries touching my whereabouts and the way toLavedan. This I learnt was but some three or four miles distant. Aboutthe other table--there were but two within the room--stood the dragoonsin a whispered consultation, of which it had been well had I taken heed, for it concerned me more closely than I could have dreamt. 

"He answers the description, " said the sergeant, and though I heard thewords I took no thought that it was of me they spoke. 

"Padrieu, " swore one of his companions, "I'll wager it is our man. "

And then, just as I was noticing that Master Abdon, who had alsooverheard the conversation, was eyeing me curiously, the sergeantstepped up to me, and--

"What is your name, monsieur?" quoth he. 

I vouchsafed him a stare of surprise before asking in my turn "How maythat concern you?"

"Your pardon, my master, but we are on the King's business. "

I remembered then that he had said I answered some description. Withthat it flashed through my mind that they had been sent after me byHis Majesty to enforce my obedience to his wishes and to hinder mefrom reaching Lavedan. At once came the dominant desire to conceal myidentity that I might go unhindered. The first name that occurred to mewas that of the poor wretch I had left in the barn half an hour ago, andso--

"I am, " said I, "Monsieur de Lesperon, at your service. "

Too late I saw the mistake that I had made. I own it was a blunder thatno man of ordinary intelligence should have permitted himself to havecommitted. Remembering the unrest of the province, I should rather haveconcluded that their business was more like to be in that connection. 

"He is bold, at least, " cried one of the troopers, with a burst oflaughter. Then came the sergeant's voice, cold and formal, "In theKing's name, Monsieur de Lesperon, I arrest you. "

He had whipped out his sword, and the point was within an inch of mybreast. But his arm, I observed, was stretched to its fullest extent, which forbade his making a sudden thrust. To hamper him in the lungethere was the table between us. 

So, my mind working quickly in this desperate situation, and realizinghow dire and urgent the need to attempt an escape, I leapt suddenly backto find myself in the arms of his followers. But in moving I had caughtup by one of its legs the stool on which I had been sitting. As I raisedit, I eluded the pinioning grip of the troopers. I twisted in theirgrasp, and brought the stool down upon the head of one of them witha force that drove him to his knees. Up went that three-legged stoolagain, to descend like a thunderbolt upon the head of another. Thatfreed me. The sergeant was coming up behind, but another flourish of myimprovised battle-axe sent the two remaining soldiers apart to look totheir swords. Ere they could draw, I had darted like a hare betweenthem and out into the street. The sergeant, cursing them with horridvolubility, followed closely upon my heels. 

Leaping as far into the roadway as I could, I turned to meet thefellow's onslaught. Using the stool as a buckler, I caught his thrustupon it. So violently was it delivered that the point buried itself inthe wood and the blade snapped, leaving him a hilt and a stump of steel. I wasted no time in thought. Charging him wildly, I knocked him overjust as the two unhurt dragoons came stumbling out of the tavern. 

I gained my horse and vaulted into the saddle. Tearing the reins fromthe urchin that held them, and driving my spurs into the beast's flanks, I went careering down the street at a gallop, gripping tightly with myknees, whilst the stirrups, which I had had no time to step into, flewwildly about my legs. 

A pistol cracked behind me; then another, and a sharp, stinging pain inthe shoulder warned me that I was hit. But I took no heed of it then. The wound could not be serious, else I had already been out ofthe saddle, and it would be time enough to look to it when I hadoutdistanced my pursuers. I say my pursuers, for already there werehoofbeats behind me, and I knew that those gentlemen had taken to theirhorses. But, as you may recall, I had on their arrival noted thejaded condition of their cattle, whilst I bestrode a horse that wascomparatively fresh, so that pursuit had but small terrors for me. Nevertheless, they held out longer, and gave me more to do than I hadimagined would be the case. For nigh upon a half-hour I rode, before Icould be said to have got clear of them, and then for aught I knewthey were still following, resolved to hound me down by the aid of suchinformation as they might cull upon their way. 

I was come by then to the Garonne. I drew rein beside the swiftlyflowing stream, winding itself like a flood of glittering silver betweenthe black shadows of its banks. A little while I sat there listening, and surveying the stately, turreted chateau that loomed, a grey, noblepile, beyond the water. I speculated what demesne this might be, and Irealized that it was probably Lavedan. 

I pondered what I had best do, and in the end I took the resolve to swimthe river and knock at the gates. If it were indeed Lavedan, I had butto announce myself, and to one of my name surely its hospitalities wouldbe spread. If it were some other household, even then the name of Marcelde Bardelys should suffice to ensure me a welcome. 

By spurring and coaxing, I lured my steed into the river. There is aproverb having it that though you may lead a horse to the water youcannot make him drink. It would have now applied to my case, foralthough I had brought mine to the water I could not make him swim; or, at least, I could not make him breast the rush of the stream. Vainlydid I urge him and try to hold him; he plunged frantically, snorted, coughed, and struggled gamely, but the current was bearing us swiftlyaway, and his efforts brought us no nearer to the opposite shore. Atlast I slipped from his back, and set myself to swim beside him, leadinghim by the bridle. But even thus he proved unequal to the task ofresisting the current, so that in the end I let him go, and swam ashorealone, hoping that he would land farther down, and that I might thenrecapture him. When, however, I had reached the opposite bank, and stoodunder the shadow of the chateau, I discovered that the cowardly beasthad turned back, and, having scrambled out, was now trotting awayalong the path by which we had come. Having no mind to go after him, Iresigned myself to the loss, and turned my attention to the mansion nowbefore me. 

Some two hundred yards from the river it raised its great square bulkagainst the background of black, star-flecked sky. From the facadebefore me down to the spot where I stood by the water, came a flightof half a dozen terraces, each balustraded in white marble, ending insquare, flat-topped pillars of Florentine design. What moon there wasrevealed the quaint architecture of that stately edifice and glitteredupon the mullioned windows. But within nothing stirred; no yellowglimmer came to clash with the white purity of the moonlight; no soundof man or beast broke the stillness of the night, for all that the hourwas early. The air of the place was as that of some gigantic sepulchre. A little daunted by this all-enveloping stillness, I skirted theterraces and approached the house on the eastern side. Here I found anold-world drawbridge--now naturally in disuse--spanning a ditch fedfrom the main river for the erstwhile purposes of a moat. I crossed thebridge, and entered an imposing courtyard. Within this quadrangle thesame silence dwelt, and there was the same obscurity in the windows thatoverlooked it. I paused, at a loss how to proceed, and I leaned againsta buttress of the portcullis, what time I considered. 

I was weak from fasting, worn with hard riding, and faint from the woundin my shoulder, which had been the cause at least of my losing someblood. In addition to all this, I was shivering with the cold of my wetgarments, and generally I must have looked as little like that Bardelysthey called the Magnificent as you might well conceive. How, then, if Iwere to knock, should I prevail in persuading these people--whoever theymight be--of my identity? Infinitely more had I the air of some fugitiverebel, and it was more than probable that I should be kept in duranceto be handed over to my friends the dragoons, if later they came toride that way. I was separated from those who knew me, and as things nowstood--unless this were, indeed, Lavedan--it might be days before theyfound me again. 

I was beginning to deplore my folly at having cut myself adrift frommy followers in the first place, and having embroiled myself with thesoldiers in the second; I was beginning to contemplate the wisdom ofseeking some outhouse of this mansion wherein to lie until morning, whenof a sudden a broad shaft of light, coming from one of the windows onthe first floor, fell athwart the courtyard. Instinctively I crouchedback into the shadow of my friendly buttress, and looked up. 

That sudden shaft of light resulted from the withdrawal of the curtainsthat masked a window. At this window, which opened outward on to abalcony; I now beheld--and to me it was as the vision of Beatrice mayhave been to Dante--the white figure of a woman. The moonlight bathedher, as in her white robe she leaned upon the parapet gazing upward intothe empyrean. A sweet, delicate face I saw, not endowed, perhaps, withthat exquisite balance and proportion of feature wherein they tell usbeauty lies, but blessed with a wondrously dainty beauty all its own;a beauty, perhaps, as much of expression as of form; for in that gentlecountenance was mirrored every tender grace of girlhood, all that isfresh and pure and virginal. 

I held my breath, I think, as I stood in ravished contemplation of thatwhite vision. If this were Lavedan, and that the cold Roxalanne who hadsent my bold Chatellerault back to Paris empty-handed then were my taska very welcome one. 

How little it had weighed with me that I was come to Languedoc to woo awoman bearing the name of Roxalanne de Lavedan I have already shown. Buthere in this same Languedoc I beheld to-night a woman whom it seemed Imight have loved, for not in ten years--not, indeed, in all my life--hadany face so wrought upon me and called to my nature with so strong avoice. 

I gazed at that child, and I thought of the women that I had known--thebold, bedizened beauties of a Court said to be the first in Europe. Andthen it came to me that this was no demoiselle of Lavedan, no demoiselleat all in fact, for the noblesse of France owned no such faces. Candourand purity were not to be looked for in the high-bred countenancesof our great families; they were sometimes found in the faces of thechildren of their retainers. Yes; I had it now. This child was thedaughter of some custodian of the demesne before me. 

Suddenly, as she stood there in the moonlight, a song, sung athalf-voice, floated down on the calm air. It was a ditty of oldProvence, a melody I knew and loved, and if aught had been wanting toheighten the enchantment that already ravished me, that soft melodiousvoice had done it. Singing still, she turned and reentered the room, leaving wide the windows, so that faintly, as from a distance, her voicestill reached me after she was gone from sight. 

It was in that hour that it came to me to cast myself upon this faircreature's mercy. Surely one so sweet and saintly to behold would takecompassion on an unfortunate! Haply my wound and all the rest that I hadthat night endured made me dull-witted and warped my reason. 

With what strength I still possessed I went to work to scale herbalcony. The task was easy even for one in my spent condition. Thewall was thick with ivy, and, moreover, a window beneath afforded somesupport, for by standing on the heavy coping I could with my fingerstouch the sill of the balcony above. Thus I hoisted myself, andpresently I threw an arm over the parapet. Already I was astride of thatsame Parapet before she became aware of my presence. 

The song died suddenly on her lips, and her eyes, blue asforget-me-nots, were wide now with the fear that the sight of meoccasioned. Another second and there had been an outcry that would havebrought the house about our ears, when, stepping to the threshold of theroom, "Mademoiselle, " I entreated, "for the love of God, be silent! Imean you no harm. I am a fugitive. I am pursued. "

This was no considered speech. There had been no preparing of words; Ihad uttered them mechanically almost--perhaps by inspiration, for theywere surely the best calculated to enlist this lady's sympathy. And sofar as went the words themselves, they were rigorously true. 

With eyes wide open still, she confronted me, and I now observed thatshe was not so tall as from below I had imagined. She was, in fact, of ashort stature rather, but of proportions so exquisite that she conveyedan impression of some height. In her hand she held a taper by whoselight she had been surveying herself in her mirror at the moment ofmy advent. Her unbound hair of brown fell like a mantle about hershoulders, and this fact it was drew me to notice that she was inher night-rail, and that this room to which I had penetrated was herchamber. 

"Who are you?" she asked breathlessly, as though in such a pass myidentity were a thing that signified. 

I had almost answered her, as I had answered the troopers at Mirepoix, that I was Lesperon. Then, bethinking me that there was no need for suchequivocation here, I was on the point of giving her my name. But notingmy hesitation, and misconstruing it, she forestalled me. 

"I understand, monsieur, " said she more composedly. "And you need haveno fear. You are among friends. "

Her eyes had travelled over my sodden clothes, the haggard pallor of myface, and the blood that stained my doublet from the shoulder downward. From all this she had drawn her conclusions that I was a hunted rebel. She drew me into the room, and, closing the window, she dragged theheavy curtain across it, thereby giving me a proof of confidence thatsmote me hard--impostor that I was. 

"I crave your pardon, mademoiselle, for having startled you by the rudemanner of my coming, " said I, and never in my life had I felt less atease than then. "But I was exhausted and desperate. I am wounded, I haveridden hard, and I swam the river. "

The latter piece of information was vastly unnecessary, seeing that thewater from my clothes was forming a pool about my feet. "I saw you frombelow; mademoiselle, and surely, I thought, so sweet a lady would havepity on an unfortunate. " She observed that my eyes were upon her, andin an act of instinctive maidenliness she bore her hand to her throat todraw the draperies together and screen the beauties of her neck from myunwarranted glance, as though her daily gown did not reveal as much andmore of them. 

That act, however, served to arouse me to a sense of my position. Whatdid I there? It was a profanity--a defiling, I swore; from which you'llsee, that Bardelys was grown of a sudden very nice. 

"Monsieur, " she was saying, "you are exhausted. "

"But that I rode hard, " I laughed, "it is likely they had taken me toToulouse, were I might have lost my head before my friends could havefound and claimed me. I hope you'll see it is too comely a head to be solightly parted with. "

"For that, " said she, half seriously, half whimsically, "the ugliesthead would be too comely. "

I laughed softly, amusedly; then of a sudden, without warning, afaintness took me, and I was forced to brace myself against the wall, breathing heavily the while. At that she gave a little cry of alarm. 

"Monsieur, I beseech you to be seated. I will summon my father, and wewill find a bed for you. You must not retain those clothes. "

"Angel of goodness!" I muttered gratefully, and being still half dazed, I brought some of my Court tricks into that chamber by taking her handand carrying it towards my lips. But ere I had imprinted the intendedkiss upon her fingers--and by some miracle they were not withdrawn--myeyes encountered hers again. I paused as one may pause who contemplatesa sacrilege. For a moment she held my glance with hers; then I fellabashed, and released her hand. 

The innocence peeping out of that child's eyes it was that had in thatmoment daunted me, and made me tremble to think of being found there, and of the vile thing it would be to have her name coupled with mine. That thought lent me strength. I cast my weariness from me as though itwere a garment, and, straightening myself, I stepped of a sudden to thewindow. Without a word, I made shift to draw back the curtain when herhand, falling on my sodden sleeve, arrested me. 

"What will you do, monsieur?" she cried in alarm. "You may be seen. "

My mind was now possessed by the thing I should have thought of before. I climbed to her balcony, and my one resolve was to get me thence asquickly as might be. 

"I had not the right to enter here, " I muttered. "I--" I stopped short;to explain would only be to sully, and so, "Good-night! Adieu!" I endedbrusquely. 

"But, monsieur--" she began. 

"Let me go, " I commanded almost roughly, as I shook my arm free of hergrasp. 

"Bethink you that you are exhausted. If you go forth now, monsieur, youwill assuredly be taken. You must not go. "

I laughed softly, and with some bitterness, too, for I was angry withmyself. 

"Hush, child, " I said. "Better so, if it is to be. "

And with that I drew aside the curtains and pushed the leaves of thewindow apart. She remained standing in the room, watching me, her facepale, and hex eyes pained and puzzled. 

One last glance I gave her as I bestrode the rail of her balcony. ThenI lowered myself as I had ascended. I was hanging by my hands, seekingwith my foot for the coping of the window beneath me, when, suddenly, there came a buzzing in my ears. I had a fleeting vision of a whitefigure leaning on the balcony above me; then a veil seemed drawn overmy eyes; there came a sense of falling; a rush as of a tempestuous wind;then--nothing. 

CHAPTER V. THE VICOMTE DE LAVEDAN

When next I awakened, it was to find myself abed in an elegantapartment, spacious and sunlit, that was utterly strange to me. For someseconds I was content to lie and take no count of my whereabouts. Myeyes travelled idly over the handsome furnishings of that choicelyappointed chamber, and rested at last upon the lean, crooked figure ofa man whose back was towards me and who was busy with some phials at atable not far distant. Then recollection awakened also in me, and I setmy wits to work to grapple with my surroundings. I looked through theopen window, but from my position on the bed no more was visible thanthe blue sky and a faint haze of distant hills. 

I taxed my memory, and the events of yesternight recurred to me. Iremembered the girl, the balcony, and my flight ending in my giddinessand my fall. Had they brought me into that same chateau, or--Or what? Noother possibility came to suggest itself, and, seeing scant need to taxmy brains with speculation, since there was one there of whom I mightask the question--

"Hola, my master!" I called to him, and as I did so I essayed to move. The act wrung a sharp cry of pain from me. My left shoulder was numband sore, but in my right foot that sudden movement had roused a sharperpang. 

At my cry that little wizened old man swung suddenly round. He had theface of a bird of prey, yellow as a louis d'or with a great hooked nose, and a pair of beady black eyes that observed me solemnly. The mouthalone was the redeeming feature in a countenance that had otherwisebeen evil; it was instinct with good-humour. But I had small leisureto observe him then, for simultaneously with his turning there hadbeen another movement at my bedside, which drew my eyes elsewhere. Agentleman, richly dressed, and of an imposing height, approached me. 

"You are awake, monsieur?" he said in a half interrogative tone. 

"Will you do me the favour to tell me where I am, monsieur?" quoth I. 

"You do not know? You are at Lavedan. I am the Vicomte de Lavedan--atyour service. "

Although it was no more than I might have expected, yet a dull wonderfilled me, to which presently I gave expression by asking stupidly--

"At Lavedan? But how came I hither?"

"How you came is more than I can tell, " he laughed. "But I'll swear theKing's dragoons were not far behind you. We found you in the courtyardlast night; in a swoon of exhaustion, wounded in the shoulder, and witha sprained foot. It was my daughter who gave the alarm and called usto your assistance. You were lying under her widow. " Then, seeing thegrowing wonder in my eyes and misconstruing it into alarm: "Nay, have nofear, monsieur, " he cried. "You were very well advised in coming to us. You have fallen among friends. We are Orleanists too, --at Lavedan, forall that I was not in the fight at Castelnaudary. That was no fault ofmine. His Grace's messenger reached me overlate, and for all that I setout with a company of my men, I put back when I had reached Lautrec uponhearing that already a decisive battle had been fought and that our sidehad suffered a crushing defeat. " He uttered a weary sigh. 

"God help us, monsieur! Monseigneur de Richelieu is likely to have hisway with us. But let that be for the present. You are here, and you aresafe. As yet no suspicion rests on Lavedan. I was, as I have said, toolate for the fight, and so I came quietly back to save my skin, thatI might serve the Cause in whatever other way might offer still. Insheltering you I am serving Gaston d'Orleans, and, that I may continueso to do, I pray that suspicion may continue to ignore me. If they wereto learn of it at Toulouse or of how with money and in other ways I havehelped this rebellion--I make no doubt that my head would be the forfeitI should be asked to pay. "

I was aghast at the freedom of treasonable speech with which this verydebonnaire gentleman ventured to address an utter stranger. 

"But tell me, Monsieur de Lesperon, " resumed my host, "how is it withyou?"

I started in fresh astonishment. 

"How--how do you know that I am Lesperon?" I asked. 

"Ma foi!" he laughed, "do you imagine I had spoken so unreservedly to aman of whom I knew nothing? Think better of me, monsieur, I beseechyou. I found these letters in your pocket last night, and theirsuperscription gave me your identity. Your name is well known to me, " headded. "My friend Monsieur de Marsac has often spoken of you and of yourdevotion to the Cause, and it affords me no little satisfaction to be ofsome service to one whom by repute I have already learned to esteem. "

I lay back on my pillows, and I groaned. Here was a predicament!Mistaking me for that miserable rebel I had succoured at Mirepoix, andwhose letters I bore upon me that I might restore them to some one whosename he had failed to give me at the last moment, the Vicomte de Lavedanhad poured the damning story of his treason into my ears. 

What if I were now to enlighten him? What if I were to tell him that Iwas not Lesperon--no rebel at all, in fact--but Marcel de Bardelys, theKing's favourite? That he would account me a spy I hardly thought; butassuredly he would see that my life must be a danger to his own; he mustfear betrayal from me; and to protect himself he would be justifiedin taking extreme measures. Rebels were not addicted to an excess ofniceness in their methods, and it was more likely that I should rise nomore from the luxurious bed on which his hospitality had laid me. Buteven if I had exaggerated matters, and the Vicomte were not quite sobloodthirsty as was usual with his order, even if he chose to accept mypromise that I would forget what he had said, he must nevertheless--inview of his indiscretion--demand my instant withdrawal from Lavedan. Andwhat, then, of my wager with Chatellerault?

Then, in thinking of my wager, I came to think of Roxalanneherself--that dainty, sweet-faced child into whose chamber I hadpenetrated on the previous night. And would you believe it that I--thesatiated, cynical, unbelieving Bardelys--experienced dismay at the verythought of leaving Lavedan for no other reason than because it involvedseeing no more of that provincial damsel?

My unwillingness to be driven from her presence determined me to stay. I had come to Lavedan as Lesperon, a fugitive rebel. In that characterI had all but announced myself last night to Mademoiselle. In thatcharacter I had been welcomed by her father. In that character, then, Imust remain, that I might be near her, that I might woo and win her, andthus--though this, I swear, had now become a minor consideration withme--make good my boast and win the wager that must otherwise involve myruin. 

As I lay back with closed eyes and gave myself over to pondering thesituation, I took a pleasure oddly sweet in the prospect of urging mysuit under such circumstances. Chatellerault had given me a free hand. Iwas to go about the wooing of Mademoiselle de Lavedan as I chose. Buthe had cast it at me in defiance that not with all my magnificence, notwith all my retinue and all my state to dazzle her, should I succeed inmelting the coldest heart in France. 

And now, behold! I had cast from me all these outward embellishments; Icame without pomp, denuded of every emblem of wealth, of every sign ofpower; as a poor fugitive gentleman, I came, hunted, proscribed, andpenniless--for Lesperon's estate would assuredly suffer sequestration. To win her thus would, by my faith, be an exploit I might take pride in, a worthy achievement to encompass. 

And so I left things as they were, and since I offered no denial to theidentity that was thrust upon me, as Lesperon I continued to be known tothe Vicomte and to his family. 

Presently he called the old man to my bedside and I heard them talkingof my condition. 

"You think, then, Anatole, " he said in the end, "that in three or fourdays Monsieur de Lesperon may be able to rise?"

"I am assured of it, " replied the old servant. 

Whereupon, turning to me, "Be therefore of good courage, monsieur, " saidLavedan, "for your hurt is none so grievous after all. "

I was muttering my thanks and my assurances that I was in excellentspirits, when we were suddenly disturbed by a rumbling noise as ofdistant thunder. 

"Mort Dieu!" swore the Vicomte, a look of alarm coming into his face. With a bent head, he stood in a listening attitude. 

"What is it?" I inquired. 

"Horsemen--on the drawbridge, " he answered shortly. "A troop, by thesound. "

And then, in confirmation of these words, followed a stamping and rattleof hoofs on the flags of the courtyard below. The old servant stoodwringing his hands in helpless terror, and wailing, "Monsieur, monsieur!"

But the Vicomte crossed rapidly to the window and looked out. Then helaughed with intense relief; and in a wondering voice "They are nottroopers, " he announced. "They have more the air of a company ofservants in private livery; and there is a carriage--pardieu, twocarriages!"

At once the memory of Rodenard and my followers occurred to me, and Ithanked Heaven that I was abed where he might not see me, and that thushe would probably be sent forth empty-handed with the news that hismaster was neither arrived nor expected. 

But in that surmise I went too fast. Ganymede was of a tenacious mettle, and of this he now afforded proof. Upon learning that naught was knownof the Marquis de Bardelys at Lavedan, my faithful henchman announcedhis intention to remain there and await me, since that was, he assuredthe Vicomte, my destination. 

"My first impulse, " said Lavedan, when later he came to tell me of it, "was incontinently to order his departure. But upon considering thematter and remembering how high in power and in the King's favour standsthat monstrous libertine Bardelys, I deemed it wiser to affordshelter to this outrageous retinue. His steward--a flabby, insolentcreature--says that Bardelys left them last night near Mirepoix, to ridehither, bidding them follow to-day. Curious that we should have no newsof him! That he should have fallen into the Garonne and drowned himselfwere too great a good fortune to be hoped for. "

The bitterness with which he spoke of me afforded me ample cause forcongratulation that I had resolved to accept the role of Lesperon. Yet, remembering that my father and he had been good friends, his manner leftme nonplussed. What cause could he have for this animosity to the son?Could it be merely my position at Court that made me seem in his rebeleyes a natural enemy?

"You are acquainted with this Bardelys?" I inquired, by way of drawinghim. 

"I knew his father, " he answered gruffly. "An honest, uprightgentleman. "

"And the son, " I inquired timidly, "has he none of these virtues?"

"I know not what virtues he may have; his vices are known to all theworld. He is a libertine, a gambler, a rake, a spendthrift. They say heis one of the King's favourites, and that his monstrous extravaganceshave earned for him the title of 'Magnificent'. " He uttered a shortlaugh. "A fit servant for such a master as Louis the Just!"

"Monsieur le Vicomte, " said I, warming in my own defence, "I swearyou do him injustice. He is extravagant, but then he is rich; he isa libertine, but then he is young, and he has been reared amonglibertines; he is a gamester, but punctiliously honourable at play. Believe me, monsieur, I have some acquaintance with Marcel de Bardelys, and his vices are hardly so black as is generally believed; whilst inhis favour I think the same may be said that you have just said of hisfather--he is an honest, upright gentleman. "

"And that disgraceful affair with the Duchesse de Bourgogne?" inquiredLavedan, with the air of a man setting an unanswerable question. 

"Mon Dieu!" I cried, "will the world never forget that indiscretion? Anindiscretion of youth, no doubt much exaggerated outside Court circles. "

The Vicomte eyed me in some astonishment for a moment. 

"Monsieur de Lesperon, " he said at length, "you appear to hold thisBardelys in high esteem. He has a staunch supporter in you and a stoutadvocate. Yet me you cannot convince. " And he shook his head solemnly. "Even if I did not hold him to be such a man as I have pronounced him, but were to account him a paragon of all the virtues, his coming hitherremains an act that I must resent. "

"But why, Monsieur le Vicomte?"

"Because I know the errand that brings him to Lavedan. He comes to woomy daughter. "

Had he flung a bomb into my bed he could not more effectively havestartled me. 

"It astonishes you, eh?" he laughed bitterly. "But I can assure youthat it is so. A month ago I was visited by the Comte deChatellerault--another of His Majesty's fine favourites. He cameunbidden; offered no reason for his coming, save that he was making atour of the province for his amusement. His acquaintance with me was ofthe slightest, and I had no desire that it should increase; yet herehe installed himself with a couple of servants, and bade fair to take along stay. 

"I was surprised, but on the morrow I had an explanation. A courier, arriving from an old friend of mine at Court, bore me a letter with theinformation that Monsieur de Chatellerault was come to Lavedan atthe King's instigation to sue for my daughter's hand in marriage. Thereasons were not far to seek. The King, who loves him, would enrich him;the easiest way is by a wealthy alliance, and Roxalanne is accountedan heiress. In addition to that, my own power in the province is known, whilst my defection from the Cardinalist party is feared. What betterlink wherewith to attach me again to the fortunes of the Crown--forCrown and Mitre have grown to be synonymous in this topsy-turvyFrance--than to wed my daughter to one of the King's favourites?

"But for that timely warning, God knows what mischief had been wrought. As it was, Monsieur de Chatellerault had but seen my daughter upon twooccasions. On the very day that I received the tidings I speak of, I sent her to Auch to the care of some relatives of her mother's. Chatellerault remained a week. Then, growing restive, he asked when mydaughter would return. 'When you depart, monsieur, ' I answered him, and, being pressed for reasons, I dealt so frankly with him that withintwenty-four hours he was on his way back to Paris. "

The Vicomte paused and took a turn in the apartment, whilst I ponderedhis words, which were bringing me a curious revelation. Presently heresumed. 

"And now, Chatellerault having failed in his purpose, the King choosesa more dangerous person for the gratifying of his desires. He sends theMarquis, Marcel de Bardelys to Lavedan on the same business. No doubthe attributes Chatellerault's failure to clumsiness, and he has decidedthis time to choose a man famed for courtly address and gifted with sucharts of dalliance that he cannot fail but enmesh my daughter in them. Itis a great compliment that he pays us in sending hither the handsomestand most accomplished gentleman of all his Court--so fame has it--yet itis a compliment of whose flattery I am not sensible. Bardelys goes henceas empty-handed as went Chatellerault. Let him but show his face, andmy daughter journeys to Auch again. Am I not well advised, Monsieur deLesperon?"

"Why, yes, " I answered slowly, after the manner of one who deliberates, "if you are persuaded that your conclusions touching Bardelys arecorrect. "

"I am more than persuaded. What other business could bring him toLavedan?"

It was a question that I did not attempt to answer. Haply he did notexpect me to answer it. He left me free to ponder another issue of thissame business of which my mind was become very full. Chatellerault hadnot dealt fairly with me. Often, since I had left Paris, had I marvelledthat he came to be so rash as to risk his fortune upon a matter thatturned upon a woman's whim. That I possessed undeniable advantagesof person, of birth, and of wealth, Chatellerault could not havedisregarded. Yet these, and the possibility that they might suffice toengage this lady's affections, he appeared to have set at naught when heplunged into that rash wager. 

He must have realized that because he had failed was no reason topresume that I must also fail. There was no consequence in such anargument, and often, as I have said, had I marvelled during the pastdays at the readiness with which Chatellerault had flung down the gage. Now I held the explanation of it. He counted upon the Vicomte de Lavedanto reason precisely as he was reasoning, and he was confident that noopportunities would be afforded me of so much as seeing this beautifuland cold Roxalanne. 

It was a wily trap he had set me, worthy only of a trickster. 

Fate, however, had taken a hand in the game, and the cards were redealtsince I had left Paris. The terms of the wager permitted me to chooseany line of action that I considered desirable; but Destiny, it seemed, had chosen for me, and set me in a line that should at least sufficeto overcome the parental resistance--that breastwork upon whichChatellerault had so confidently depended. 

As the rebel Rene de Lesperon I was sheltered at Lavedan and madewelcome by my fellow-rebel the Vicomte, who already seemed much takenwith me, and who had esteemed me before seeing me from the much thatMonsieur de Marsac--whoever he might be--had told him of me. As Rene deLesperon I must remain, and turn to best account my sojourn, praying Godmeanwhile that this same Monsieur de Marsac might be pleased to refrainfrom visiting Lavedan whilst I was there. 

CHAPTER VI. IN CONVALESCENCE

Of the week that followed my coming to Lavedan I find some difficultyin writing. It was for me a time very crowded with events--events thatappeared to be moulding my character anew and making of me a persondifferent, indeed, from that Marcel de Bardelys whom in Paris theycalled the Magnificent. Yet these events, although significant in theirtotal, were of so vague and slight a nature in their detail, that when Icome to write of them I find really little that I may set down. 

Rodenard and his companions remained for two days at the chateau, and tome his sojourn there was a source of perpetual anxiety, for I knew nothow far the fool might see fit to prolong it. It was well for me thatthis anxiety of mine was shared by Monsieur de Lavedan, who disliked atsuch a time the presence of men attached to one who was so notoriouslyof the King's party. He came at last to consult me as to what measuresmight be taken to remove them, and I--nothing loath to conspire with himto so desirable end--bade him suggest to Rodenard that perhaps evil hadbefallen Monsieur de Bardelys, and that, instead of wasting his timeat Lavedan, he were better advised to be searching the province for hismaster. 

This counsel the Vicomte adopted, and with such excellent results thatthat very day--within the hour, in fact--Ganymede, aroused to a senseof his proper duty, set out in quest of me, not a little disturbed inmind--for with all his shortcomings the rascal loved me very faithfully. 

That was on the third day of my sojourn at Lavedan. On the morrow Irose, my foot being sufficiently recovered to permit it. I felt a littleweak from loss of blood, but Anatole--who, for all his evil countenance, was a kindly and gentle--servant was confident that a few days--a weekat most--would see me completely restored. 

Of leaving Lavedan I said nothing. But the Vicomte, who was one ofthe most generous and noble hearted men that it has ever been my goodfortune to meet, forestalled any mention of my departure by urging thatI should remain at the chateau until my recovery were completed, and, for that matter, as long thereafter as should suit my inclinations. 

"At Lavedan you will be safe, my friend, " he assured me; "for, as I havetold you, we are under no suspicion. Let me urge you to remain until theKing shall have desisted from further persecuting us. "

And when I protested and spoke of trespassing, he waived the point witha brusqueness that amounted almost to anger. 

"Believe, monsieur, that I am pleased and honoured at serving one whohas so stoutly served the Cause and sacrificed so much to it. "

At that, being not altogether dead to shame, I winced, and told myselfthat my behaviour was unworthy, and that I was practising a detestabledeception. Yet some indulgence I may justly claim in considerationof how far I was victim of circumstance. Did I tell him that I wasBardelys, I was convinced that I should never leave the chateau alive. Very noble-hearted was the Vicomte, and no man have I known more averseto bloodthirstiness, but he had told me much during the days that I hadlain abed, and many lives would be jeopardized did I proclaim what I hadlearned from him. Hence I argued that any disclosure of my identity mustperforce drive him to extreme measures for the sake of the friends hehad unwittingly betrayed. 

On the day after Rodenard's departure I dined with the family, and metagain Mademoiselle de Lavedan, whom I had not seen since the balconyadventure of some nights ago. The Vicomtesse was also present, a ladyof very austere and noble appearance--lean as a pike and with a mostformidable nose--but, as I was soon to discover, with a mind incliningovermuch to scandal and the high-seasoned talk of the Courts in whichher girlhood had been spent. 

From her lips I heard that day the old, scandalous story of Monseigneurde Richelieu's early passion for Anne of Austria. With much unction didshe tell us how the Queen had lured His Eminence to dress himself in themotley of a jester that she might make a mock of him in the eyes of thecourtiers she had concealed behind the arras of her chamber. 

This anecdote she gave us with much wealth of discreditable detail andscant regard for either her daughter's presence or for the blushes thatsuffused the poor child's cheeks. In every way she was a pattern of theclass of women amongst whom my youth had been spent, a class which haddone so much towards shattering my faith and lowering my estimate of hersex. Lavedan had married her and brought her into Languedoc, and hereshe spent her years lamenting the scenes of her youth, and prone, itwould seem, to make them matter for conversation whenever a newcomerchanced to present himself at the chateau. 

Looking from her to her daughter, I thanked Heaven that Roxalanne was noreproduction of the mother. She had inherited as little of her characteras of her appearance. Both in feature and in soul Mademoiselle deLavedan was a copy of that noble, gallant gentleman, her father. 

One other was present at that meal, of whom I shall have more to sayhereafter. This was a young man of good presence, save, perhaps, a tooobtrusive foppishness, whom Monsieur de Lavedan presented to me as adistant kinsman of theirs, one Chevalier de Saint-Eustache. He wasvery tall--of fully my own height--and of an excellent shape, althoughextremely young. But his head if anything was too small for his body, and his good-natured mouth was of a weakness that was confirmed by thesignificance of his chin, whilst his eyes were too closely set to augurfrankness. 

He was a pleasant fellow, seemingly of that negative pleasantnessthat lies in inoffensiveness, but otherwise dull and of an untutoredmind--rustic, as might be expected in one the greater part of whose lifehad been spent in his native province, and of a rusticity rendered allthe more flagrant by the very efforts he exerted to dissemble it. 

It was after madame had related that unsavoury anecdote touching theCardinal that he turned to ask me whether I was well acquainted with theCourt. I was near to committing the egregious blunder of laughing in hisface, but, recollecting myself betimes, I answered vaguely that I hadsome knowledge of it, whereupon he all but caused me to bound from mychair by asking me had I ever met the Magnificent Bardelys. 

"I--I am acquainted with him, " I answered warily. "Why do you ask?"

"I was reminded of him by the fact that his servants have been here fortwo days. You were expecting the Marquis himself, were you not, Monsieurle Vicomte?"

Lavedan raised his head suddenly, after the manner of a man who hasreceived an affront. 

"I was not, Chevalier, " he answered, with emphasis. "His intendant, aninsolent knave of the name of Rodenard, informed me that this Bardelysprojected visiting me. He has not come, and I devoutly hope that he maynot come. Trouble enough had I to rid myself of his servants, and butfor Monsieur de Lesperon's well-conceived suggestion they might still behere. "

"You have never met him, monsieur?" inquired the Chevalier. 

"Never, " replied our host in such a way that any but a fool must haveunderstood that he desired nothing less than such a meeting. 

"A delightful fellow, " murmured Saint-Eustache--"a brilliant, dazzlingpersonality. "

"You--you are acquainted with him?" I asked. 

"Acquainted?" echoed that boastful liar. "We were as brothers. "

"How you interest me! And why have you never told us?" quoth madame, hereyes turned enviously upon the young man--as enviously as were Lavedan'sturned in disgust. "It is a thousand pities that Monsieur de Bardelyshas altered his plans and is no longer coming to us. To meet such a manis to breathe again the air of the grand monde. You remember, Monsieurde Lesperon, that affair with the Duchess de Bourgogne?" And she smiledwickedly in my direction. 

"I have some recollection of it, " I answered coldly. "But I thinkthat rumour exaggerates. When tongues wag, a little rivulet is oftendescribed as a mountain torrent. "

"You would not say so did you but know what I know, " she informed meroguishly. "Often, I confess, rumour may swell the importance of such anaffaire, but in this case I do not think that rumour does it justice. "

I made a deprecatory gesture, and I would have had the subject changed, but ere I could make an effort to that end, the fool Saint-Eustache wasbabbling again. 

"You remember the duel that was fought in consequence, Monsieur deLesperon?"

"Yes, " I assented wearily. 

"And in which a poor young fellow lost his life, " growled the Vicomte. "It was practically a murder. "

"Nay, monsieur, " I cried, with a sudden heat that set them staring atme; "there you do him wrong. Monsieur de Bardelys was opposed to thebest blade in France. The man's reputation as a swordsman was of sucha quality that for a twelvemonth he had been living upon it, doing allmanner of unseemly things immune from punishment by the fear in whichhe was universally held. His behaviour in the unfortunate affair weare discussing was of a particularly shameful character. Oh, I know thedetails, messieurs, I can sure you. He thought to impose his reputationupon Bardelys as he had imposed it upon a hundred others, but Bardelyswas over-tough for his teeth. He sent that notorious young gentlemana challenge, and on the following morning he left him dead in thehorsemarket behind the Hotel Vendome. But far from a murder, monsieur, it was an act of justice, and the most richly earned punishment withwhich ever man was visited. "

"Even if so, " cried the Vicomte in some surprise, "why all this heat todefend a brawler?"

"A brawler?" I repeated after him. "Oh, no. That is a charge his worstenemies cannot make against Bardelys. He is no brawler. The duel inquestion was his first affair of the kind, and it has been his last, for unto him has clung the reputation that had belonged until then to LaVertoile, and there is none in France bold enough to send a challengeto him. " And, seeing what surprise I was provoking, I thought it well toinvolve another with me in his defence. So, turning to the Chevalier, "I am sure, " said I, "that Monsieur de Saint-Eustache will confirm mywords. "

Thereupon, his vanity being all aroused, the Chevalier set himselfto paraphrase all that I had said with a heat that cast mine into amiserable insignificance. 

"At least, " laughed the Vicomte at length, "he lacks not for champions. For my own part, I am content to pray Heaven that he come not toLavedan, as he intended. "

"Mais voyons, Gaston, " the Vicomtesse protested, "why harbour prejudice?Wait at least until you have seen him, that you may judge him foryourself. "

"Already have I judged him; I pray that I may never see him. "

"They tell me he is a very handsome man, " said she, appealing to mefor confirmation. Lavedan shot her a sudden glance of alarm, at which Icould have laughed. Hitherto his sole concern had been his daughter, butit suddenly occurred to him that perhaps not even her years might setthe Vicomtesse in safety from imprudences with this devourer of hearts, should he still chance to come that way. 

"Madame, " I answered, "he is accounted not ill-favored. " And with adeprecatory smile I added, "I am said somewhat to resemble him. "

"Say you so?" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows, and looking at memore closely than hitherto. And then it seemed to me that into herface crept a shade of disappointment. If this Bardelys were not morebeautiful than I, then he was not nearly so beautiful a man as she hadimagined. She turned to Saint-Eustache. 

"It is indeed so, Chevalier?" she inquired. "Do you note theresemblance?"

"Vanitas, vanitate, " murmured the youth, who had some scraps of Latinand a taste for airing them. "I can see no likeness--no trace of one. Monsieur de Lesperon is well enough, I should say. But Bardelys!" Hecast his eyes to the ceiling. "There is but one Bardelys in France. "

"Enfin, " I laughed, "you are no doubt well qualified to judge, Chevalier. I had flattered myself that some likeness did exist, butprobably you have seen the Marquis more frequently than have I, andprobably you know him better. Nevertheless, should he come his way, I will ask you to look at us side by side and be the judge of theresemblance. "

"Should I happen to be here, " he said, with a sudden constraint notdifficult to understand, "I shall be happy to act as arbiter. "

"Should you happen to be here?" I echoed questioningly. "But surely, should you hear that Monsieur de Bardelys is about to arrive, you willpostpone any departure you may be on the point of making, so that youmay renew this great friendship that you tell us you do the Marquis thehonour of entertaining for him?"

The Chevalier eyed me with the air of a man looking down from a greatheight upon another. The Vicomte smiled quietly to himself as he combedhis fair beard with his forefinger in a meditative fashion, whilst evenRoxalanne--who had sat silently listening to a conversation that shewas at times mercifully spared from following too minutely--flashed me ahumorous glance. To the Vicomtesse alone who in common with women ofher type was of a singular obtuseness--was the situation withoutsignificance. 

Saint-Eustache, to defend himself against my delicate imputation, andto show how well acquainted he was with Bardelys, plunged at once intoa thousand details of that gentleman's magnificence. He described hissuppers, his retinue, his equipages, his houses, his chateaux, hisfavour with the King, his successes with the fair sex, and I know notwhat besides--in all of which I confess that even to me there was acertain degree of novelty. Roxalanne listened with an air of amusementthat showed how well she read him. Later, when I found myself alonewith her by the river, whither we had gone after the repast andthe Chevalier's reminiscences were at an end, she reverted to thatconversation. 

"Is not my cousin a great fanfarron, monsieur, " she asked. 

"Surely you know your cousin better than I, " I answered cautiously. "Whyquestion me upon his character?"

"I was hardly questioning; I was commenting. He spent a fortnight inParis once, and he accounts himself, or would have us account him, intimate with every courtier at the Luxembourg. Oh, he is very amusing, this good cousin, but tiresome too. " She laughed, and there was thefaintest note of scorn in her amusement. "Now, touching this Marquis deBardelys, it is very plain that the Chevalier boasted when he said thatthey were as brothers--he and the Marquis--is it not? He grew ill atease when you reminded him of the possibility of the Marquis's visit toLavedan. " And she laughed quaintly to herself. "Do you think that he somuch as knows Bardelys?" she asked me suddenly. 

"Not so much as by sight, " I answered. "He is full of informationconcerning that unworthy gentleman, but it is only information that themeanest scullion in Paris might afford you, and just as inaccurate. "

"Why do you speak of him as unworthy? Are you of the same opinion as myfather?"

"Aye, and with better cause. "

"You know him well?"

"Know him? Pardieu, he is my worst enemy. A worn-out libertine; asneering, cynical misogynist; a nauseated reveller; a hateful egotist. There is no more unworthy person, I'll swear, in all France. Peste! Thevery memory of the fellow makes me sick. Let us talk of other things. "

But although I urged it with the best will and the best intentions inthe world, I was not to have my way. The air became suddenly heavy withthe scent of musk, and the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache stood before us, and forced the conversation once more upon the odious topic of Monsieurde Bardelys. 

The poor fool came with a plan of campaign carefully considered, bentnow upon overthrowing me with the knowledge he would exhibit, andwhereby he looked to encompass my humiliation before his cousin. 

"Speaking of Bardelys, Monsieur de Lesperon--"

"My dear Chevalier, we were no longer speaking of him. "

He smiled darkly. "Let us speak of him, then. "

"But are there not a thousand more interesting things that we mightspeak of?"

This he took for a fresh sign of fear, and so he pressed what heaccounted his advantage. 

"Yet have patience; there is a point on which perhaps you can give mesome information. "

"Impossible, " said I. 

"Are you acquainted with the Duchesse de Bourgogne?"

"I was, " I answered casually, and as casually I added, "Are you?"

"Excellently well, " he replied unhesitatingly. "I was in Paris at thetime of the scandal with Bardelys. "

I looked up quickly. 

"Was it then that you met her?" I inquired in an idle sort of way. 

"Yes. I was in the confidence of Bardelys, and one night after wehad supped at his hotel--one of those suppers graced by every wit inParis--he asked me if I were minded to accompany him to the Louvre. Wewent. A masque was in progress. "

"Ah, " said I, after the manner of one who suddenly takes in the entiresituation; "and it was at this masque that you met the Duchesse?"

"You have guessed it. Ah, monsieur, if I were to tell you of the thingsthat I witnessed that night, they would amaze you, " said he, with agreat air and a casual glance at Mademoiselle to see into what depth ofwonder these glimpses into his wicked past were plunging her. 

"I doubt it not, " said I, thinking that if his imagination were asfertile in that connection as it had been in mine he was likely, indeed, to have some amazing things to tell. "But do I understand you to saythat that was the time of the scandal you have touched upon?"

"The scandal burst three days after that masque. It came as a surpriseto most people. As for me--from what Bardelys had told me--I expectednothing less. "

"Pardon, Chevalier, but how old do you happen to be?"

"A curious question that, " said he, knitting his brows. 

"Perhaps. But will you not answer it?"

"I am twenty-one, " said he. "What of it?"

"You are twenty, mon cousin, " Roxalanne corrected him. 

He looked at her a second with an injured air. 

"Why, true--twenty! That is so, " he acquiesced; and again, "what of it?"he demanded. 

"What of it, monsieur?" I echoed. "Will you forgive me if I expressamazement at your precocity, and congratulate you upon it?"

His brows went if possible closer together and his face grew very red. He knew that somewhere a pitfall awaited him, yet hardly where. 

"I do not understand you. "

"Bethink you, Chevalier. Ten years have flown since this scandal yourefer to. So that at the time of your supping with Bardelys and the witsof Paris, at the time of his making a confidant of you and carrying youoff to a masque at the Louvre, at the time of his presenting you to theDuchesse de Bourgogne, you were just ten years of age. I never had causeto think over-well of Bardelys, but had you not told me yourself, Ishould have hesitated to believe him so vile a despoiler of innocence, such a perverter of youth. "

He crimsoned to the very roots of his hair. 

Roxalanne broke into a laugh. "My cousin, my cousin, " she cried, "theythat would become masters should begin early, is it not so?"

"Monsieur de Lesperon, " said he, in a very formal voice, "do you wish meto apprehend that you have put me through this catechism for the purposeof casting a doubt upon what I have said?"

"But have I done that? Have I cast a doubt?" I asked, with the utmostmeekness. 

"So I apprehend. "

"Then you apprehend amiss. Your words, I assure you, admit of no doubtwhatever. And now, monsieur, if you will have mercy upon me, we willtalk of other things. I am so weary of this unfortunate Bardelys and hisaffairs. He may be the fashion of Paris and at Court, but down here hisvery name befouls the air. Mademoiselle, " I said, turning to Roxalanne, "you promised me a lesson in the lore of flowers. "

"Come, then, " said she, and, being an exceedingly wise child, sheplunged straightway into the history of the shrubs about us. 

Thus did we avert a storm that for a moment was very imminent. Yet somemischief was done, and some good, too, perhaps. For if I made an enemyof the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache by humbling him in the eyes of theone woman before whom he sought to shine, I established a bond 'twixtRoxalanne and myself by that same humiliation of a foolish coxcomb, whose boastfulness had long wearied her. 

CHAPTER VII. THE HOSTILITY OF SAINT-EUSTACHE

In the days that followed I saw much of the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache. He was a very constant visitor at Lavedan, and the reason of it was notfar to seek. For my own part, I disliked him--I had done so fromthe moment when first I had set eyes on him--and since hatred, likeaffection, is often a matter of reciprocity, the Chevalier was not slowto return my dislike. Our manner gradually, by almost imperceptiblestages, grew more distant, until by the end of a week it had become sohostile that Lavedan found occasion to comment upon it. 

"Beware of Saint-Eustache, " he warned me. "You are becoming verymanifestly distasteful to each other, and I would urge you to have acare. I don't trust him. His attachment to our Cause is of a lukewarmcharacter, and he gives me uneasiness, for he may do much harm if heis so inclined. It is on this account that I tolerate his presence atLavedan. Frankly, I fear him, and I would counsel you to do no less. Theman is a liar, even if but a boastful liar and liars are never long outof mischief. "

The wisdom of the words was unquestionable, but the advice in them wasnot easily followed, particularly by one whose position was so peculiaras my own. In a way I had little cause to fear the harm the Chevaliermight do me, but I was impelled to consider the harm that at the sametime he might do the Vicomte. 

Despite our growing enmity, the Chevalier and I were very frequentlythrown together. The reason for this was, of course, that whereverRoxalanne was to be found there, generally, were we both to be foundalso. Yet had I advantages that must have gone to swell a rancour basedas much upon jealousy as any other sentiment, for whilst he was but adaily visitor at Lavedan, I was established there indefinitely. 

Of the use that I made of that time I find it difficult to speak. Fromthe first moment that I had beheld Roxalanne I had realized the truth ofChatellerault's assertion that I had never known a woman. He was right. Those that I had met and by whom I had judged the sex had, by contrastwith this child, little claim to the title. Virtue I had accounted ashadow without substance; innocence, a synonym for ignorance; love, afable, a fairy tale for the delectation of overgrown children. 

In the company of Roxalanne de Lavedan all those old, cynical beliefs, built up upon a youth of undesirable experiences, were shattered andthe error of them exposed. Swiftly was I becoming a convert to the faithwhich so long I had sneered at, and as lovesick as any unfledged youthin his first amour. 

Damn! It was something for a man who had lived as I had lived to havehis pulses quicken and his colour change at a maid's approach; to findhimself colouring under her smile and paling under her disdain; to havehis mind running on rhymes, and his soul so enslaved that, if she is notto be won, chagrin will dislodge it from his body. 

Here was a fine mood for a man who had entered upon his businessby pledging himself to win and wed this girl in cold and supremeindifference to her personality. And that pledge, how I cursed it duringthose days at Lavedan! How I cursed Chatellerault, cunning, subtletrickster that he was! How I cursed myself for my lack of chivalry andhonour in having been lured so easily into so damnable a business! Forwhen the memory of that wager rose before me it brought despair in itstrain. Had I found Roxalanne the sort of woman that I had looked tofind--the only sort that I had ever known--then matters had been easy. I had set myself in cold blood, and by such wiles as I knew, to win suchaffection as might be hers to bestow; and I would have married her inmuch the same spirit as a man performs any other of the necessary actsof his lifetime and station. I would have told her that I was Bardelys, and to the woman that I had expected to find there had been nodifficulty in making the confession. But to Roxalanne! Had there beenno wager, I might have confessed my identity. As it was, I found itimpossible to avow the one without the other. For the sweet innocencethat invested her gentle, trusting soul must have given pause to anybut the most abandoned of men before committing a vileness in connectionwith her. 

We were much together during that week, and just as day by day, hour byhour, my passion grew and grew until it absorbed me utterly, so, too, did it seem to me that it awakened in her a responsive note. There wasan odd light at times in her soft eyes; I came upon her more than oncewith snatches of love-songs on her lips, and when she smiled uponme there was a sweet tenderness in her smile, which, had things beendifferent, would have gladdened my soul beyond all else; but which, things being as they were, was rather wont to heighten my despair. Iwas no coxcomb; I had had experiences, and I knew these signs. Butsomething, too, I guessed of the heart of such a one as Roxalanne. Tothe full I realized the pain and shame I should inflict upon her whenmy confession came; I realized, too, how the love of this dear child, so honourable and high of mind, must turn to contempt and scorn whenI plucked away my mask, and let her see how poor a countenance I worebeneath. 

And yet I drifted with the tide of things. It was my habit so to drift, and the habit of a lifetime is not to be set at naught in a day by aresolve, however firm. A score of times was I reminded that an evil isbut increased by being ignored. A score of times confession trembledon my lips, and I burned to tell her everything from its inception--theenvironment that had erstwhile warped me, the honesty by which I was nowinspired--and so cast myself upon the mercy of her belief. 

She might accept my story, and, attaching credit to it, forgive me thedeception I had practised, and recognize the great truth that must ringout in the avowal of my love. But, on the other hand, she might notaccept it; she might deem my confession a shrewd part of my scheme, andthe dread of that kept me silent day by day. 

Fully did I see how with every hour that sped confession became moreand more difficult. The sooner the thing were done, the greater thelikelihood of my being believed; the later I left it, the more probablewas it that I should be discredited. Alas! Bardelys, it seemed, hadadded cowardice to his other short-comings. 

As for the coldness of Roxalanne, that was a pretty fable ofChatellerault's; or else no more than an assumption, an invention ofthe imaginative La Fosse. Far, indeed, from it, I found no arroganceor coldness in her. All unversed in the artifices of her sex, allunacquainted with the wiles of coquetry, she was the very incarnationof naturalness and maidenly simplicity. To the tales that--with manyexpurgations--I told her of Court life, to the pictures that I drewof Paris, the Luxembourg, the Louvre, the Palais Cardinal, and thecourtiers that thronged those historic palaces, she listened avidly andenthralled; and much as Othello won the heart of Desdemona by a recitalof the perils he had endured, so it seemed to me was I winning the heartof Roxalanne by telling her of the things that I had seen. 

Once or twice she expressed wonder at the depth and intimacy of theknowledge of such matters exhibited by a simple Gascon gentleman, whereupon I would urge, in explanation, the appointment in the Guardsthat Lesperon had held some few years ago, a position that will revealmuch to an observant man. 

The Vicomte noted our growing intimacy, yet set no restraint upon it. Down in his heart I believe that noble gentleman would have beenwell pleased had matters gone to extremes between us, for howeverimpoverished he might deem me; Lesperon's estates in Gascony being, asI have said, likely to suffer sequestration in view of his treason--heremembered the causes of this and the deep devotion of the man Iimpersonated to the affairs of Gaston d'Orleans. 

Again, he feared the very obvious courtship of the Chevalier deSaint-Eustache, and he would have welcomed a turn of events that wouldeffectually have frustrated it. That he did not himself interfere sofar as the Chevalier's wooing was concerned, I could but set down to themistrust of Saint-Eustache--amounting almost to fear--of which he hadspoken. 

As for the Vicomtesse, the same causes that had won me some of thedaughter's regard gained me also no little of the mother's. 

She had been attached to the Chevalier until my coming. But what did theChevalier know of the great world compared with what I could tell? Herlove of scandal drew her to me with inquiries upon this person and thatperson, many of them but names to her. 

My knowledge and wealth of detail--for all that I curbed it lest Ishould seem to know too much--delighted her prurient soul. Had she beenmore motherly, this same knowledge that I exhibited should have made herponder what manner of life I had led, and should have inspired herto account me no fit companion for her daughter. But a selfish woman, little inclined to be plagued by the concerns of another--even when thatother was her daughter--she left things to the destructive course thatthey were shaping. 

And so everything--if we except perhaps the Chevalier deSaint-Eustache--conspired to the advancement of my suit, in a mannerthat must have made Chatellerault grind his teeth in rage if he couldhave witnessed it, but which made me grind mine in despair when Ipondered the situation in detail. 

One evening--I had been ten days at the chateau--we went a half-leagueor so up the Garonne in a boat, she and I. As we were returning, drifting with the stream, the oars idle in my hand, I spoke of leavingLavedan. 

She looked up quickly; her expression was almost of alarm, and her eyesdilated as they met mine--for, as I have said, she was all unversed inthe ways of her sex, and by nature too guileless to attempt to disguiseher feelings or dissemble them. 

"But why must you go so soon?" she asked. "You are safe at Lavedan, andabroad you may be in danger. It was but two days ago that they tooka poor young gentleman of these parts at Pau; so that you see thepersecution is not yet ended. Are you"--and her voice trembled ever soslightly--"are you weary of us, monsieur?"

I shook my head at that, and smiled wistfully. 

"Weary?" I echoed. "Surely, mademoiselle, you do not think it? Surelyyour heart must tell you something very different?"

She dropped her eyes before the passion of my gaze. And when presentlyshe answered me, there was no guile in her words; there were thedictates of the intuitions of her sex, and nothing more. 

"But it is possible, monsieur. You are accustomed to the great world--"

"The great world of Lesperon, in Gascony?" I interrupted. 

"No, no; the great world you have inhabited at Paris and elsewhere. I can understand that at Lavedan you should find little of interest, and--and that your inactivity should render you impatient to be gone. "

"If there were so little to interest me then it might be as you say. But, oh, mademoiselle--" I ceased abruptly. Fool! I had almost fallen aprey to the seductions that the time afforded me. The balmy, languorouseventide, the broad, smooth river down which we glided, the foliage, the shadows on the water, her presence, and our isolation amid suchsurroundings, had almost blotted out the matter of the wager and of myduplicity. 

She laughed a little nervous laugh, and--maybe to ease the tensionthat my sudden silence had begotten--"You see, " she said, "how yourimagination deserts you when you seek to draw upon it for proof of whatyou protest. You were about to tell me of--of the interests that holdyou at Lavedan, and when you come to ponder them, you find that youcan think of nothing. Is it--is it not so?" She put the question verytimidly, as if half afraid of the answer she might provoke. 

"No; it is not so, " I said. 

I paused a moment, and in that moment I wrestled with myself. Confessionand avowal--confession of what I had undertaken, and avowal of the lovethat had so unexpectedly come to me--trembled upon my lips, to be drivenshuddering away in fear. 

Have I not said that this Bardelys was become a coward? Then mycowardice suggested a course to me--flight. I would leave Lavedan. Iwould return to Paris and to Chatellerault, owning defeat and paying mywager. It was the only course open to me. My honour, so tardily aroused, demanded no less. Yet, not so much because of that as because it wassuddenly revealed to me as the easier course, did I determine to pursueit. What thereafter might become of me I did not know, nor in that hourof my heart's agony did it seem to matter overmuch. 

"There is much, mademoiselle, much, indeed, to hold me firmly atLavedan, " I pursued at last. "But my--my obligations demand of me that Idepart. "

"You mean the Cause, " she cried. "But, believe me, you can do nothing. To sacrifice yourself cannot profit it. Infinitely better you can servethe Duke by waiting until the time is ripe for another blow. And howcan you better preserve your life than by remaining at Lavedan until thepersecutions are at an end?"

"I was not thinking of the Cause, mademoiselle, but of myself alone--ofmy own personal honour. I would that I could explain; but I am afraid, "I ended lamely. 

"Afraid?" she echoed, now raising her eyes in wonder. 

"Aye, afraid. Afraid of your contempt, of your scorn. "

The wonder in her glance increased and asked a question that I could notanswer. I stretched forward, and caught one of the hands lying idle inher lap. 

"Roxalanne, " I murmured very gently, and my tone, my touch, and the useof her name drove her eyes for refuge behind their lids again. A flushspread upon the ivory pallor of her face, to fade as swiftly, leaving itvery white. Her bosom rose and fell in agitation, and the little hand Iheld trembled in my grasp. There was a moment's silence. Not that Ihad need to think or choose my words. But there was a lump in mythroat--aye, I take no shame in confessing it, for this was the firsttime that a good and true emotion had been vouchsafed me since theDuchesse de Bourgogne had shattered my illusions ten years ago. 

"Roxalanne, " I resumed presently, when I was more master of myself, "wehave been good friends, you and I, since that night when I climbed forshelter to your chamber, have we not?"

"But yes, monsieur, " she faltered. 

"Ten days ago it is. Think of it--no more than ten days. And it seems asif I had been months at Lavedan, so well have we become acquainted. In these ten days we have formed opinions of each other. But with thisdifference, that whilst mine are right, yours are wrong. I have come toknow you for the sweetest, gentlest saint in all this world. Would toGod I had known you earlier! It might have been very different; I mighthave been--I would have been--different, and I would not have donewhat I have done. You have come to know me for an unfortunate but honestgentleman. Such am I not. I am under false colours here, mademoiselle. Unfortunate I may be--at least, of late I seem to have become so. HonestI am not--I have not been. There, child, I can tell you no more. Iam too great a coward. But when later you shall come to hear thetruth--when, after I am gone, they may tell you a strange story touchingthis fellow Lesperon who sought the hospitality of your father'shouse--bethink you of my restraint in this hour; bethink you of mydeparture. You will understand these things perhaps afterwards. Butbethink you of them, and you will unriddle them for yourself, perhaps. Be merciful upon me then; judge me not over-harshly. "

I paused, and for a moment we were silent. Then suddenly she looked up;her fingers tightened upon mine. 

"Monsieur de Lesperon, " she pleaded, "of what do speak? You aretorturing me, monsieur. "

"Look in my face, Roxalanne. Can you see nothing there of how I amtorturing myself?"

"Then tell me, monsieur, " she begged, her voice a very caress ofsuppliant softness, --"tell me what vexes you and sets a curb uponyour tongue. You exaggerate, I am assured. You could do nothingdishonourable, nothing vile. "

"Child, " I cried, "I thank God that you are right! I cannot do what isdishonourable, and I will not, for all that a month ago I pledged myselfto do it!"

A sudden horror, a doubt, a suspicion flashed into her glance. 

"You--you do not mean that you are a spy?" she asked; and from my hearta prayer of thanks went up to Heaven that this at least it was minefrankly to deny. 

"No, no--not that. I am no spy. "

Her face cleared again, and she sighed. 

"It is, I think, the only thing I could not forgive. Since it is notthat, will you not tell me what it is?"

For a moment the temptation to confess, to tell her everything, wasagain upon me. But the futility of it appalled me. 

"Don't ask me, " I besought her; "you will learn it soon enough. " ForI was confident that once my wager was paid, the news of it and of theruin of Bardelys would spread across the face of France like a rippleover water. Presently--

"Forgive me for having come into your life, Roxalanne!" I implored her, and then I sighed again. "Helas! Had I but known you earlier! I did notdream such women lived in this worn-out France. "

"I will not pry, monsieur, since your resolve appears to be so firm. Butif--if after I have heard this thing you speak of, " she said presently, speaking with averted eyes, "and if, having heard it, I judge you moremercifully than you judge yourself, and I send for you, will you--willyou come back to Lavedan?"

My heart gave a great bound--a great, a sudden throb of hope. But assudden and as great was the rebound into despair. 

"You will not send for me, be assured of that, " I said with finality;and we spoke no more. 

I took the oars and plied them vigorously. I was in haste to end thesituation. Tomorrow I must think of my departure, and, as I rowed, Ipondered the words that had passed between us. Not one word of lovehad there been, and yet, in the very omission of it, avowal had lain oneither side. A strange wooing had been mine--a wooing that precluded thepossibility of winning, and yet a wooing that had won. Aye, it had won;but it might not take. I made fine distinctions and quaint paradoxes asI tugged at my oars, for the human mind is a curiously complex thing, and with some of us there is no such spur to humour as the sting ofpain. 

Roxalanne sat white and very thoughtful, but with veiled eyes, so that Imight guess nothing of what passed within her mind. 

At last we reached the chateau, and as I brought the boat to the terracesteps, it was Saint-Eustache who came forward to offer his wrist toMademoiselle. 

He noted the pallor of her face, and darted me a quick, suspicion-ladenglance. As we were walking towards the chateau--

"Monsieur de Lesperon, " said he in a curious tone, "do you know that arumour of your death is current in the province?"

"I had hoped that such a rumour might get abroad when I disappeared, " Ianswered calmly. 

"And you have taken no single step to contradict it?"

"Why should I, since in that rumour may be said to lie my safety?"

"Nevertheless, monsieur, voyons. Surely you might at least relieve theanxieties the affliction, I might almost say--of those who are mourningyou. "

"Ah!" said I. "And who may these be?"

He shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips in a curiously deprecatorysmile. With a sidelong glance at Mademoiselle--

"Do you need that I name Mademoiselle de Marsac?" he sneered. 

I stood still, my wits busily working, my face impassive under hisscrutinizing glance. In a flash it came to me that this must be thewriter of some of the letters Lesperon had given me, the original of theminiature I carried. 

As I was silent, I grew suddenly conscious of another pair of eyesobserving me, Mademoiselle's. She remembered what I had said, she mayhave remembered how I had cried out the wish that I had met her earlier, and she may not have been slow to find an interpretation for my words. Icould have groaned in my rage at such a misinterpretation. I could havetaken the Chevalier round to the other side of the chateau and killedhim with the greatest relish in the world. But I restrained myself, Iresigned myself to be misunderstood. What choice had I?

"Monsieur de Saint-Eustache, " said I very coldly, and looking himstraight between his close-set eyes, "I have permitted you manyliberties, but there is one that I cannot permit any one--and, much as Ihonour you, I can make no exception in your favour. That is to interferein my concerns and presume to dictate to me the manner in which I shallconduct them. Be good enough to bear that in your memory. "

In a moment he was all servility. The sneer passed out of his face, thearrogance out of his demeanour. He became as full of smiles and capersas the meanest sycophant. 

"You will forgive me, monsieur!" he cried, spreading his hands, and withthe humblest smile in the world. "I perceive that I have taken a greatliberty; yet you have misunderstood its purport. I sought to sound youtouching the wisdom of a step upon which I have ventured. "

"That is, monsieur?" I asked, throwing back my head, with the scent ofdanger breast high. 

"I took it upon myself to-day to mention the fact that you are alive andwell to one who had a right, I thought, to know of it, and who is cominghither tomorrow. "

"That was a presumption you may regret, " said I between my teeth. "Towhom do you impart this information?"

"To your friend, Monsieur de Marsac, " he answered, and through hismask of humility the sneer was again growing apparent. "He will be heretomorrow, " he repeated. 

Marsac was that friend of Lesperon's to whose warm commendation ofthe Gascon rebel I owed the courtesy and kindness that the Vicomte deLavedan had meted out to me since my coming. 

Is it wonderful that I stood as if frozen, my wits refusing to work andmy countenance wearing, I doubt not, a very stricken look? Here was onecoming to Lavedan who knew Lesperon--one who would unmask me and saythat I was an impostor. What would happen then? A spy they would of acertainty account me, and that they would make short work of me I neverdoubted. But that was something that troubled me less than the opinionMademoiselle must form. How would she interpret what I had said thatday? In what light would she view me hereafter?

Such questions sped like swift arrows through my mind, and in theirtrain came a dull anger with myself that I had not told her everythingthat afternoon. It was too late now. The confession would come no longerof my own free will, as it might have done an hour ago, but would beforced from me by the circumstances that impended. Thus it would nolonger have any virtue to recommend it to her mercy. 

"The news seems hardly welcome, Monsieur de Lesperon, " said Roxalannein a voice that was inscrutable. Her tone stirred me, for it betokenedsuspicion already. Something might yet chance to aid me, and in the meanwhile I might spoil all did I yield to this dread of the morrow. By aneffort I mastered myself, and in tones calm and level, that betrayednothing of the tempest in my soul--

"It is not welcome, mademoiselle, " I answered. "I have excellent reasonsfor not desiring to meet Monsieur de Marsac. "

"Excellent, indeed, are they!" lisped Saint-Eustache, with an ugly droopat the corners of his mouth. "I doubt not you'll find it hard to offera plausible reason for having left him and his sister without news thatyou were alive. "

"Monsieur, " said I at random, "why will you drag in his sister's name?"

"Why?" he echoed, and he eyed me with undisguised amusement. He wasstanding erect, his head thrown back, his right arm outstretched fromthe shoulder, and his hand resting lightly upon the gold mount of hisberibboned cane. He let his eyes wander from me to Roxalanne, then backagain to me. At last: "Is it wonderful that I should drag in the name ofyour betrothed?" said he. "But perhaps you will deny that Mademoisellede Marsac is that to you?" he suggested. 

And I, forgetting for the moment the part I played and the man whoseidentity I had put on, made answer hotly: "I do deny it. "

"Why, then, you lie, " said he, and shrugged hits shoulders with insolentcontempt. 

In all my life I do not think it could be said of me that I had evergiven way to rage. Rude, untutored minds may fall a prey to passion, but a gentleman, I hold, is never angry. Nor was I then, so far as theoutward signs of anger count. I doffed my hat with a sweep to Roxalanne, who stood by with fear and wonder blending in her glance. 

"Mademoiselle, you will forgive that I find it necessary to birch thisbabbling schoolboy in your presence. "

Then, with the pleasantest manner in the world, I stepped aside, andplucked the cane from the Chevalier's hand before he had so much asguessed what I was about. I bowed before him with the utmost politeness, as if craving his leave and tolerance for what I was about to do, andthen, before he had recovered from his astonishment, I had laid thatcane three times in quick succession across his shoulders. With a cry atonce of pain and of mortification, he sprang back, and his hand droppedto his hilt. 

"Monsieur, " Roxalanne cried to him, "do you not see that he is unarmed?"

But he saw nothing, or, if he saw, thanked Heaven that things were insuch case, and got his sword out. Thereupon Roxalanne would have steppedbetween us, but with arm outstretched I restrained her. 

"Have no fear, mademoiselle, " said I very quietly; for if the wrist thathad overcome La Vertoile were not with a stick a match for a couple ofsuch swords as this coxcomb's, then was I forever shamed. 

He bore down upon me furiously, his point coming straight for my throat. I took the blade on the cane; then, as he disengaged and came at melower, I made counter-parry, and pursuing the circle after I had caughthis steel, I carried it out of his hand. It whirled an instant, a shimmering wheel of light, then it clattered against the marblebalustrade half a dozen yards away. With his sword it seemed that hiscourage, too, departed, and he stood at my mercy, a curious picture offoolishness, surprise, and fear. 

Now the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache was a young man, and in the youngwe can forgive much. But to forgive such an act as he had been guiltyof--that of drawing his sword upon a man who carried no weapons--wouldhave been not only a ridiculous toleration, but an utter neglect ofduty. As an older man it behoved me to read the Chevalier a lesson inmanners and gentlemanly feeling. So, quite dispassionately, and purelyfor his own future good, I went about the task, and administered him athrashing that for thoroughness it would be hard to better. I was notdiscriminating. I brought my cane down with a rhythmical precision, andwhether it took him on the head, the back, or the shoulders, I heldto be more his affair than mine. I had a moral to inculcate, and theinjuries he might receive in the course of it were inconsiderabledetails so that the lesson was borne in upon his soul. Two or threetimes he sought to close with me, but I eluded him; I had no mind todescend to a vulgar exchange of blows. My object was not to brawl, but to administer chastisement, and this object I may claim to haveaccomplished with a fair degree of success. 

At last Roxalanne interfered; but only when one blow a little moreviolent, perhaps, than its precursors resulted in the sudden snapping ofthe cane and Monsieur de Eustache's utter collapse into a moaning heap. 

"I deplore, mademoiselle, to have offended your sight with such aspectacle, but unless these lessons are administered upon the instanttheir effect is not half so salutary. "

"He deserved it, monsieur, " said she, with a note almost of fiercenessin her voice. And of such poor mettle are we that her resentment againstthat groaning mass of fopperies and wheals sent a thrill of pleasurethrough me. I walked over to the spot where his sword had fallen, andpicked it up. 

"Monsieur de Saint-Eustache, " said I, "you have so dishonoured thisblade that I do not think you would care to wear it again. " Sayingwhich, I snapped it across my knee, and flung it far out into the river, for all that the hilt was a costly one, richly wrought in bronze andgold. 

He raised his livid countenance, and his eyes blazed impotent fury. 

"Par la mort Dieu!" he cried hoarsely, "you shall give me satisfactionfor this!"

"If you account yourself still unsatisfied, I am at your service whenyou will, " said I courteously. 

Then, before more could be said, I saw Monsieur de Lavedan and theVicomtesse approaching hurriedly across the parterre. The Vicomte'sbrow was black with what might have appeared anger, but which I rightlyconstrued into apprehension. 

"What has taken place? What have you done?" he asked of me. 

"He has brutally assaulted the Chevalier, " cried Madame shrilly, her eyes malevolently set upon me. "He is only a child, this poorSaint-Eustache, " she reproached me. "I saw it all from my window, Monsieur de Lesperon. It was brutal; it was cowardly. So to beat a boy!Shame! If you had a quarrel with him, are there not prescribed methodsfor their adjustment between gentlemen? Pardieu, could you not havegiven him proper satisfaction?"

"If madame will give herself the trouble of attentively examiningthis poor Saint-Eustache, " said I, with a sarcasm which her virulenceprompted, "you will agree, I think, that I have given him very properand very thorough satisfaction. I would have met him sword in hand, butthe Chevalier has the fault of the very young--he is precipitate; he wasin too great a haste, and he could not wait until I got a sword. So Iwas forced to do what I could with a cane. "

"But you provoked him, " she flashed back. 

"Whoever told you so has misinformed you, madame. On the contrary, heprovoked me. He gave me the lie. I struck him--could I do less?--and hedrew. I defended myself, and I supplemented my defence by a caning, sothat this poor Saint-Eustache might realize the unworthiness of what hehad done. That is all, madame. "

But she was not so easily to be appeased, not even when Mademoiselle andthe Vicomte joined their voices to mine in extenuation of my conduct. Itwas like Lavedan. For all that he was full of dread of the result andof the vengeance Saint-Eustache might wreak--boy though he was--heexpressed himself freely touching the Chevalier's behaviour and thefittingness of the punishment that had overtaken him. 

The Vicomtesse stood in small awe of her husband, but his judgment upona point of honour was a matter that she would not dare contest. Shewas ministering to the still prostrate Chevalier who, I think, remained prostrate now that he might continue to make appeal to hersympathy--when suddenly she cut in upon Roxalanne's defence of me. 

"Where have you been?" she demanded suddenly. 

"When, my mother?"

"This afternoon, " answered the Vicomtesse impatiently. "The Chevalierwas waiting two hours for you. "

Roxalanne coloured to the roots of her hair. The Vicomte frowned. 

"Waiting for me, my mother? But why for me?"

"Answer my question--where have you been?"

"I was with Monsieur de Lesperon, " she answered simply. 

"Alone?" the Vicomtesse almost shrieked. 

"But yes. " The poor child's tones were laden with wonder at thiscatechism. 

"God's death!" she snapped. "It seems that my daughter is no betterthan--"

Heaven knows what may have been coming, for she had the most virulent, scandalous tongue that I have ever known in a woman's head--which ismuch for one who has lived at Court to say. But the Vicomte, sharingmy fears, perhaps, and wishing to spare the child's ears, interposedquickly "Come, madame, what airs are these? What sudden assumptionof graces that we do not affect? We are not in Paris. This is notthe Luxembourg. En province comme en province, and here we are simplefolk--"

"Simple folk?" she interrupted, gasping. "By God, am I married to aploughman? Am I Vicomtesse of Lavedan, or the wife of a boor of thecountryside? And is the honour of your daughter a matter--"

"The honour of my daughter is not in question, madame, " he interruptedin his turn, and with a sudden sternness that spent the fire of herindignation as a spark that is trampled underfoot. Then, in a calm, level voice: "Ah, here are the servants, " said he. 

"Permit them, madame, to take charge of Monsieur de Saint-Eustache. Anatole, you had better order the carriage for Monsieur le Chevalier. Ido not think that he will be able to ride home. "

Anatole peered at the pale young gentleman on the ground, then he turnedhis little wizened face upon me, and grinned in a singularly solemnfashion. Monsieur de Saint-Eustache was little loved, it seemed. 

Leaning heavily upon the arm of one of the lacqueys, the Chevalier movedpainfully towards the courtyard, where the carriage was being preparedfor him. At the last moment he turned and beckoned the Vicomte to hisside. 

"As God lives, Monsieur de Lavedan, " he swore, breathing heavily inthe fury that beset him, "you shall bitterly regret having taken sidesto-day with that Gascon bully. Remember me, both of you, when you arejourneying to Toulouse. "

The Vicomte stood beside him, impassive and unmoved by that grim threat, for all that to him it must have sounded like a death-sentence. 

"Adieu, monsieur--a speedy recovery, " was all he answered. 

But I stepped up to them. "Do you not think, Vicomte, that it werebetter to detain him?" I asked. 

"Pshaw!" he ejaculated. "Let him go. "

The Chevalier's eyes met mine in a look of terror. Perhaps alreadythat young man repented him of his menace, and he realized the folly ofthreatening one in whose power he still chanced to be. 

"Bethink you, monsieur, " I cried. "Yours is a noble and useful life. Mine is not without value, either. Shall we suffer these lives--aye, and the happiness of your wife and daughter--to be destroyed by thisvermin?"

"Let him go, monsieur; let him go. I am not afraid. "

I bowed and stepped back, motioning to the lacquey to take the fellowaway, much as I should have motioned him to remove some uncleanness frombefore me. 

The Vicomtesse withdrew in high dudgeon to her chamber, and I did notsee her again that evening. Mademoiselle I saw once, for a moment, and she employed that moment to question me touching the origin of myquarrel with Saint-Eustache. 

"Did he really lie, Monsieur de Lesperon?" she asked. 

"Upon my honour, mademoiselle, " I answered solemnly, "I have plighted mytroth to no living woman. " Then my chin sank to my breast as I bethoughtme of how tomorrow she must opine me the vilest liar living--for I wasresolved to be gone before Marsac arrived--since the real Lesperon I didnot doubt was, indeed, betrothed to Mademoiselle de Marsac. 

"I shall leave Lavedan betimes to-morrow, mademoiselle, " I pursuedpresently. "What has happened to-day makes my departure all the moreurgent. Delay may have its dangers. You will hear strange things of me, as already I have warned you. But be merciful. Much will be true, muchfalse; yet the truth itself is very vile, and--" I stopped short, indespair of explaining or even tempering what had to come. I shrugged myshoulders in my abandonment of hope, and I turned towards the window. She crossed the room and came to stand beside me. 

"Will you not tell me? Have you no faith in me? Ah, Monsieur deLesperon--"

"'Sh! child, I cannot. It is too late to tell you now. "

"Oh, not too late! From what you say they will tell me, I should think, perhaps, worse of you than you deserve. What is this thing you hide?What is this mystery? Tell me, monsieur. Tell me. "

Did ever woman more plainly tell a man she loved him, and that lovinghim she would find all excuses for him? Was ever woman in better case tohear a confession from the man that loved her, and of whose love she wasassured by every instinct that her sex possesses in such matters?Those two questions leapt into my mind, and in resolving them I all butdetermined to speak even now in the eleventh hour. 

And then--I know not how--a fresh barrier seemed to arise. It was notmerely a matter of telling her of the wager I was embarked upon; notmerely a matter of telling her of the duplicity that I had practised, of the impostures by which I had gained admittance to her father'sconfidence and trust; not merely a matter of confessing that I was notLesperon. There would still be the necessity of saying who I was. Evenif she forgave all else, could she forgive me for being Bardelys thenotorious Bardelys, the libertine, the rake, some of whose exploits shehad heard of from her mother, painted a hundred times blacker than theyreally were? Might she not shrink from me when I told her I was thatman? In her pure innocence she deemed, no doubt, that the life of everyman who accounted himself a gentleman was moderately clean. She wouldnot see in me--as did her mother--no more than a type of the best classin France, and having no more than the vices of my order. As a monsterof profligacy might she behold me, and that--ah, Dieu!--I could notendure that she should do whilst I was by. 

It may be--indeed, now, as I look back, I know that I exaggerated mycase. I imagined she would see it as I saw it then. For would you creditit? With this great love that was now come to me, it seemed the idealsof my boyhood were returned, and I abhorred the man that I had been. Thelife I had led now filled me with disgust and loathing; the notionsI had formed seemed to me now all vicious and distorted, my cynicismshallow and unjust. 

"Monsieur de Lesperon, " she called softly to me, noting my silence. 

I turned to her. I set my hand lightly upon her arm; I let my gazeencounter the upward glance of her eyes--blue as forget-me-nots. 

"You suffer!" she murmured, with sweet compassion. 

"Worse, Roxalanne! I have sown in your heart too the seed of suffering. Oh, I am too unworthy!" I cried out; "and when you come to discover howunworthy it will hurt you; it will sting your pride to think how kindyou were to me. " She smiled incredulously, in denial of my words. "No, child; I cannot tell you. "

She sighed, and then before more could be said there was a sound at thedoor, and we started away from each other. The Vicomte entered, and mylast chance of confessing, of perhaps averting much of what followed, was lost to me. 

CHAPTER VIII. THE PORTRAIT

Into the mind of every thoughtful man must come at times with bitternessthe reflection of how utterly we are at the mercy of Fate, the victimsof her every whim and caprice. We may set out with the loftiest, thesternest resolutions to steer our lives along a well-considered course, yet the slightest of fortuitous circumstances will suffice to force usinto a direction that we had no thought of taking. 

Now, had it pleased Monsieur de Marsac to have come to Lavedan at anyreasonable hour of the day, I should have been already upon the roadto Paris, intent to own defeat and pay my wager. A night of thought, besides strengthening my determination to follow such a course, hadbrought the reflection that I might thereafter return to Roxalanne, apoor man, it is true, but one at least whose intentions might not bemisconstrued. 

And so, when at last I sank into sleep, my mind was happier than it hadbeen for many days. Of Roxalanne's love I was assured, and it seemedthat I might win her, after all, once I removed the barrier of shamethat now deterred me. It may be that those thoughts kept me awakeuntil a late hour, and that to this I owe it that when on the morrow Iawakened the morning was well advanced. The sun was flooding my chamber, and at my bedside stood Anatole. 

"What's o'clock?" I inquired, sitting bolt upright. 

"Past ten, " said he, with stern disapproval. 

"And you have let me sleep?" I cried. 

"We do little else at Lavedan even when we are awake, " he grumbled. "There was no reason why monsieur should rise. " Then, holding out apaper, "Monsieur Stanislas de Marsac was here betimes this morning withMademoiselle his sister. He left this letter for you, monsieur. "

Amaze and apprehension were quickly followed by relief, since Anatole'swords suggested that Marsac had not remained. I took the letter, nevertheless, with some misgivings, and whilst I turned it over in myhands I questioned the old servant. 

"He stayed an hour at the chateau, monsieur, " Anatole informed me. "Monsieur le Vicomte would have had you roused, but he would not hear ofit. 'If what Monsieur de Saint-Eustache has told me touching your guestshould prove to be true, ' said he, 'I would prefer not to meet him underyour roof, monsieur. ' 'Monsieur de Saint-Eustache, ' my master replied, 'is not a person whose word should have weight with any man of honour. 'But in spite of that, Monsieur de Marsac held to his resolve, andalthough he would offer no explanation in answer to my master's manyquestions, you were not aroused. 

"At the end of a half-hour his sister entered with Mademoiselle. Theyhad been walking together on the terrace, and Mademoiselle de Marsacappeared very angry. 'Affairs are exactly as Monsieur de Saint-Eustachehas represented them, ' said she to her brother. At that he swore a mostvillainous oath, and called for writing materials. At the moment of hisdeparture he desired me to deliver this letter to you, and then rodeaway in a fury, and, seemingly, not on the best of terms with Monsieurle Vicomte. "

"And his sister?" I asked quickly. 

"She went with him. A fine pair, as I live!" he added, casting his eyesto the ceiling. 

At least I could breathe freely. They were gone, and whatever damagethey may have done to the character of poor Rene de Lesperon ere theydeparted, they were not there, at all events, to denounce me for animpostor. With a mental apology to the shade of the departed Lesperonfor all the discredit I was bringing down upon his name, I brokethe seal of that momentous epistle, which enclosed a length of somethirty-two inches of string. 

Monsieur [I read], wherever I may chance to meet you it shall be my dutyto kill you. 

A rich beginning, in all faith! If he could but maintain thatuncompromising dramatic flavour to the end, his epistle should be worththe trouble of deciphering, for he penned a vile scrawl of pothooks. 

It is because of this [the letter proceeded] that I have refrained fromcoming face to face with you this morning. The times are too troublousand the province is in too dangerous a condition to admit of an actthat might draw the eyes of the Keeper of the Seals upon Lavedan. Tomy respect, then, to Monsieur le Vicomte and to my own devotion to theCause we mutually serve do you owe it that you still live. I am on myway to Spain to seek shelter there from the King's vengeance. 

To save myself is a duty that I owe as much to myself as to the Cause. But there is another duty, one that I owe my sister, whom you have sooutrageously slighted, and this duty, by God's grace, I will performbefore I leave. Of your honour, monsieur, we will not speak, for reasonsinto which I need not enter, and I make no appeal to it. But if you havea spark of manhood left, if you are not an utter craven as well as aknave, I shall expect you on the day after tomorrow, at any hour beforenoon, at the Auberge de la Couronne at Grenade. There, monsieur, if youplease, we will adjust our differences. That you may come prepared, andso that no time need be wasted when we meet, I send you the length of mysword. 

Thus ended that angry, fire-breathing epistle. I refolded itthoughtfully, then, having taken my resolve, I leapt from the bed anddesired Anatole to assist me to dress. 

I found the Vicomte much exercised in mind as to the meaning of Marsac'sextraordinary behaviour, and I was relieved to see that he, at least, could conjecture no cause for it. In reply to the questions with whichhe very naturally assailed me, I assured him that it was no more thana matter of a misunderstanding; that Monsieur de Marsac had asked me tomeet him at Grenade in two days' time, and that I should then, no doubt, be able to make all clear. 

Meanwhile, I regretted the incident, since it necessitated my remainingand encroaching for two days longer upon the Vicomte's hospitality. Toall this, however, he made the reply that I expected, concludingwith the remark that for the present at least it would seem as ifthe Chevalier de Saint-Eustache had been satisfied with creating thistrouble betwixt myself and Marsac. 

From what Anatole had said, I had already concluded that Marsac hadexercised the greatest reticence. But the interview between his sisterand Roxalanne filled me with the gravest anxiety. Women are not wont topractise the restraint of men under such circumstances, and for all thatMademoiselle de Marsac may not have expressed it in so many words that Iwas her faithless lover, yet women are quick to detect and interpret thesigns of disorders springing from such causes, and I had every fear thatRoxalanne was come to the conclusion that I had lied to her yesternight. With an uneasy spirit, then, I went in quest of her, and I found herwalking in the old rose garden behind the chateau. 

She did not at first remark my approach, and I had leisure for somemoments to observe her and to note the sadness that dwelt in her profileand the listlessness of her movements. This, then, was my work--mine, and that of Monsieur de Chatellerault, and those other merry gentlemenwho had sat at my table in Paris nigh upon a month ago. 

I moved, and the gravel crunched under my foot, whereupon she turned, and, at sight of me advancing towards her, she started. The bloodmounted to her face, to ebb again upon the instant, leaving it palerthan it had been. She made as if to depart; then she appeared to checkherself, and stood immovable and outwardly calm, awaiting my approach. 

But her eyes were averted, and her bosom rose and fell too swiftly tolend colour to that mask of indifference she hurriedly put on. Yet, asI drew nigh, she was the first to speak, and the triviality of her wordscame as a shock to me, and for all my knowledge of woman's way caused meto doubt for a moment whether perhaps her calm were not real, after all. 

"You are a laggard this morning, Monsieur de Lesperon. " And, with a halflaugh, she turned aside to break a rose from its stem. 

"True, " I answered stupidly; "I slept over-late. "

"A thousand pities, since thus you missed seeing Mademoiselle de Marsac. Have they told you that she was here?"

"Yes, mademoiselle. Stanislas de Marsac left a letter for me. "

"You will regret not having seen them, no doubt?" quoth she. 

I evaded the interrogative note in her voice. "That is their fault. Theyappear to have preferred to avoid me. "

"Is it matter for wonder?" she flashed, with a sudden gleam of furywhich she as suddenly controlled. With the old indifference, she added, "You do not seem perturbed, monsieur?"

"On the contrary, mademoiselle; I am very deeply perturbed. "

"At not having seen your betrothed?" she asked, and now for the firsttime her eyes were raised, and they met mine with a look that was astab. 

"Mademoiselle, I had the honour of telling you yesterday that I hadplighted my troth to no living woman. "

At that reminder of yesterday she winced, and I was sorry that I haduttered it, for it must have set the wound in her pride a-bleedingagain. Yesterday I had as much as told her that I loved her, andyesterday she had as much as answered me that she loved me, foryesterday I had sworn that Saint-Eustache's story of my betrothal wasa lie. To-day she had had assurance of the truth from the very woman towhom Lesperon's faith was plighted, and I could imagine something of hershame. 

"Yesterday, monsieur, " she answered contemptuously, "you lied in manythings. "

"Nay, I spoke the truth in all. Oh, God in heaven, mademoiselle, " Iexclaimed in sudden passion, "will you not believe me? Will you notaccept my word for what I say, and have a little patience until I shallhave discharged such obligations as will permit me to explain?"

"Explain?" quoth she, with withering disdain. 

"There is a hideous misunderstanding in all this. I am the victim of amiserable chain of circumstances. Oh, I can say no more! These MarsacsI shall easily pacify. I am to meet Monsieur de Marsac at Grenade onthe day after to-morrow. In my pocket I have a letter from this livingsword-blade, in which he tells me that he will give himself the pleasureof killing me then. Yet--"

"I hope he does, monsieur!" she cut in, with a fierceness before whichI fell dumb and left my sentence unfinished. "I shall pray God that hemay!" she added. "You deserve it as no man deserved it yet!"

For a moment I stood stricken, indeed, by her words. Then, my reasongrasping the motive of that fierceness, a sudden joy pervaded me. It wasa fierceness breathing that hatred that is a part of love, than which, it is true, no hatred can be more deadly. And yet so eloquently did ittell me of those very feelings which she sought jealously to conceal, that, moved by a sudden impulse, I stepped close up to her. 

"Roxalanne, " I said fervently, "you do not hope for it. What would yourlife be if I were dead? Child, child, you love me even as I love you. "I caught her suddenly to me with infinite tenderness, with reverencealmost. "Can you lend no ear to the voice of this love? Can you not havefaith in me a little? Can you not think that if I were quite as unworthyas you make-believe to your very self, this love could have no place?"

"It has no place!" she cried. "You lie--as in all things else. I do notlove you. I hate you. Dieu! How I hate you!"

She had lain in my arms until then, with upturned face and piteous, frightened eyes--like a bird that feels itself within the toils of asnake, yet whose horror is blent with a certain fascination. Now, as shespoke, her will seemed to reassert itself, and she struggled to breakfrom me. But as her fierceness of hatred grew, so did my fierceness ofresolve gain strength, and I held her tightly. 

"Why do you hate me?" I asked steadily. "Ask yourself, Roxalanne, andtell me what answer your heart makes. Does it not answer that indeed youdo not hate me--that you love me?"

"Oh, God, to be so insulted!" she cried out. "Will you not release me, miserable? Must I call for help? Oh, you shall suffer for this! As thereis a Heaven, you shall be punished!"

But in my passion I held her, despite entreaties, threats, andstruggles. I was brutal, if you will. Yet think of what was in my soulat being so misjudged, at finding myself in this position, and dealnot over harshly with me. The courage to confess which I had lacked fordays, came to me then. I must tell her. Let the result be what it might, it could not be worse than this, and this I could endure no longer. 

"Listen, Roxalanne!"

"I will not listen! Enough of insults have I heard already. Let me go!"

"Nay, but you shall hear me. I am not Rene de Lesperon. Had theseMarsacs been less impetuous and foolish, had they waited to have seen methis morning, they would have told you so. "

She paused for a second in her struggles to regard me. Then, with asudden contemptuous laugh, she renewed her efforts more vigorously thanbefore. 

"What fresh lies do you offer me? Release me, I will hear no more!"

"As Heaven is my witness, I have told you the truth. I know how wilda sound it has, and that is partly why I did not tell you earlier. But your disdain I cannot suffer. That you should deem me a liar inprofessing to love you--"

Her struggles were grown so frantic that I was forced to relax my grip. But this I did with a suddenness that threw her out of balance, and shewas in danger of falling backwards. To save herself, she caught at mydoublet, which was torn open under the strain. 

We stood some few feet apart, and, white and palpitating in her anger, she confronted me. Her eyes lashed me with their scorn, but under mysteady, unflinching gaze they fell at last. When next she raised themthere was a smile of quiet but unutterable contempt upon her lips. 

"Will you swear, " said she, "that you are not Rene de Lesperon? ThatMademoiselle de Marsac is not your betrothed?"

"Yes--by my every hope of Heaven!" I cried passionately. 

She continued to survey me with that quiet smile of mocking scorn. 

"I have heard it said, " quoth she, "that the greatest liars are everthose that are readiest to take oath. " Then, with a sudden gasp ofloathing, "I think you have dropped something, monsieur, " said she, pointing to the ground. And without waiting for more, she swung roundand left me. 

Face upwards at my feet lay the miniature that poor Lesperon hadentrusted to me in his dying moments. It had dropped from my doublet inthe struggle, and I never doubted now but that the picture it containedwas that of Mademoiselle de Marsac. 

CHAPTER IX. A NIGHT ALARM

I was returning that same afternoon from a long walk that I hadtaken--for my mood was of that unenviable sort that impels a man to bemoving--when I found a travelling-chaise drawn up in the quadrangle asif ready for a journey. As I mounted the steps of the chateau I cameface to face with mademoiselle, descending. I drew aside that she mightpass; and this she did with her chin in the air, and her petticoat drawnto her that it might not touch me. 

I would have spoken to her, but her eyes looked straight before her witha glance that was too forbidding; besides which there was the gaze of ahalf-dozen grooms upon us. So, bowing before her--the plume of my doffedhat sweeping the ground--I let her go. Yet I remained standing whereshe had passed me, and watched her enter the coach. I looked after thevehicle as it wheeled round and rattled out over the drawbridge, toraise a cloud of dust on the white, dry road beyond. 

In that hour I experienced a sense of desolation and a pain to which Ifind it difficult to give expression. It seemed to me as if she had goneout of my life for all time--as if no reparation that I could ever makewould suffice to win her back after what had passed between us thatmorning. Already wounded in her pride by what Mademoiselle de Marsac hadtold her of our relations, my behaviour in the rose garden had completedthe work of turning into hatred the tender feelings that but yesterdayshe had all but confessed for me. That she hated me now, I was wellassured. My reflections as I walked had borne it in upon me how rash, how mad had been my desperate action, and with bitterness I realizedthat I had destroyed the last chance of ever mending matters. 

Not even the payment of my wager and my return in my true charactercould avail me now. The payment of my wager, forsooth! Even that lostwhat virtue it might have contained. Where was the heroism of such anact? Had I not failed, indeed? And was not, therefore, the payment of mywager become inevitable?

Fool! fool! Why had I not profited that gentle mood of hers when we haddrifted down the stream together? Why had I not told her then of thewhole business from its ugly inception down to the pass to which thingswere come, adding that to repair the evil I was going back to Paris topay my wager, and that when that was done, I would return to ask her tobecome my wife? That was the course a man of sense would have adopted. He would have seen the dangers that beset him in my false position, and would have been quick to have forestalled them in the only mannerpossible. 

Heigh-ho! It was done. The game was at an end, and I had bungled my partof it like any fool. One task remained me--that of meeting Marsac atGrenade and doing justice to the memory of poor Lesperon. What mightbetide thereafter mattered little. I should be ruined when I had settledwith Chatellerault, and Marcel de Saint-Pol, de Bardelys, that brilliantstar in the firmament of the Court of France, would suffer an abrupteclipse, would be quenched for all time. But this weighed little withme then. I had lost everything that I might have valued--everything thatmight have brought fresh zest to a jaded, satiated life. 

Later that day I was told by the Vicomte that there was a rumour currentto the effect that the Marquis de Bardelys was dead. Idly I inquired howthe rumour had been spread, and he told me that a riderless horse, whichhad been captured a few days ago by some peasants, had been recognizedby Monsieur de Bardelys's servants as belonging to their master, andthat as nothing had been seen or heard of him for a fortnight, it wasbelieved that he must have met with some mischance. Not even that pieceof information served to arouse my interest. Let them believe me deadif they would. To him that is suffering worse than death to be accounteddead is a small matter. 

The next day passed without incident. Mademoiselle's absence continuedand I would have questioned the Vicomte concerning it, but a notunnatural hesitancy beset me, and I refrained. 

On the morrow I was to leave Lavedan, but there were no preparations tobe made, no packing to be done, for during my sojourn there I had beenindebted to the generous hospitality of the Vicomte for my very apparel. We supped quietly together that night the Vicomte and I--for theVicomtesse was keeping her room. 

I withdrew early to my chamber, and long I lay awake, revolving a gloomyfuture in my mind. I had given no thought to what I should do afterhaving offered my explanation to Monsieur de Marsac on the morrow, norcould I now bring myself to consider it with any degree of interest. Iwould communicate with Chatellerault to inform him that I accountedmy wager lost. I would send him my note of hand, making over to himmy Picardy estates, and I would request him to pay off and disband myservants both in Paris and at Bardelys. 

As for myself, I did not know, and, as I have hinted, I cared butlittle, in what places my future life might lie. I had still a littleproperty by Beaugency, but scant inclination to withdraw to it. To ParisI would not return; that much I was determined upon; but upon no more. I had thoughts of going to Spain. Yet that course seemed no less futilethan any other of which I could bethink me. I fell asleep at last, vowing that it would be a mercy and a fine solution to the puzzle of howto dispose of the future if I were to awaken no more. 

I was, however, destined to be roused again just as the veil of nightwas being lifted and the chill breath of dawn was upon the world. Therewas a loud knocking at the gates of Lavedan, confused noises of voices, of pattering feet, of doors opening and closing within the chateau. 

There was a rapping at my chamber door, and when I went to open, I foundthe Vicomte on the threshold, nightcapped, in his shirt, and bearing alighted taper. 

"There are troopers at the gate!" he exclaimed as he entered the room. "That dog Saint-Eustache has already been at work!"

For all the agitation that must have been besetting him, his manner wasserene as ever. "What are we to do?" he asked. 

"You are admitting them--naturally?" said I, inquiry in my voice. 

"Why, yes"; and he shrugged his shoulders. "What could it avail us toresist them? Even had I been prepared for it, it would be futile toattempt to suffer a siege. "

I wrapped a dressing-gown about me, for the morning air was chill. 

"Monsieur le Vicomte, " said I gravely, "I heartily deplore that Monsieurde Marsac's affairs should have detained me here. But for him, I hadleft Lavedan two days ago. As it is, I tremble for you, but we mayat least hope that my being taken in your house will draw down no illresults upon you. I shall never forgive myself if through my havingtaken refuge here I should have encompassed your destruction. "

"There is no question of that, " he replied, with the quick generositycharacteristic of the man. "This is the work of Saint-Eustache. Sooneror later I always feared that it would happen, for sooner or later heand I must have come to enmity over my daughter. That knave had me inhis power. He knew--being himself outwardly one of us--to what extentI was involved in the late rebellion, and I knew enough of him to beassured that if some day he should wish to do me ill, he would neverscruple to turn traitor. I am afraid, Monsieur de Lesperon, that it isnot for you alone--perhaps not for you at all--that the soldiers havecome, but for me. "

Then, before I could answer him, the door was flung wide, and into theroom, in nightcap and hastily donned robe--looking a very meagre in thatdisfiguring deshabille--swept the Vicomtesse. 

"See, " she cried to her husband, her strident voice raised inreproach--"see to what a pass you have brought us!"

"Anne, Anne!" he exclaimed, approaching her and seeking to soothe her;"be calm, my poor child, and be brave. "

But, evading him, she towered, lean and malevolent as a fury. 

"Calm?" she echoed contemptuously. "Brave?" Then a short laugh brokefrom her--a despairing, mocking, mirthless expression of anger. "By God, do you add effrontery to your other failings? Dare you bid me be calmand brave in such an hour? Have I been warning you fruitlessly thesetwelve months past, that, after disregarding me and deriding mywarnings, you should bid me be calm now that my fears are realized?"

There was a sound of creaking gates below. The Vicomte heard it. 

"Madame, " he said, putting aside his erstwhile tender manner, andspeaking with a lofty dignity, "the troopers have been admitted. Let meentreat you to retire. It is not befitting our station--"

"What is our station?" she interrupted harshly. "Rebels--proscribed, houseless beggars. That is our station, thanks to you and your insanemeddling with treason. What is to become of us, fool? What is to becomeof Roxalanne and me when they shall have hanged you and have driven usfrom Lavedan? By God's death, a fine season this to talk of the dignityof our station! Did I not warn you, malheureux, to leave party factionalone? You laughed at me. "

"Madame, your memory does me an injustice, " he answered in a strangledvoice. "I never laughed at you in all my life. "

"You did as much, at least. Did you not bid me busy myself with women'saffairs? Did you not bid me leave you to follow your own judgment? Youhave followed it--to a pretty purpose, as God lives! These gentlemen ofthe King's will cause you to follow it a little farther, " she pursued, with heartless, loathsome sarcasm. "You will follow it as far as thescaffold at Toulouse. That, you will tell me, is your own affair. Butwhat provision have you made for your wife and daughter? Did you marryme and get her to leave us to perish of starvation? Or are we to turnkitchen wenches or sempstresses for our livelihood?"

With a groan, the Vicomte sank down upon the bed, and covered his facewith his hands. 

"God pity me!" he cried, in a voice of agony--an agony such as the fearof death could never have infused into his brave soul; an agony born ofthe heartlessness of this woman who for twenty years had shared hisbed and board, and who now in the hour of his adversity failed him socruelly--so tragically. 

"Aye, " she mocked in her bitterness, "call upon God to pity you, for Ishall not. "

She paced the room now, like a caged lioness, her face livid with thefury that possessed her. She no longer asked questions; she nolonger addressed him; oath followed oath from her thin lips, and thehideousness of this woman's blasphemy made me shudder. At last therewere heavy steps upon the stairs, and, moved by a sudden impulse"Madame, " I cried, "let me prevail upon you to restrain yourself. "

She swung round to face me, her dose-set eyes ablaze with anger. 

"Sangdieu! By what right do you--" she began but this was no time tolet a woman's tongue go babbling on; no time for ceremony; no season formaking a leg and addressing her with a simper. I caught her viciously bythe wrist, and with my face close up to hers "Folle!" I cried, and I'llswear no man had ever used the word to her before. She gasped and chokedin her surprise and rage. Then lowering my voice lest it should reachthe approaching soldiers: "Would you ruin the Vicomte and yourself?" Imuttered. Her eyes asked me a question, and I answered it. "How do youknow that the soldiers have come for your husband? It may be that theyare seeking me--and only me. They may know nothing of the Vicomte'sdefection. Shall you, then, be the one to inform them of it by yourunbridled rantings and your accusations?"

Her jaw fell open in astonishment. This was a side of the question shehad not considered. 

"Let me prevail upon you, madame, to withdraw and to be of good courage. It is more than likely that you alarm yourself without cause. "

She continued to stare at me in her amazement and the confusion that wascongenital with it, and if there was not time for her to withdraw, atleast the possibility I had suggested acted as a timely warning. 

In that moment the door opened again, and on the threshold appeared ayoung man in a plumed hat and corselet, carrying a naked sword in onehand and a lanthorn in the other. Behind him I caught the gleam of steelfrom the troopers at his heels. 

"Which of you is Monsieur Rene de Lesperon?" he inquired politely, hisutterance flavoured by a strong Gascon accent. 

I stood forward. "I am known by that name, Monsieur le Capitaine, " saidI. 

He looked at me wistfully, apologetically almost, then "In the King'sname, Monsieur de Lesperon, I call upon you to yield!" said he. 

"I have been expecting you. My sword is yonder, monsieur, " I repliedsuavely. "If you will allow me to dress, I shall be ready to accompanyyou in a few minutes. "

He bowed, and it at once became clear that his business at Lavedanwas--as I had suggested to the Vicomtesse might be possible--with mealone. 

"I am grateful for the readiness of your submission, " said thisvery polite gentleman. He was a comely lad, with blue eyes and agood-humoured mouth, to which a pair of bristling moustaches soughtvainly to impart an expression of ferocity. 

"Before you proceed to dress, monsieur, I have another duty todischarge. "

"Discharge your duty, monsieur, " I answered. Whereupon he made a sign tohis men, and in a moment they were ransacking my garments and effects. While this was taking place, he turned to the Vicomte and Vicomtesse, and offered them a thousand apologies for having interrupted theirslumbers, and for so rudely depriving them of their guest. He advancedin his excuse the troublous nature of the times, and threw in a bunchof malisons at the circumstances which forced upon soldiers the odiousduties of the tipstaff, hoping that we would think him none the less agentleman for the unsavoury business upon which he was engaged. 

From my clothes they took the letters addressed to Lesperon which thatpoor gentleman had entrusted to me on the night of his death; and amongthese there was one from the Duc d'Orleans himself, which would alonehave sufficed to have hanged a regiment. Besides these, they tookMonsieur de Marsac's letter of two days ago, and the locket containingthe picture of Mademoiselle de Marsac. 

The papers and the portrait they delivered to the Captain, who took themwith the same air of deprecation tainted with disgust that coloured allhis actions in connection with my arrest. 

To this same repugnance for his catchpoll work do I owe it that at themoment of setting out he offered to let me ride without the annoyance ofan escort if I would pass him my parole not to attempt an escape. 

We were standing, then, in the hall of the chateau. His men were alreadyin the courtyard, and there were only present Monsieur le Vicomte andAnatole--the latter reflecting the look of sorrow that haunted hismaster's face. The Captain's generosity was certainly leading him beyondthe bounds of his authority, and it touched me. 

"Monsieur is very generous, " said I. 

He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 

"Cap de Dieu!" he cried--he had a way of swearing that reminded me of myfriend Cazalet. "It is no generosity, monsieur. It is a desire to makethis obscene work more congenial to the spirit of a gentleman, which, devil take me, I cannot stifle, not for the King himself. And then, Monsieur de Lesperon, are we not fellow-countrymen? Are we not Gasconsboth? Pardieu, there is no more respected a name in the whole of Gasconythan that of Lesperon, and that you belong to so honourable a family isalone more than sufficient to warrant such slight favours as it may bein my power to show you. "

"You have my parole that I will attempt no escape, Monsieur leCapitaine, " I answered, bowing may acknowledgment of his compliments. 

"I am Mironsac de Castelroux, of Chateau Rouge in Gascony, " he informedme, returning my bow. My faith, had he not made a pretty soldier hewould have made an admirable master of deportment. 

My leave-taking of Monsieur de Lavedan was brief but cordial; apologeticon my part, intensely sympathetic on his. And so I went out alone withCastelroux upon the road to Toulouse, his men being ordered to follow inhalf an hour's time and to travel at their leisure. 

As we cantered along--Castelroux and I--we talked of many things, andI found him an amusing and agreeable companion. Had my mood been otherthan despairing, the news he gave me might have occasioned me someconcern; for it seemed that prisoners arraigned for treason andparticipation in the late rising were being very summarily treated. Manywere never so much as heard in their own defence, the evidence collectedof their defection being submitted to the Tribunal, and judgment beingforthwith passed upon them by judges who had no ears for anything theymight advance in their own favour. 

The evidence of my identity was complete: there was my own admission toCastelroux; the evidence of the treason of Lesperon was none the lesscomplete; in fact, it was notorious; and there was the Duke's letterfound amongst my effects. If the judges refused to lend an ear to myassurances that I was not Lesperon at all, but the missing Bardelys, mytroubles were likely to receive a very summary solution. The fear of it, however, weighed not over-heavily upon me. I was supremely indifferent. Life was at an end so far as I was concerned. I had ruined the onechance of real happiness that had ever been held out to me, and if thegentlemen of the courts of Toulouse were pleased to send me unheeded tothe scaffold, what should it signify?

But there was another matter that did interest me, and that was myinterview with Marsac. Touching this, I spoke to my captor. 

"There is a gentleman I wish to see at Grenade this morning. You haveamongst the papers taken from me a letter making this assignation, Monsieur le Capitaine, and I should be indeed grateful if you woulddetermine that we shall break our fast there, so that I may havean opportunity of seeing him. The matter is to me of the highestimportance. "

"It concerns--?" he asked. 

"A lady, " I answered. 

"Ah, yes! But the letter is of the nature of a challenge, is it not?Naturally, I cannot permit you to endanger your life. "

"Lest we disappoint the headsman at Toulouse?" I laughed. "Have no fear. There shall be no duel!"

"Then I am content, monsieur, and you shall see your friend. "

I thanked him, and we talked of other things thereafter as we rode inthe early morning along the Toulouse road. Our conversation found itsway, I scarce know how, to the topic of Paris and the Court, and whenI casually mentioned, in passing, that I was well acquainted with theLuxembourg, he inquired whether I had ever chanced to meet a young sparkof the name of Mironsac. 

"Mironsac?" I echoed. "Why, yes. " And I was on the point of adding thatI knew the youth intimately, and what a kindness I had for him, when, deeming it imprudent, I contented myself with asking, "You know him?"

"Pardieu!" he swore. "The fellow is my cousin. We are both Mironsacs; heis Mironsac of Castelvert, whilst I, as you may remember I told you, am Mironsac of Castelroux. To distinguish us, he is always known asMironsac, and I as Castelroux. Peste! It is not the only distinction, for while he basks in the sunshine of the great world of Paris--theyare wealthy, the Mironsacs of Castelvert--I, a poor devil of a Gasconycadet, am playing the catchpoll in Languedoc!"

I looked at him with fresh interest, for the mention of that dearlad Mironsac brought back to my mind the night in Paris on whichmy ill-starred wager had been laid, and I was reminded of how thathigh-minded youth had sought--when it was too late to reason me out ofthe undertaking by alluding to the dishonour with which in his honesteyes it must be fraught. 

We spoke of his cousin--Castelroux and I--and I went so far now asto confess that I had some love for the youth, whom I praised inunmistakable terms. This inclined to increase the friendliness whichmy young Captain had manifested since my arrest, and I was presentlyemboldened by it to beg of him to add to the many favours that I alreadyowed him by returning to me the portrait which his men had subtractedfrom my pocket. It was my wish to return this to Marsac, whilst at thesame time it would afford corroboration of my story. 

To this Castelroux made no difficulty. 

"Why, yes, " said he, and he produced it. "I crave your pardon for nothaving done the thing of my own accord. What can the Keeper of the Sealswant with that picture?"

I thanked him, and pocketed the locket. 

"Poor lady!" he sighed, a note of compassion in his voice. "By my soul, Monsieur de Lesperon, fine work this for soldiers, is it not? Diable! Itis enough to turn a gentleman's stomach sour for life, and make him gohide himself from the eyes of honest men. Had I known that soldieringmeant such business, I had thought twice before I adopted it as a careerfor a man of honour. I had remained in Gascony and tilled the earthsooner than have lent myself to this!"

"My good young friend, " I laughed, "what you do, you do in the King'sname. "

"So does every tipstaff, " he answered impatiently, his moustachesbristling as the result of the scornful twist he gave his lips. "Tothink that I should have a hand in bringing tears to the eyes of thatsweet lady! Quelle besogne! Bon Dieu, quelle besogne!"

I laughed at the distress vented in that whimsical Gascon tongue of his, whereupon he eyed me in a wonder that was tempered with admiration. Forto his brave soul a gentleman so stoical as to laugh under such parlouscircumstances was very properly a gentleman to be admired. 

CHAPTER X. THE RISEN DEAD

It was close upon ten o'clock as we rode into the yard of the imposingHotel de la Couronne at Grenade. 

Castelroux engaged a private room on the first floor--a handsome chamberoverlooking the courtyard--and in answer to the inquiries that I madeI was informed by the landlord that Monsieur de Marsac was not yetarrived. 

"My assignation was 'before noon, ' Monsieur de Castelroux, " said I. "With your permission, I would wait until noon. "

He made no difficulty. Two hours were of no account. We had all risenvery early, and he was, himself, he said, entitled to some rest. 

Whilst I stood by the window it came to pass than a very tall, indifferently apparelled gentleman issued from the hostelry and haltedfor some moments in conversation with the ostler below. He walked withan enfeebled step, and leaned heavily for support upon a stout cane. Ashe turned to reenter the inn I had a glimpse of a face woefully pale, about which, as about the man's whole figure, there was a somethingthat was familiar--a something that puzzled me, and on which my mind wasstill dwelling when presently I sat down to breakfast with Castelroux. 

It may have been a half-hour later, and, our meal being at an end, wewere sitting talking--I growing impatient the while that this Monsieurde Marsac should keep me waiting so--when of a sudden the rattleof hoofs drew me once more to the window. A gentleman, riding veryrecklessly, had just dashed through the porte-cochere, and was in theact of pulling up his horse. He was a lean, active man, very richlydressed, and with a face that by its swarthiness of skin and the sablehue of beard and hair looked almost black. 

"Ah, you are there!" he cried, with something between a snarl and alaugh, and addressing somebody within the shelter of the porch. "Par lamort Dieu, I had hardly looked to find you!"

From the recess of the doorway I heard a gasp of amazement and a cry of"Marsac! You here?"

So this was the gentleman I was to see! A stable boy had taken hisreins, and he leapt nimbly to the ground. Into my range of visionhobbled now the enfeebled gentleman whom earlier I had noticed. 

"My dear Stanislas!" he cried, "I cannot tell you how rejoiced I am tosee you!" and he approached Marsac with arms that were opened as if toembrace him. 

The newcomer surveyed him a moment in wonder, with eyes grown dull. Then abruptly raising his hand, he struck the fellow on the breast, andthrust him back so violently that but for the stable-boy's interventionhe had of a certainty fallen. With a look of startled amazement on hishaggard face, the invalid regarded his assailant. 

As for Marsac, he stepped close up to him. 

"What is this?" he cried harshly. "What is this make-believe feebleness?That you are pale, poltroon, I do not wonder! But why these totteringlimbs? Why this assumption of weakness? Do you look to trick me by thesesigns?"

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" exclaimed the other, a note ofresponsive anger sounding in his voice. "Have you gone mad, Stanislas?"

"Abandon this pretence, " was the contemptuous answer. "Two days ago atLavedan, my friend, they informed me how complete was your recovery;from what they told us, it was easy to guess why you tarried thereand left us without news of you. That was my reason, as you may havesurmised, for writing to you. My sister has mourned you for dead--wasmourning you for dead whilst you sat at the feet of your Roxalanne andmade love to her among the roses of Lavedan. "

"Lavedan?" echoed the other slowly. Then, raising his voice, "what thedevil are you saying?" he blazed. "What do I know of Lavedan?"

In a flash it had come to me who that enfeebled gentleman was. Rodenard, the blunderer, had been at fault when he had said that Lesperon hadexpired. Clearly he could have no more than swooned; for here, in theflesh, was Lesperon himself, the man I had left for dead in that barn byMirepoix. 

How or where he had recovered were things that at the moment did notexercise my mind--nor have I since been at any pains to unravel themystery of it; but there he was, and for the moment that fact wasall-sufficing. What complications would come of his presence Heavenalone could foretell. 

"Put an end to this play-acting!" roared the savage Marsac. "It willavail you nothing. My sister's tears may have weighed lightly with you, but you shall pay the price of them, and of the slight you have put uponher. "

"My God, Marsac!" cried the other, roused to an equal fierceness. "Willyou explain?"

"Aye, " snarled Marsac, and his sword flashed from his scabbard, "I'llexplain. As God lives, I'll explain--with this!" And he whirled hisblade under the eyes of the invalid. "Come, my master, the comedy'splayed out. Cast aside that crutch and draw; draw, man, or, sangdieu, I'll run you through as you stand!"

There was a commotion below. The landlord and a posse of hissatellites--waiters, ostlers, and stableboys--rushed between them, andsought to restrain the bloodthirsty Marsac. But he shook them off asa bull shakes off a pack of dogs, and like an angry bull, too, did hestand his ground and bellow. In a moment his sweeping sword had cleareda circle about him. In its lightning dartings hither and thither atrandom, it had stung a waiter in the calf, and when the fellow saw theblood staining his hose, he added to the general din his shrieks thathe was murdered. Marsac swore and threatened in a breath, and a kitchenwench, from a point of vantage on the steps, called shame upon him andabused him roundly for a cowardly assassin to assail a poor sufferer whocould hardly stand upright. 

"Po' Cap de Dieu!" swore Castelroux at my elbow. "Saw you ever such anado? What has chanced?"

But I never stayed to answer him. Unless I acted quickly blood wouldassuredly be shed. I was the one man who could explain matters, and itwas a mercy for Lesperon that I should have been at hand in the hour ofhis meeting that fire-eater Marsac. I forgot the circumstances in whichI stood to Castelroux; I forgot everything but the imminent necessitythat I should intervene. Some seven feet below our window was the roofof the porch; from that to the ground it might be some eight feet more. Before my Gascon captain knew what I was about, I had swung myself downfrom the window on to the projecting porch. A second later, I createda diversion by landing in the midst of the courtyard fray, with thealarmed Castelroux--who imagined that I was escaping--following by thesame unusual road, and shouting as he came "Monsieur de Lesperon!Hi! Monsieur de Lesperon! Mordieu! Remember your parole, Monsieur deLesperon!"

Nothing could have been better calculated to stem Marsac's fury; nothingcould have so predisposed him to lend an ear to what I had to say, forit was very evident that Castelroux's words were addressed to me, andthat it was I whom he called by the name of Lesperon. In an instant Iwas at Marsac's side. But before I could utter a word, "What the devildoes this mean?" he asked, eyeing me with fierce suspicion. 

"It means, monsieur, that there are more Lesperons than one in France. Iam the Lesperon who was at Lavedan. If you doubt me, ask this gentleman, who arrested me there last night. Ask him, too, why we have halted here. Ask him, if you will, to show you the letter that you left at Lavedanmaking an assignation here before noon to-day, which letter I received. "

The suspicion faded from Marsac's eyes, and they grew round with wonderas he listened to this prodigious array of evidence. Lesperon looked onin no less amazement, yet I am sure from the manner of his glance thathe did not recognize in me the man that had succoured him at Mirepoix. That, after all, was natural enough; for the minds of men in suchreduced conditions as had been his upon that night are not prone toreceive very clear impressions, and still less prone to retain suchimpressions as they do receive. 

Before Marsac could answer me, Castelroux was at my side. 

"A thousand apologies!" he laughed. "A fool might have guessed theerrand that took you so quickly through that window, and none but a foolwould have suspected you of seeking to escape. It was unworthy in me, Monsieur de Lesperon. "

I turned to him while those others still stood gaping, and led himaside. 

"Monsieur le Capitaine, " said I, "you find it troublesome enough toreconcile your conscience with such arrests as you are charged to make, is it not so. 

"Mordieu!" he cried, by way of emphatically assenting. 

"Now, if you should chance to overhear words betraying to you certainpeople whom otherwise you would never suspect of being rebels, yoursoldier's duty would, nevertheless, compel you to apprehend them, wouldit not?"

"Why, true. I am afraid it would, " he answered, with a grimace. 

"But, if forewarned that by being present in a certain place you shouldoverhear such words, what course would you pursue?"

"Avoid it like a pestilence, monsieur, " he answered promptly. 

"Then, Monsieur le Capitaine, may I trespass upon your generosity tobeseech you to let me take these litigants to our room upstairs, and toleave us alone there for a half-hour?"

Frankness was my best friend in dealing with Castelroux--frankness andhis distaste for the business they had charged him with. As for Marsacand Lesperon, they were both eager enough to have the mystery explained, and when Castelroux having consented--I invited them to my chamber, theycame readily enough. 

Since Monsieur de Lesperon did not recognize me, there was no reasonwhy I should enlighten him touching my identity, and every reason whyI should not. As soon as they were seated, I went to the heart of thematter at once and without preamble. 

"A fortnight ago, gentlemen, " said I, "I was driven by a pack ofdragoons across the Garonne. I was wounded in the shoulder and veryexhausted, and I knocked at the gates of Lavedan to crave shelter. Thatshelter, gentlemen, was afforded me, and when I had announced myself asMonsieur de Lesperon, it was all the more cordially because one Monsieurde Marsac, who was a friend of the Vicomte de Lavedan, and a partisanin the lost cause of Orleans, happened often to have spoken of acertain Monsieur de Lesperon as his very dear friend. I have no doubt, gentlemen, that you will think harshly of me because I did not enlightenthe Vicomte. But there were reasons for which I trust you will not pressme, since I shall find it difficult to answer you with truth. "

"But is your name Lesperon?" cried Lesperon. 

"That, monsieur, is a small matter. Whether my name is Lesperon ornot, I confess to having practised a duplicity upon the Vicomte and hisfamily, since I am certainly not the Lesperon whose identity I accepted. But if I accepted that identity, monsieur, I also accepted yourliabilities, and so I think that you should find it in your heart toextend me some measure of forgiveness. As Rene de Lesperon, of Lesperonin Gascony, I was arrested last night at Lavedan, and, as you mayobserve, I am being taken to Toulouse to stand the charge of hightreason. I have not demurred; I have not denied in the hour of troublethe identity that served me in my hour of need. I am taking thebitter with the sweet, and I assure you, gentlemen, that the bitterpredominates in a very marked degree. "

"But this must not be, " cried Lesperon, rising. "I know not what useyou may have made of my name, but I have no reason to think that you canhave brought discredit upon it, and so--"

"I thank you, monsieur, but--"

"And so I cannot submit that you shall go to Toulouse in my stead. Whereis this officer whose prisoner you are? Pray summon him, monsieur, andlet us set the matter right. "

"This is very generous, " I answered calmly. "But I have crimes enoughupon my head, and so, if the worst should befall me, I am simply atoningin one person for the errors of two. "

"But that is no concern of mine!" he cried. 

"It is so much your concern that if you commit so egregious a blunder asto denounce yourself, you will have ruined yourself, without materiallybenefitting me. "

He still objected, but in this strain I argued for some time, and tosuch good purpose that in the end I made him realize that by betrayinghimself he would not save me, but only join me on the journey to thescaffold. 

"Besides, gentlemen, " I pursued, "my case is far from hopeless. I haveevery confidence that, as matters stand, by putting forth my hand at theright moment, by announcing my identity at the proper season, I can, ifI am so inclined, save my neck from the headsman. "

"If you are so inclined?" they both cried, their looks charged withinquiry. 

"Let that be, " I answered; "it does not at present concern us. WhatI desire you to understand, Monsieur de Lesperon, is that if I go toToulouse alone, when the time comes to proclaim myself, and it is foundthat I am not Rene de Lesperon, of Lesperon in Gascony, they will assumethat you are dead, and there will be no count against me. 

"But if you come with me, and thereby afford proof that you are alive, my impersonation of you may cause me trouble. They may opine that I havebeen an abettor of treason, that I have attempted to circumvent theends of justice, and that I may have impersonated you in order to renderpossible your escape. For that, you may rest assured, they will punishme. 

"You will see, therefore, that my own safety rests on your passingquietly out of France and leaving the belief behind you that you aredead--a belief that will quickly spread once I shall have cast off youridentity. You apprehend me?"

"Vaguely, monsieur; and perhaps you are right. What do you say, Stanislas?"

"Say?" cried the fiery Marsac. "I am weighed down with shame, my poorRene, for having so misjudged you. "

More he would have said in the same strain, but Lesperon cut him shortand bade him attend to the issue now before him. They discussed itat some length, but always under the cloud in which my mysteriousnessenveloped it, and, in the end, encouraged by my renewed assurances thatI could best save myself if Lesperon were not taken with me, the Gasconconsented to my proposals. 

Marsac was on his way to Spain. His sister, he told us, awaited himat Carcassonne. Lesperon should set out with him at once, and inforty-eight hours they would be beyond the reach of the King's anger. 

"I have a favour to ask of you, Monsieur de Marsac, " said I, rising;for our business was at an end. "It is that if you should have anopportunity of communicating with Mademoiselle de Lavedan, you willlet her know that I am not--not the Lesperon that is betrothed to yoursister. "

"I will inform her of it, monsieur, " he answered readily; and then, of asudden, a look of understanding and of infinite pity came into his eyes. "My God!" he cried. 

"What is it, monsieur?" I asked, staggered by that sudden outcry. 

"Do not ask me, monsieur, do not ask me. I had forgotten for the moment, in the excitement of all these revelations. But--" He stopped short. 

"Well, monsieur?"

He seemed to ponder a moment, then looking at me again with that samecompassionate glance, "You had better know, " said he. "And yet--it is adifficult thing to tell you. I understand now much that I had not dreamtof. You--you have no suspicion of how you came to be arrested?"

"For my alleged participation in the late rebellion?"

"Yes, yes. But who gave the information of your whereabouts? Who toldthe Keeper of the Seals where you were to be found?"

"Oh, that?" I answered easily. "Why, I never doubted it. It was thecoxcomb Saint-Eustache. I whipped him--"

I stopped short. There was something in Marsac's black face, somethingin his glance, that forced the unspoken truth upon my mind. 

"Mother in heaven!" I cried. "Do you mean that it was Mademoiselle deLavedan?"

He bowed his head in silence. Did she hate me, then, so much as that?Would nothing less than my death appease her, and had I utterly crushedthe love that for a little while she had borne me, that she could bringherself to hand me over to the headsman?

God! What a stab was that! It turned me sick with grief--aye, and withsome rage not against her, oh, not against her; against the fates thathad brought such things to pass. 

I controlled myself while their eyes were yet upon me. I went to thedoor and held it open for them, and they, perceiving something of mydisorder, were courteous enough to omit the protracted leave-takingsthat under other auspices there might have been. Marsac paused a momenton the threshold as if he would have offered me some word of comfort. Then, perceiving, perhaps, how banal must be all comfort that was ofwords alone, and how it might but increase the anger of the wound it wasmeant to balm, he sighed a simple "Adieu, monsieur!" and went his way. 

When they were gone, I returned to the table, and, sitting down, Iburied my head in my arms, and there I lay, a prey to the most poignantgrief that in all my easy, fortunate life I had ever known. That sheshould have done this thing! That the woman I loved, the pure, sweet, innocent girl that I had wooed so ardently in my unworthiness atLavedan, should have stooped to such an act of betrayal! To what had Inot reduced her, since such things could be!

Then, out of my despair grew comfort, slowly at first, and morevigorously anon. The sudden shock of the news had robbed me of some ofmy wit, and had warped my reasoning. Later, as the pain of the blow grewduller, I came to reflect that what she had done was but a proof--anoverwhelming proof--of how deeply she had cared. Such hatred as thiscan be but born of a great love; reaction is ever to be measured by theaction that occasions it, and a great revulsion can only come of a greataffection. Had she been indifferent to me, or had she but entertainedfor me a passing liking, she would not have suffered so. 

And so I came to realize how cruel must have been the pang that haddriven her to this. But she had loved me; aye, and she loved me still, for all that she thought she hated, and for all that she had acted asif she hated. But even if I were wrong--even if she did hate me--what afresh revulsion would not be hers when anon she learnt that--whatever mysins--I had not played lightly with her love; that I was not, as she hadimagined, the betrothed of another woman!

The thought fired me like wine. I was no longer listless--no longerindifferent as to whether I lived or died. I must live. I must enlightenthe Keeper of the Seals and the judges at Toulouse concerning myidentity. Why, indeed, had I ever wavered? Bardelys the Magnificent mustcome to life again, and then--What then?

As suddenly as I had been exalted was I cast down. There was a rumourabroad that Bardelys was dead. In the wake of that rumour I shrewdlyguessed that the report of the wager that had brought him into Languedocwould not be slow to follow. What then? Would she love me any thebetter? Would she hate me any the less? If now she was wounded by thebelief that I had made sport of her love, would not that same belief bewith her again when she came to know the truth?

Aye, the tangle was a grievous one. Yet I took heart. My old resolvereturned to me, and I saw the need for urgency--in that alone couldlie now my redemption in her eyes. My wager must be paid before I againrepaired to her, for all that it should leave me poor indeed. In themean while, I prayed God that she might not hear of it ere I returned totell her. 

CHAPTER XI. THE KING'S COMMISSIONER

For that most amiable of Gascon cadets, Monsieur de Castelroux, I havenaught but the highest praise. In his every dealing with me he revealedhimself so very gallant, generous, and high-minded a gentleman that itwas little short of a pleasure to be his prisoner. He made no inquiriestouching the nature of my interview with those two gentlemen at theHotel de la Couronne, and when at the moment of leaving I requested himto deliver a packet to the taller of those same two he did so withoutcomment or question. That packet contained the portrait of Mademoisellede Marsac, but on the inner wrapper was a note requesting Lesperon notto open it until he should be in Spain. 

Neither Marsac nor Lesperon did I see again before we resumed ourjourney to Toulouse. 

At the moment of setting out a curious incident occurred. Castelroux'scompany of dragoons had ridden into the courtyard as we were mounting. They lined up under their lieutenant's command, to allow us to pass;but as we reached the porte-cochere we were delayed for a moment by atravelling-carriage, entering for relays, and coming, apparently, fromToulouse. Castelroux and I backed our horses until we were in the midstof the dragoons, and so we stood while the vehicle passed in. As itwent by, one of the leather curtains was drawn back, and my heart wasquickened by the sight of a pale girl face, with eyes of blue, and browncurls lying upon the slender neck. Her glance lighted on me, swordlessand in the midst of that company of troopers, and I bowed low upon thewithers of my horse, doffing my hat in distant salutation. 

The curtain dropped again, and eclipsed the face of the woman that hadbetrayed me. With my mind full of wild surmisings as to what emotionsmight have awakened in her upon beholding me, I rode away in silenceat Monsieur de Castelroux's side. Had she experienced any remorse? Anyshame? Whether or not such feelings had been aroused at sight of me, itcertainly would not be long ere she experienced them, for at the Hotelde la Couronne were those who would enlighten her. 

The contemplation of the remorseful grief that might anon beset her whenshe came to ponder the truth of matters, and, with that truth, thosethings that at Lavedan I had uttered, filled me presently with regretand pity. I grew impatient to reach Toulouse and tell the judges of themistake that there had been. My name could not be unknown to them, andthe very mention of it, I thought, should suffice to give them pause andlead them to make inquiries before sending me to the scaffold. Yet I wasnot without uneasiness, for the summariness with which Castelroux hadinformed me they were in the habit of dealing with those accused of hightreason occasioned me some apprehensive pangs. 

This apprehension led me to converse with my captor touching thosetrials, seeking to gather from him who were the judges. I learnt thenthat besides the ordinary Tribunal, a Commissioner had been dispatchedby His Majesty, and was hourly expected to arrive at Toulouse. It wouldbe his mission to supervise and direct the inquiries that were takingplace. It was said, he added, that the King himself was on his waythither, to be present at the trial of Monsieur le Duc de Montmorency. But he was travelling by easy stages, and was not yet expected for somedays. My heart, which had leapt at the news, as suddenly sank againwith the consideration that I should probably be disposed of before theKing's arrival. It would behoove me, therefore, to look elsewhere forhelp and for some one to swear to my identity. 

"Do you know the name of this King's Commissioner?" I asked. 

"It is a certain Comte de Chatellerault, a gentleman man said to standvery high in His Majesty's favour. "

"Chatellerault!" I cried in wondering joy. 

"You know him?"

"Most excellently!" I laughed. "We are very intimately acquainted. "

"Why, then, monsieur, I augur you this gentleman's friendship, and thatit may pilot you through your trouble. Although--" Being mercifullyminded, he stopped short. 

But I laughed easily. "Indeed, my dear Captain, I think it will, "said I; "although friendship in this world is a thing of which theunfortunate know little. "

But I rejoiced too soon, as you shall hear. 

We rode diligently on, our way lying along the fertile banks of theGaronne, now yellow with the rustling corn. Towards evening we made ourlast halt at Fenouillet, whence a couple of hours' riding should bringus to Toulouse. 

At the post-house we overtook a carriage that seemingly had halted forrelays, but upon which I scarce bestowed a glance as I alighted. 

Whilst Castelroux went to arrange for fresh horses, I strode into thecommon room, and there for some moments I stood discussing the viandswith our host. When at last I had resolved that a cold pasty and abottle of Armagnac would satisfy our wants, I looked about me to takesurvey of those in the room. One group in a remote corner suddenlyriveted my attention to such a degree that I remained deaf to the voiceof Castelroux, who had just entered, and who stood now beside me. Inthe centre of this group was the Comte de Chatellerault himself, athick-set, sombre figure, dressed with that funereal magnificence heaffected. 

But it was not the sight of him that filled me with amazement. For that, Castelroux's information had prepared me, and I well understood in whatcapacity he was there. My surprise sprang rather from the factthat amongst the half-dozen gentlemen about him--and evidently inattendance--I beheld the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache. Now, knowing as Idid, the Chevalier's treasonable leanings, there was ample cause for myastonishment at finding him in such company. Apparently, too, he wason very intimate terms with the Count, for in raising my glance Ihad caught him in the act of leaning over to whisper familiarly inChatellerault's ear. 

Their eyes--indeed, for that matter the eyes of the entire company--wereturned in my direction. 

Perhaps it was not a surprising thing that Chatellerault should gazeupon me in that curious fashion, for was it not probable that he hadheard that I was dead? Besides, the fact that I was without a sword, andthat at my side stood a King's officer, afforded evidence enough ofmy condition, and well might Chatellerault stare at beholding me somanifestly a prisoner. 

Even as I watched him, he appeared to start at something thatSaint-Eustache was saying, and a curious change spread over his face. Its whilom expression had been rather one of dismay; for, havingbelieved me dead, he no doubt accounted his wager won, whereas seeing mealive had destroyed that pleasant conviction. But now it took on a lookof relief and of something that suggested malicious cunning. 

"That, " said Castelroux in my ear, "is the King's commissioner. "

Did I not know it? I never waited to answer him, but, striding acrossthe room, I held out my hand over the table--to Chatellerault. 

"My dear Comte, " I cried, "you are most choicely met. "

I would have added more, but there was something in his attitude thatsilenced me. He had turned half from me, and stood now, hand on hip, hisgreat head thrown back and tilted towards his shoulder, his expressionone of freezing and disdainful wonder. 

Now, if his attitude filled me with astonishment and apprehension, consider how these feelings were heightened by his words. 

"Monsieur de Lesperon, I can but express amazement at your effrontery. If we have been acquainted in the past, do you think that is asufficient reason for me to take your hand now that you have placedyourself in a position which renders it impossible for His Majesty'sloyal servants to know you?"

I fell back a pace, my mind scarce grasping yet the depths of thisinexplicable attitude. 

"This to me, Chatellerault?" I gasped. 

"To you?" he blazed, stirred to a sudden passion. "What else did youexpect, Monsieur de Lesperon?"

I had it in me to give him the lie, to denounce him then for a low, swindling trickster. I understood all at once the meaning of thiswondrous make-believe. From Saint-Eustache he had gathered the mistakethere was, and for his wager's sake he would let the error prevail, andhurry me to the scaffold. What else might I have expected from the manthat had lured me into such a wager--a wager which the knowledge hepossessed had made him certain of winning? Would he who had cheated atthe dealing of the cards neglect an opportunity to cheat again duringthe progress of the game?

As I have said, I had it in my mind to cry out that he lied--that I wasnot Lesperon; that he knew I was Bardelys. But the futility of such anoutcry came to me simultaneously with the thought of it. And, I fearme, I stood before him and his satellites--the mocking Saint-Eustacheamongst them--a very foolish figure. 

"There is no more to be said, " I murmured at last. 

"But there is!" he retorted. "There is much more to be said. You shallrender yet an account of your treason, and I am afraid, my poor rebel, that your comely head will part company with your shapely body. You andI will meet at Toulouse. What more is to be said will be said in theTribunal there. "

A chill encompassed me. I was doomed, it seemed. This man, ruling theprovince pending the King's arrival, would see to it that none cameforward to recognize me. He would expedite the comedy of my trial, andclose it with the tragedy of my execution. My professions of a mistakeof identity--if I wasted breath upon them would be treated with disdainand disregarded utterly. God! What a position had I got myself into, andwhat a vein of comedy ran through it--grim, tragic comedy, if you will, yet comedy to all faith. The very woman whom I had wagered to wed hadbetrayed me into the hands of the very man with whom I laid my wager. 

But there was more in it than that. As I had told Mironsac that night inParis, when the thing had been initiated, it was a duel that was beingfought betwixt Chatellerault and me--a duel for supremacy in the King'sgood graces. We were rivals, and he desired my removal from the Court. To this end had he lured me into a bargain that should result in myfinancial ruin, thereby compelling me to withdraw from the costly lifeof the Luxembourg, and leaving him supreme, the sole and uncontestedrecipient of our master's favour. Now into his hand Fate had thrust astouter weapon and a deadlier: a weapon which not only should make himmaster of the wealth that I had pledged, but one whereby he mightremove me for all time, a thousandfold more effectively than the mereencompassing of my ruin would have done. 

I was doomed. I realized it fully and very bitterly. 

I was to go out of the ways of men unnoticed and unmourned; as a rebel, under the obscure name of another and bearing another's sins upon myshoulders, I was to pass almost unheeded to the gallows. Bardelys theMagnificent--the Marquis Marcel Saint-Pol de Bardelys, whose splendourhad been a byword in France--was to go out like a guttering candle. 

The thought filled me with the awful frenzy that so often goes withimpotency, such a frenzy as the damned in hell may know. I forgot inthat hour my precept that under no conditions should a gentleman giveway to anger. In a blind access of fury I flung myself across the tableand caught that villainous cheat by the throat, before any there couldput out a hand to stop me. 

He was a heavy man, if a short one, and the strength of his thick-setframe was a thing abnormal. Yet at that moment such nervous power didI gather from my rage, that I swung him from his feet as though he hadbeen the puniest weakling. I dragged him down on to the table, and thereI ground his face with a most excellent good-will and relish. 

"You liar, you cheat, you thief!" I snarled like any cross-grainedmongrel. "The King shall hear of this, you knave! By God, he shall!"

They dragged me from him at last--those lapdogs that attended him--andwith much rough handling they sent me sprawling among the sawdust onthe floor. It is more than likely that but for Castelroux's interventionthey had made short work of me there and then. 

But with a bunch of Mordieus, Sangdieus, and Po' Cap de Dieus, thelittle Gascon flung himself before my prostrate figure, and bade them inthe King's name, and at their peril, to stand back. 

Chatellerault, sorely shaken, his face purple, and with blood streamingfrom his nostrils, had sunk into a chair. He rose now, and his firstwords were incoherent, raging gasps. 

"What is your name, sir?" he bellowed at last, addressing the Captain. 

"Amedee de Mironsac de Castelroux, of Chateau Rouge in Gascony, "answered my captor, with a grand manner and a flourish, and added, "Yourservant. "

"What authority have you to allow your prisoners this degree offreedom?"

"I do not need authority, monsieur, " replied the Gascon. 

"Do you not?" blazed the Count. "We shall see. Wait until I am inToulouse, my malapert friend. "

Castelroux drew himself up, straight as a rapier, his face slightlyflushed and his glance angry, yet he had the presence of mind torestrain himself, partly at least. 

"I have my orders from the Keeper of the Seals, to effect theapprehension of Monsieur de Lesperon; and to deliver him up, alive ordead, at Toulouse. So that I do this, the manner of it is my own affair, and who presumes to criticize my methods censoriously impugns my honourand affronts me. And who affronts me, monsieur, be he whosoever he maybe, renders me satisfaction. I beg that you will bear that circumstancein mind. "

His moustaches bristled as he spoke, and altogether his air was veryfierce and truculent. For a moment I trembled for him. But the Countevidently thought better of it than to provoke a quarrel, particularlyone in which he would be manifestly in the wrong, King's Commissionerthough he might be. There was an exchange of questionable complimentsbetwixt the officer and the Count, whereafter, to avoid furtherunpleasantness, Castelroux conducted me to a private room, where we tookour meal in gloomy silence. 

It was not until an hour later, when we were again in the saddleand upon the last stage of our journey, that I offered Castelroux anexplanation of my seemingly mad attack upon Chatellerault. 

"You have done a very rash and unwise thing, monsieur, " he had commentedregretfully, and it was in answer to this that I poured out the wholestory. I had determined upon this course while we were supping, forCastelroux was now my only hope, and as we rode beneath the stars ofthat September night I made known to him my true identity. 

I told him that Chatellerault knew me, and I informed him that a wagerlay between us--withholding the particulars of its nature--which hadbrought me into Languedoc and into the position wherein he had found andarrested me. At first he hesitated to believe me, but when at last Ihad convinced him by the vehemence of my assurances as much as bythe assurances themselves, he expressed such opinions of the Comte deChatellerault as made my heart go out to him. 

"You see, my dear Castelroux, that you are now my last hope, " I said. 

"A forlorn one, my poor gentleman!" he groaned. 

"Nay, that need not be. My intendant Rodenard and some twenty of myservants should be somewhere betwixt this and Paris. Let them be soughtfor monsieur, and let us pray God that they be still in Languedoc andmay be found in time. "

"It shall be done, monsieur, I promise you, " he answered me solemnly. "But I implore you not to hope too much from it. Chatellerault has it inhis power to act promptly, and you may depend that he will waste no timeafter what has passed. "

"Still, we may have two or three days, and in those days you must dowhat you can, my friend. "

"You may depend upon me, " he promised. 

"And meanwhile, Castelroux, " said I, "you will say no word of this toany one. "

That assurance also he gave me, and presently the lights of ourdestination gleamed out to greet us. 

That night I lay in a dank and gloomy cell of the prison of Toulouse, with never a hope to bear company during those dark, wakeful hours. 

A dull rage was in my soul as I thought of my position, for it had notneeded Castelroux's recommendation to restrain me from building falsehopes upon his chances of finding Rodenard and my followers in timeto save me. Some little ray of consolation I culled, perhaps, from mythoughts of Roxalanne. Out of the gloom of my cell my fancy fashionedher sweet girl face and stamped it with a look of gentle pity, ofinfinite sorrow for me and for the hand she had had in bringing me tothis. 

That she loved me I was assured, and I swore that if I lived I wouldwin her yet, in spite of every obstacle that I myself had raised for myundoing. 

CHAPTER XII. THE TRIBUNAL OF TOULOUSE

I had hoped to lie some days in prison before being brought totrial, and that during those days Castelroux might have succeeded indiscovering those who could witness to my identity. Conceive, therefore, something of my dismay when on the morrow I was summoned an hour beforenoon to go present myself to my judges. 

From the prison to the Palace I was taken in chains like any thief--forthe law demanded this indignity to be borne by one charged with thecrimes they imputed to me. The distance was but short, yet I found itover-long, which is not wonderful considering that the people stoppedto line up as I went by and to cast upon me a shower of opprobriousderision--for Toulouse was a very faithful and loyal city. It was withinsome two hundred yards of the Palace steps that I suddenly beheld a facein the crowd, at the sight of which I stood still in my amazement. Thisearned me a stab in the back from the butt-end of the pike of one of myguards. 

"What ails you now?" quoth the man irritably. "Forward, Monsieur letraite!"

I moved on, scarce remarking the fellow's roughness; my eyes werestill upon that face--the white, piteous face of Roxalanne. I smiledreassurance and encouragement, but even as I smiled the horror in hercountenance seemed to increase. Then, as I passed on, she vanished frommy sight, and I was left to conjecture the motives that had occasionedher return to Toulouse. Had the message that Marsac would yesterday haveconveyed to her caused her to retrace her steps that she might be nearme in my extremity; or had some weightier reason influenced her return?Did she hope to undo some of the evil she had done? Alas, poor child! Ifsuch were her hopes, I sorely feared me they would prove very idle. 

Of my trial I should say but little did not the exigencies of my storyrender it necessary to say much. Even now, across the gap of years, mygorge rises at the mockery which, in the King's name, those gentlemenmade of justice. I can allow for the troubled conditions of the times, and I can realize how in cases of civil disturbances and rebellionit may be expedient to deal summarily with traitors, yet not all theallowances that I can think of would suffice to condone the methods ofthat tribunal. 

The trial was conducted in private by the Keeper of the Seals--alean, wizened individual, with an air as musty and dry as that of theparchments among which he had spent his days. He was supported bysix judges, and on his right sat the King's Commissioner, Monsieurde Chatellerault--the bruised condition of whose countenance stilladvertised the fact that we had met but yesterday. 

Upon being asked my name and place of abode, I created some commotionby answering boldly "I am the Sieur Marcel de Saint-Pol, Marquis ofBardelys, of Bardelys in Picardy. "

The President--that is to say, the Keeper of the Seals--turnedinquiringly to Chatellerault. The Count, however, did no more thansmile and point to something written on a paper that lay spread upon thetable. The President nodded. 

"Monsieur Rene de Lesperon, " said he, "the Court may perhaps not be ableto discriminate whether this statement of yours is a deliberate attemptto misguide or frustrate the ends of justice, or whether, either inconsequence of your wounds or as a visitation of God for your treason, you are the victim of a deplorable hallucination. But the Court wishesyou to understand that it is satisfied of your identity. The papersfound upon your person at the time of your arrest, besides otherevidence in our power, remove all possibility of doubt in thatconnection. Therefore, in your own interests, we implore you to abandonthese false statements, if so be that you are master of your wits. Youronly hope of saving your head must lie in your truthfully answering ourquestions, and even then, Monsieur de Lesperon, the hope that we holdout to you is so slight as to be no hope at all. "

There was a pause, during which the other judges nodded their heads insage approval of their President's words. For myself, I kept silent, perceiving how little it could avail me to continue to protest, andawaited his next question. 

"You were arrested, monsieur, at the Chateau de Lavedan two nights agoby a company of dragoons under the command of Captain de Castelroux. Isthat so?"

"It is so, monsieur. "

"And at the time of your arrest, upon being apprehended as Rene deLesperon, you offered no repudiation of the identity; on the contrary, when Monsieur de Castelroux called for Monsieur de Lesperon, you steppedforward and acknowledged that you were he. "

"Pardon, monsieur. What I acknowledged was that I was known by thatname. "

The President chuckled evilly, and his satellites smiled in politereflection of his mood. 

"This acute differentiating is peculiar, Monsieur de Lesperon, topersons of unsound mental condition, " said he. "I am afraid that it willserve little purpose. A man is generally known by his name, is he not?"I did not answer him. "Shall we call Monsieur de Castelroux to confirmwhat I have said?"

"It is not necessary. Since you allow that I may have said I was knownby the name, but refuse to recognize the distinction between that anda statement that 'Lesperon' is my name, it would serve no purpose tosummon the Captain. "

The President nodded, and with that the point was dismissed, and heproceeded as calmly as though there never had been any question of myidentity. 

"You are charged, Monsieur de Lesperon, with high treason in its mostvirulent and malignant form. You are accused of having borne armsagainst His Majesty. Have you anything to say?"

"I have to say that it is false, monsieur; that His Majesty has no morefaithful or loving subject than am I. "

The President shrugged his shoulders, and a shade of annoyance crossedhis face. 

"If you are come here for no other purpose than to deny the statementsthat I make, I am afraid that we are but wasting time, " he criedtestily. "If you desire it, I can summon Monsieur de Castelroux to swearthat at the time of your arrest and upon being charged with the crimeyou made no repudiation of that charge. "

"Naturally not, monsieur, " I cried, somewhat heated by this seeminglystudied ignoring of important facts, "because I realized that it wasMonsieur de Castelroux's mission to arrest and not to judge me. Monsieurde Castelroux was an officer, not a Tribunal, and to have denied this orthat to him would have been so much waste of breath. "

"Ah! Very nimble; very nimble, in truth, Monsieur de Lesperon, butscarcely convincing. We will proceed. You are charged with having takenpart in several of the skirmishes against the armies of Marshalsde Schomberg and La Force, and finally, with having been in closeattendance upon Monsieur de Montmorency at the battle of Castelnaudary. What have you to say?"

"That it is utterly untrue. "

"Yet your name, monsieur, is on a list found among the papers in thecaptured baggage of Monsieur le Duc de Montmorency. "

"No, monsieur, " I denied stoutly, "it is not. "

The President smote the table a blow that scattered a flight of papers. 

"Par la mort Dieu!" he roared, with a most indecent exhibition of temperin one so placed. "I have had enough of your contradictions. You forget, monsieur, your position--"

"At least, " I broke in harshly, "no less than you forget yours. "

The Keeper of the Seals gasped for breath at that, and his fellowjudges murmured angrily amongst themselves. Chatellerault maintained hissardonic smile, but permitted himself to utter no word. 

"I would, gentlemen, " I cried, addressing them all, "that His Majestywere here to see how you conduct your trials and defile his Courts. Asfor you, Monsieur le President, you violate the sanctity of your officein giving way to anger; it is a thing unpardonable in a judge. I havetold you in plain terms, gentlemen, that I am not this Rene de Lesperonwith whose crimes you charge me. Yet, in spite of my denials, ignoringthem, or setting them down either to a futile attempt at defence or toan hallucination of which you suppose me the victim, you proceed to laythose crimes to my charge, and when I deny your charges you speak ofproofs that can only apply to another. 

"How shall the name of Lesperon having been found among the Duke ofMontmorency's papers convict me of treason, since I tell you that I amnot Lesperon? Had you the slightest, the remotest sense of your highduty, messieurs, you would ask me rather to explain how, if what Istate be true, I come to be confounded with Lesperon and arrested inhis place. Then, messieurs, you might seek to test the accuracy of whatstatements I may make; but to proceed as you are proceeding is not tojudge but to murder. Justice is represented as a virtuous woman withbandaged eyes, holding impartial scales; in your hands, gentlemen, by mysoul, she is become a very harlot clutching a veil. "

Chatellerault's cynical smile grew broader as my speech proceeded andstirred up the rancour in the hearts of those august gentlemen. TheKeeper of the Seals went white and red by turns, and when I paused therewas an impressive silence that lasted for some moments. At last thePresident leant over to confer in a whisper with Chatellerault. Then, in a voice forcedly calm--like the calm of Nature when thunder isbrewing--he asked me, "Who do you insist that you are, monsieur?"

"Once already have I told you, and I venture to think that mine is aname not easily forgotten. I am the Sieur Marcel de Saint-Pol, Marquisof Bardelys, of Bardelys in Picardy. "

A cunning grin parted his thin lips. 

"Have you any witnesses to identify you?"

"Hundreds, monsieur!" I answered eagerly, seeing salvation alreadywithin my grasp. 

"Name some of them. "

"I will name one--one whose word you will not dare to doubt. "

"That is?"

"His Majesty the King. I am told that he is on his way to Toulouse, andI but ask, messieurs, that you await his arrival before going furtherwith my trial. "

"Is there no other witness of whom you can think, monsieur? Some witnessthat might be produced more readily. For if you can, indeed, establishthe identity you claim, why should you languish in prison for someweeks?"

His voice was soft and oily. The anger had all departed out of it, whichI--like a fool--imagined to be due to my mention of the King. 

"My friends, Monsieur le Garde des Sceaux, are all either in Paris or inHis Majesty's train, and so not likely to be here before him. Thereis my intendant, Rodenard, and there are my servants--some twentyof them--who may perhaps be still in Languedoc, and for whom I wouldentreat you to seek. Them you might succeed in finding within a few daysif they have not yet determined to return to Paris in the belief that Iam dead. "

He stroked his chin meditatively, his eyes raised to the sunlit dome ofglass overhead. 

"Ah-h!" he gasped. It was a long-drawn sigh of regret, of conclusion, orof weary impatience. "There is no one in Toulouse who will swear to youridentity monsieur?" he asked. 

"I am afraid there is not, " I replied. "I know of no one. "

As I uttered those words the President's countenance changed as abruptlyas if he had flung off a mask. From soft and cat-like that he had beenduring the past few moments, he grew of a sudden savage as a tiger. Heleapt to his feet, his face crimson, his eyes seeming to blaze, andthe words he spoke came now in a hot, confused, and almost incoherenttorrent. 

"Miserable!" he roared, "out of your own mouth have you convictedyourself. And to think that you should have stood there and wasted thetime of this Court--His Majesty's time--with your damnable falsehoods!What purpose did you think to serve by delaying your doom? Did youimagine that haply, whilst we sent to Paris for your witnesses, theKing might grow weary of justice, and in some fit of clemency announce ageneral pardon? Such things have been known, and it may be that in yourcunning you played for such a gain based upon such a hope. But justice, fool, is not to be cozened. Had you, indeed, been Bardelys, you had seenthat here in this court sits a gentleman who is very intimate with him. He is there, monsieur; that is Monsieur le Comte de Chatellerault, ofwhom perhaps you may have heard. Yet, when I ask you whether in Toulousethere is any one who can bear witness to your identity, you answer methat you know of no one. I will waste no more time with you, I promiseyou. "

He flung himself back into his chair like a man exhausted, and moppedhis brow with a great kerchief which he had drawn from his robes. Hisfellow judges laid their heads together, and with smiles and nods, winksand leers, they discussed and admired the miraculous subtlety and acumenof this Solomon. Chatellerault sat, calmly smiling, in solemn mockery. 

For a spell I was too thunderstruck to speak, aghast at thiscatastrophe. Like a fool, indeed, I had tumbled into the pit that hadbeen dug for me by Chatellerault for I never doubted that it was of hiscontriving. At last, "My masters, " said I, "these conclusions mayappear to you most plausible, but, believe me, they are fallacious. I amperfectly acquainted with Monsieur de Chatellerault, and he with me, and if he were to speak the truth and play the man and the gentlemanfor once, he would tell you that I am, indeed, Bardelys. But Monsieur leComte has ends of his own to serve in sending me to my doom. It is in asense through his agency that I am at present in this position, and thatI have been confounded with Lesperon. What, then, could it have availedme to have made appeal to him? And yet, Monsieur le President, he wasborn a gentleman, and he may still retain some notion of honour. Askhim, sir--ask him point-blank, whether I am or not Marcel de Bardelys. "

The firmness of my tones created some impression upon those feebleminds. Indeed, the President went so far as to turn an interrogativeglance upon the Count. But Chatellerault, supremely master of thesituation, shrugged his shoulders, and smiled a pitying, long-sufferingsmile. 

"Must I really answer such a question, Monsieur le President?" heinquired in a voice and with a manner that clearly implied how low wouldbe his estimate of the President's intelligence if he were, indeed, constrained to do so. 

"But no, Monsieur le Comte, " replied the President with sudden haste, and in scornful rejection of the idea. "There is no necessity that youshould answer. "

"But the question, Monsieur le President!" I thundered, my handoutstretched towards Chatellerault. "Ask him--if you have any sense ofyour duty--ask him am I not Marcel de Bardelys. "

"Silence!" blazed the President back at me. "You shall not fool us anylonger, you nimble-witted liar!"

My head drooped. This coward had, indeed, shattered my last hope. 

"Some day, monsieur, " I said very quietly, "I promise you that yourbehaviour and these gratuitous insults shall cost you your position. Pray God they do not cost you also your head!"

My words they treated as one might treat the threats of a child. ThatI should have had the temerity to utter them did but serve finally todecide my doom, if, indeed, anything had been wanting. 

With many epithets of opprobrium, such as are applied to malefactorsof the lowest degree, they passed sentence of death upon me, and withdrooping spirits, giving myself up for lost and assured that I shouldbe led to the block before many hours were sped, I permitted them toreconduct me through the streets of Toulouse to my prison. 

I could entertain you at length upon my sensations as I walked betweenmy guards, a man on the threshold of eternity, with hundreds of men andwomen gaping at me--men and women who would live for years to gape uponmany another wretch in my position. The sun shone with a brilliance thatto such eyes as mine was a very mockery. Thus would it shine on throughcenturies, and light many another unfortunate to the scaffold. The verysky seemed pitiless in the intensity of its cobalt. Unfeeling I deemedthe note that everywhere was struck by man and Nature, so discordant wasit with my gloomy outlook. If you would have food for reflection uponthe evanescent quality of life, upon the nothingness of man, uponthe empty, heartless egoism implicit in human nature, get yourselvessentenced to death, and then look around you. With such a force was allthis borne in upon me, and with such sufficiency, that after the firstpang was spent I went near to rejoicing that things were as they were, and that I was to die, haply before sunset. It was become such a worldas did not seem worth a man's while to live in: a world of vainness, ofhollowness, of meanness, of nothing but illusions. The knowledge that Iwas about to die, that I was about to quit all this, seemed to havetorn some veil from my eyes, and to have permitted me to recognize theworthless quality of what I left. Well may it be that such are but thethoughts of a man's dying moments, whispered into his soul by a mercifulGod to predispose him for the wrench and agony of his passing. 

I had been a half-hour in my cell when the door was opened to admitCastelroux, whom I had not seen since the night before. He came tocondole with me in my extremity, and yet to bid me not utterly losehope. 

"It is too late to-day to carry out the sentence, " said he, "and asto-morrow will be Sunday, you will have until the day after. By thenmuch may betide, monsieur. My agents are everywhere scouring theprovince for your servants, and let us pray Heaven that they may succeedin their search. "

"It is a forlorn hope, Monsieur de Castelroux, " I sighed, "and I willpin no faith to it lest I suffer a disappointment that will embitter mylast moments, and perhaps rob me of some of the fortitude I shall haveneed of. "

He answered me, nevertheless, with words of encouragement. No effort wasbeing spared, and if Rodenard and my men were still in Languedoc thenwas every likelihood that they would be brought to Toulouse in time. Then he added that that, however, was not the sole object of his visit. A lady had obtained permission of the Keeper of the Seals to visit me, and she was waiting to be admitted. 

"A lady?" I exclaimed, and the thought of Roxalanne flitted through mymind. "Mademoiselle de Lavedan?" I inquired. 

He nodded. "Yes, " said he; then added, "She seems in sore affliction, monsieur. "

I besought him to admit her forthwith, and presently she came. Castelroux closed the door as he withdrew, and we were left alonetogether. As she put aside her cloak, and disclosed to me the pallor ofher face and the disfiguring red about her gentle eyes, telling oftears and sleeplessness, all my own trouble seemed to vanish in thecontemplation of her affliction. 

We stood a moment confronting each other with no word spoken. Then, dropping her glance, and advancing a step, in a faltering, hesitatingmanner "Monsieur, monsieur, " she murmured in a suffocating voice. 

In a bound I was beside her, and I had gathered her in my arms, herlittle brown head against my shoulder. 

"Roxalanne!" I whispered as soothingly as I might--"Roxalanne!"

But she struggled to be free of my embrace. 

"Let me go, monsieur, " she pleaded, a curious shrinking in her veryvoice. "Do not touch me, monsieur. You do not know--you do not know. "

For answer, I enfolded her more tightly still. 

"But I do know, little one, " I whispered; "and I even understand. "

At that, her struggles ceased upon the instant, and she seemed to lielimp and helpless in my arms. 

"You know, monsieur, " she questioned me--"you know that I betrayed you?"

"Yes, " I answered simply. 

"And you can forgive me? I am sending you to your death and you have noreproaches for me! Oh, monsieur, it will kill me!"

"Hush, child!" I whispered. "What reproaches can I have for you? I knowthe motives that impelled you. "

"Not altogether, monsieur; you cannot know them. I loved you, monsieur. I do love you, monsieur. Oh! this is not a time to consider words. If Iam bold and unmaidenly, I--I--"

"Neither bold nor unmaidenly, but--oh, the sweetest damsel in allFrance, my Roxalanne!" I broke in, coming to her aid. "Mine was aleprous, sinful soul, child, when I came into Languedoc. I had nofaith in any human good, and I looked as little for an honest man or avirtuous woman as one looks for honey in a nettle. I was soured, and mylife had hardly been such a life as it was meet to bring into contactwith your own. Then, among the roses at Lavedan, in your dear company, Roxalanne, it seemed that some of the good, some of the sweetness, someof the purity about you were infused anew into my heart. I became youngagain, and I seemed oddly cleansed. In that hour of my rejuvenation Iloved you, Roxalanne. "

Her face had been raised to mine as I spoke. There came now a flutter ofthe eyelids, a curious smile about the lips. Then her head drooped againand was laid against my breast; a sigh escaped her, and she began toweep softly. 

"Nay, Roxalanne, do not fret. Come, child, it is not your way to beweak. "

"I have betrayed you!" she moaned. "I am sending you to your death!"

"I understand, I understand, " I answered, smoothing her brown hair. 

"Not quite, monsieur. I loved you so, monsieur, that you can have nothought of how I suffered that morning when Mademoiselle de Marsac cameto Lavedan. 

"At first it was but the pain of thinking that--that I was about to loseyou; that you were to go out of my life, and that I should see you nomore--you whom I had enshrined so in my heart. 

"I called myself a little fool that morning for having dreamed thatyou had come to care for me; my vanity I thought had deluded me intoimagining that your manner towards me had a tenderness that spoke ofaffection. I was bitter with myself, and I suffered oh, so much! Thenlater, when I was in the rose garden, you came to me. 

"You remember how you seized me, and how by your manner you showedme that it was not vanity alone had misled me. You had fooled me, Ithought; even in that hour I imagined you were fooling me; you madelight of me; and my sufferings were naught to you so that I might giveyou some amusement to pass the leisure and monotony of your sojourn withus. "

"Roxalanne--my poor Roxalanne!" I whispered. 

"Then my bitterness and sorrow all turned to anger against you. You hadbroken my heart, and I thought that you had done it wantonly. For that Iburned to punish you. Ah! and not only that, perhaps. I think, too, thatsome jealousy drove me on. You had wooed and slighted me, yet you hadmade me love you, and if you were not for me I swore you should befor no other. And so, while my madness endured, I quitted Lavedan, andtelling my father that I was going to Auch, to his sister's house, Icame to Toulouse and betrayed you to the Keeper of the Seals. 

"Scarce was the thing done than I beheld the horror of it, and I hatedmyself. In my despair, I abandoned all idea of pursuing the journeyto Auch, but turned and made my way back in haste, hoping that I mightstill come to warn you. But at Grenade I met you already in charge ofthe soldiers. At Grenade, too I learnt the truth--that you were notLesperon. Can you not guess something of my anguish then? Alreadyloathing my act, and beside myself for having betrayed you, think intowhat despair I was plunged by Monsieur de Marsac's intimation. 

"Then I understood that for reasons of your own you had concealed youridentity. You were not perhaps, betrothed; indeed, I remembered thenhow, solemnly you had sworn that you were not; and so I bethought methat your vows to me may have been sincere and such as a maid mighthonourably listen to. "

"They were, Roxalanne! they were!" I cried. 

But she continued "That you had Mademoiselle de Marsac's portrait wassomething that I could not explain; but then I hear that you had alsoLesperon's papers upon you; so that you may have become possessed of theone with the others. And now, monsieur--"

She ceased, and there against my breast she lay weeping and weepingin her bitter passion of regret, until it seemed to me she would neverregain her self-control. 

"It has been all my fault, Roxalanne, " said I, "and if I am to pay theprice they are exacting, it will be none too high. I embarked upon adastardly business; which brought me to Languedoc under false colours. I wish, indeed, that I had told you when first the impulse to tell youcame upon me. Afterwards it grew impossible. "

"Tell me now, " she begged. "Tell me who you are. "

Sorely was I tempted to respond. Almost was I on the point of doing so, when suddenly the thought of how she might shrink from me, of how, eventhen, she might come to think that I had but simulated love for her forinfamous purposes of gain, restrained and silenced me. During the fewhours of life that might be left me I would at least be lord and masterof her heart. When I was dead--for I had little hope of Castelroux'sefforts--it would matter less, and perhaps because I was dead she wouldbe merciful. 

"I cannot, Roxalanne. Not even now. It is too vile! If--if they carryout the sentence on Monday, I shall leave a letter for you, telling youeverything. "

She shuddered, and a sob escaped her. From my identity her mind fledback to the more important matter of my fate. 

"They will not carry it out, monsieur! Oh, they till not! Say that youcan defend yourself, that you are not the man they believe you to be!"

"We are in God's hands, child. It may be that I shall save myself yet. If I do, I shall come straight to you, and you shall know all that thereis to know. But, remember, child"--and raising her face in my hands, Ilooked down into the blue of her tearful eyes--"remember, little one, that in one thing I have been true and honourable, and influenced bynothing but my heart--in my wooing of you. I love you, Roxalanne, withall my soul, and if I should die you are the only thing in all thisworld that I experience a regret at leaving. "

"I do believe it; I do, indeed. Nothing can ever alter my belief again. Will you not, then, tell me who you are, and what is this thing, whichyou call dishonourable, that brought you into Languedoc?"

A moment again I pondered. Then I shook my head. 

"Wait, child, " said I; and she, obedient to my wishes, asked no more. 

It was the second time that I neglected a favourable opportunity ofmaking that confession, and as I had regretted having allowed the firstoccasion to pass unprofited, so was I, and still more poignantly, toregret this second silence. 

A little while she stayed with me yet, and I sought to instil somemeasure of comfort into her soul. I spoke of the hopes that I based uponCastelroux's finding friends to recognize me--hopes that were passingslender. And she, poor child, sought also to cheer me and give mecourage. 

"If only the King were here!" she sighed. "I would go to him, and on myknees I would plead for your enlargement. But they say he is no nearerthan Lyons; and I could not hope to get there and back by Monday. I willgo to the Keeper of the Seals again, monsieur, and I will beg him to bemerciful, and at least to delay the sentence. "

I did not discourage her; I did not speak of the futility of such astep. But I begged her to remain in Toulouse until Monday, thatshe might visit me again before the end, if the end were to becomeinevitable. 

Then Castelroux came to reconduct her, and we parted. But she left mea great consolation, a great strengthening comfort. If I were destined, indeed, to walk to the scaffold, it seemed that I could do it with abetter grace and a gladder courage now. 

CHAPTER XIII. THE ELEVENTH HOUR

Castelroux visited me upon the following morning, but he brought no newsthat might be accounted encouraging. None of his messengers were yetreturned, nor had any sent word that they were upon the trail of myfollowers. My heart sank a little, and such hope as I still fosteredwas fast perishing. Indeed, so imminent did my doom appear and sounavoidable, that later in the day I asked for pen and paper that Imight make an attempt at setting my earthly affairs to rights. Yet whenthe writing materials were brought me, I wrote not. I sat instead withthe feathered end of my quill between my teeth, and thus pondered thematter of the disposal of my Picardy estates. 

Coldly I weighed the wording of the wager and the events that hadtranspired, and I came at length to the conclusion that Chatelleraultcould not be held to have the least claim upon my lands. That he hadcheated at the very outset, as I have earlier shown, was of less accountthan that he had been instrumental in violently hindering me. 

I took at last the resolve to indite a full memoir of the transaction, and to request Castelroux to see that it was delivered to the Kinghimself. Thus not only would justice be done, but I should--thoughtardily--be even with the Count. No doubt he relied upon his power tomake a thorough search for such papers as I might leave, and to destroyeverything that might afford indication of my true identity. But he hadnot counted upon the good feeling that had sprung up betwixt the littleGascon captain and me, nor yet upon my having contrived to convince thelatter that I was, indeed, Bardelys, and he little dreamt of such a stepas I was about to take to ensure his punishment hereafter. 

Resolved at last, I was commencing to write when my attention wasarrested by an unusual sound. It was at first no more than a murmuringnoise, as of at sea breaking upon its shore. Gradually it grew itsvolume and assumed the shape of human voices raised in lusty clamour. Then, above the din of the populace, a gun boomed out, then another, andanother. 

I sprang up at that, and, wondering what might be toward, I crossed tomy barred window and stood there listening. I overlooked the courtyardof the jail, and I could see some commotion below, in sympathy, as itwere, with the greater commotion without. 

Presently, as the populace drew nearer, it seemed to me that theshouting was of acclamation. Next I caught a blare of trumpets, and, lastly, I was able to distinguish above the noise, which had now grownto monstrous proportions, the clattering hoofs of some cavalcade thatwas riding past the prison doors. 

It was borne in upon me that some great personage was arriving inToulouse, and my first thought was of the King. At the idea of such apossibility my brain whirled and I grew dizzy with hope. The next momentI recalled that but last night Roxalanne had told me that he was nonearer than Lyons, and so I put the thought from me, and the hopewith it, for, travelling in that leisurely, indolent fashion that wascharacteristic of his every action, it would be a miracle if His Majestyshould reach Toulouse before the week was out, and this but Sunday. 

The populace passed on, then seemed to halt, and at last the shouts dieddown on the noontide air. I went back to my writing, and to wait untilfrom my jailer, when next he should chance to appear, I might learn themeaning of that uproar. 

An hour perhaps went by, and I had made some progress with my memoir, when my door was opened and the cheery voice of Castelroux greeted mefrom the threshold. 

"Monsieur, I have brought a friend to see you. "

I turned in my chair, and one glance at the gentle, comely face andthe fair hair of the young man standing beside Castelroux was enough tobring me of a sudden to my feet. 

"Mironsac!" I shouted, and sprang towards him with hands outstretched. 

But though my joy was great and my surprise profound, greater still wasthe bewilderment that in Mironsac's face I saw depicted. 

"Monsieur de Bardelys!" he exclaimed, and a hundred questions werecontained in his astonished eyes. 

"Po' Cap de Dieu!" growled his cousin, "I was well advised, it seems, tohave brought you. "

"But, " Mironsac asked his cousin, as he took my hands in his own, "whydid you not tell me, Amedee, that it was to Monsieur le Marquis deBardelys that you were conducting me?"

"Would you have had me spoil so pleasant a surprise?" his cousindemanded. 

"Armand, " said I, "never was a man more welcome than are you. You arebut come in time to save my life. "

And then, in answer to his questions, I told him briefly of all that hadbefallen me since that night in Paris when the wager had been laid, andof how, through the cunning silence of Chatellerault, I was now upon thevery threshold of the scaffold. His wrath burst forth at that, andwhat he said of the Count did me good to hear. At last I stemmed hisinvective. 

"Let that be for the present, Mironsac, " I laughed. "You are here, andyou can thwart all Chatellerault's designs by witnessing to my identitybefore the Keeper of the Seals. "

And then of a sudden a doubt closed like a cold hand upon my brain. Iturned to Castelroux. 

"Mon Dieu!" I cried. "What if they were to deny me a fresh trial?"

"Deny it you!" he laughed. "They will not be asked to grant you one. "

"There will be no need, " added Mironsac. "I have but to tell the King--"

"But, my friend, " I exclaimed impatiently, "I am to die in the morning!"

"And the King shall be told to-day--now, at once. I will go to him. "

I stared askance a moment; then the thought of the uproar that I hadheard recurring to me, "Has the King arrived already?" I exclaimed. 

"Naturally, monsieur. How else do I come to be here? I am in HisMajesty's train. "

At that I grew again impatient. I thought of Roxalanne and of how shemust be suffering, and I bethought me that every moment Mironsac nowremained in my cell was another moment of torture for that poor child. So I urged him to be gone at once and carry news of my confinement toHis Majesty. He obeyed me, and I was left alone once more, to pace upand down in my narrow cell, a prey to an excitement such as I shouldhave thought I had outlived. 

At the end of a half-hour Castelroux returned alone. 

"Well?" I cried the moment the door opened, and without giving him somuch as time to enter. "What news?"

"Mironsac tells me that His Majesty is more overwrought than he has everseen him. You are to come to the Palace at once. I have an order herefrom the King. "

We went in a coach, and with all privacy, for he informed me that HisMajesty desired the affair to be kept secret, having ends of his own toserve thereby. 

I was left to wait some moments in an ante-chamber, whilst Castelrouxannounced me to the King; then I was ushered into a small apartment, furnished very sumptuously in crimson and gold, and evidently set apartfor His Majesty's studies or devotions. As I entered, Louis's back wastowards me. He was standing--a tall, spare figure in black--leaningagainst the frame of a window, his head supported on his raised left armand his eyes intent upon the gardens below. 

He remained so until Castelroux had withdrawn and the door had closedagain; then, turning suddenly, he confronted me, his back to the light, so that his face was in a shadow that heightened its gloom and wontedweariness. 

"Voila, Monsieur de Bardelys!" was his greeting, and unfriendly. "Seethe pass to which your disobedience of my commands has brought you. "

"I would submit, Sire, " I answered, "that I have been brought to it bythe incompetence of Your Majesty's judges and the ill-will of otherswhom Your Majesty honours with too great a confidence, rather than bythis same disobedience of mine. "

"The one and the other, perhaps, " he said more softly. "Though, afterall, they appear to have had a very keen nose for a traitor. Come, Bardelys, confess yourself that. "

"I? A traitor?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and laughed without any conspicuous mirth. 

"Is not a traitor one who runs counter to the wishes; of his King? Andare you not, therefore, a traitor, whether they call you Lesperon orBardelys? But there, " he ended more softly still, and flinging himselfinto a chair as he spoke, "I have been so wearied since you left me, Marcel. They have the best intentions in the world, these dullards, and some of them love me even; but they are tiresome all. EvenChatellerault, when he has a fancy for a jest--as in your caseperpetrates it with the grace of a bear, the sprightliness of anelephant. "

"Jest?" said I. 

"You find it no jest, Marcel? Pardieu, who shall blame you? He would bea man of unhealthy humour that could relish such a pleasantry as that ofbeing sentenced to death. But tell me of it. The whole story, Marcel. Ihave not heard a story worth the listening to since--since you left us. "

"Would it please you, Sire, to send for the Comte de Chatellerault ere Ibegin?" I asked. 

"Chatellerault? No, no. " He shook his head whimsically. "Chatelleraulthas had his laugh already, and, like the ill-mannered dog he is, he haskept it to himself. I think, Marcel, that it is our turn now. I havepurposely sent Chatellerault away that he may gain no notion of thecatastrophic jest we are preparing him in return. "

The words set me in the very best of humours, and to that it may be duethat presently, as I warmed to my narrative, I lent it a vigour thatdrew His Majesty out of his wonted apathy and listlessness. He leanedforward when I told him of my encounter with the dragoons at Mirepoix, and how first I had committed the false step of representing myself tobe Lesperon. 

Encouraged by his interest, I proceeded, and I told my story with asmuch piquancy as I was master of, repressing only those slight matterswhich might reflect upon Monsieur de Lavedan's loyalty, but otherwisedealing frankly with His Majesty, even down to the genuineness of thefeelings I entertained for Roxalanne. Often he laughed, more often stillhe nodded approvingly, in understanding and sympathy, whilst now andthen he purred his applause. But towards the end, when I came to thematter of the Tribunal of Toulouse, of how my trial was conducted, andof the part played in it by Chatellerault, his face grew set and hard. 

"It is true--all this that you tell me?" he cried harshly. 

"As true as the Gospels. If you deem an oath necessary, Sire, I swearby my honour that I have uttered nothing that is false, and that, inconnection with Monsieur de Chatellerault, even as I have suppressednothing, so also have I exaggerated nothing. "

"The dastard!" he snapped. "But we will avenge you, Marcel. Never fearit. "

Then the trend of his thoughts being changed, he smiled wearily. 

"By my faith, you may thank God every night of your worthless life thatI came so opportunely to Toulouse, and so may that fair child whosebeauty you have limned with such a lover's ardour. Nay, never redden, Marcel. What? At your age, and with such a heavy score of affaires toyour credit, has it been left for a simple Languedoc maiden to call ablush to your callous cheek? Ma foi, they say truly that love is a greatregenerator, a great rejuvenator!"

I made him no answer other than a sigh, for his words set me thinking, and with thought came a tempering of the gay humour that had pervadedme. Remarking this, and misreading it, he laughed outright. 

"There, Marcel, never fear. We will not be rigorous. You have won boththe maid and the wager, and, by the Mass, you shall enjoy both. "

"Helas, Sire, " I sighed again, "when the lady comes to know of thewager--"

"Waste no time in telling her, Marcel, and cast yourself upon her mercy. Nay, go not with so gloomy a face, my friend. When woman loves, she canbe very merciful; leastways, they tell me so. "

Then, his thoughts shifting ground once more, he grew stern again. 

"But first we have Chatellerault to deal with. What shall we do withhim?"

"It is for Your Majesty to decide. "

"For me?" he cried, his voice resuming the harshness that was never farfrom it. "I have a fancy for having gentlemen about me. Think you I willset eyes again upon that dastard? I am already resolved concerning him, but it entered my mind that it might please you to be the instrument ofthe law for me. "

"Me, Sire?"

"Aye, and why not? They say you can play a very deadly sword uponnecessity. This is an occasion that demands an exception from our edict. You have my sanction to send the Comte de Chatellerault a challenge. Andsee that you kill him, Bardelys!" he continued viciously. "For, by theMass, if you don't, I will! If he escapes your sword, or if he survivessuch hurt as you may do him, the headsman shall have him. Mordieu! is itfor nothing that I am called Louis the Just?"

I stood in thought for a moment. Then--

"If I do this thing, Sire, " I ventured, "the world will say of me that Idid so to escape the payment I had incurred. "

"Fool, you have not incurred it. When a man cheats, does he not forfeitall his rights?"

"That is very true. But the world--"

"Peste!" he snapped impatiently, "you are beginning to weary me, Marcel--and all the world does that so excellently that it needs notyour collaboration. Go your ways, man, and do as you elect. But take mysanction to slay this fellow Chatellerault, and I shall be the betterpleased if you avail yourself of it. He is lodged at the Auberge Royale, where probably you will find him at present. Now, go. I have morejustice to dispense in this rebellious province. "

I paused a moment. 

"Shall I not resume my duties near Your Majesty?"

He pondered a moment, then he smiled in his weary way. 

"It would please me to have you, for these creatures are so dismallydull, all of them. Je m'ennuie tellement, Marcel!" he sighed. "Ough!But, no, my friend, I do not doubt you would be as dull as any of themat present. A man in love is the weariest and most futile thing in allthis weary, futile world. What shall I do with your body what time yoursoul is at Lavedan? I doubt me you are in haste to get you there. So go, Marcel. Get you wed, and live out your amorous intoxication; marriage isthe best antidote. When that is done, return to me. "

"That will be never, Sire, " I answered slyly. 

"Say you so, Master Cupid Bardelys?" And he combed his beardreflectively. "Be not too sure. There have been other passions--aye, asgreat as yours--yet have they staled. But you waste my time. Go, Marcel;you are excused your duties by me for as long as your own affairs shallhold you elsewhere--for as long as you please. We are here upon a gloomybusiness--as you know. There are my cousin Montmorency and the othersto be dealt with, and we are holding no levees, countenancing no revels. But come to me when you will, and I will see you. Adieu!"

I murmured my thanks, and very deep and sincere were they. Then, havingkissed his hand, I left him. 

Louis XIII is a man who lacks not maligners. Of how history may come tospeak of him it is not mine to hazard. But this I can say, that I, at least, did never find him other than a just and kindly master, anupright gentleman, capricious at times and wilful, as must inevitablybe the case with such spoilt children of fortune as are princes, butof lofty ideals and high principles. It was his worst fault that he wasalways tired, and through that everlasting weariness he came to entrustthe determining of most affairs to His Eminence. Hence has it resultedthat the censure for many questionable acts of his reign, which were thework of my Lord Cardinal, has recoiled upon my august master's head. 

But to me, with all the faults that may be assigned him, he was everLouis the Just, and wherever his name be mentioned in my hearing, I baremy head. 

CHAPTER XIV. EAVESDROPPING

I turned it over in my mind, after I had left the King's presence, whether or not I should visit with my own hands upon Chatellerault thepunishment he had so fully earned. That I would have gone about the taskrejoicing you may readily imagine; but there was that accursed wager, and--to restrain me--the thought of how such an action might beconstrued into an evasion of its consequences. Better a thousand timesthat His Majesty should order his arrest and deal with him for hisattempted perversion of justice to the service of his own vile ends. Thecharge of having abused his trust as King's commissioner to the extentof seeking to do murder through the channels of the Tribunal was onethat could not fail to have fatal results for him--as, indeed, the Kinghad sworn. 

That was the position of affairs as it concerned Chatellerault, theworld, and me. But the position must also be considered as it concernedRoxalanne, and deeply, indeed, did I so consider it. Much ponderingbrought me again to the conclusion that until I had made the onlyatonement in my power, the only atonement that would leave me with cleanhands, I must not again approach her. 

Whether Chatellerault had cheated or not could not affect the questionas it concerned Mademoiselle and me. If I paid the wager--whether inhonour bound to do so or not--I might then go to her, impoverished, it is true, but at least with no suspicion attaching to my suit of anyulterior object other than that of winning Roxalanne herself. 

I could then make confession, and surely the fact that I had paid whereclearly there was no longer any need to pay must earn me forgiveness andafford proof of the sincerity of my passion. 

Upon such a course, then, did I decide, and, with this end in view, Itook my way towards the Auberge Royale, where His Majesty had told methat the Count was lodged. It was my purpose to show myself fully awareof the treacherous and unworthy part he had played at the very inceptionof the affair, and that if I chose to consider the wager lost it wasthat I might the more honestly win the lady. 

Upon inquiring at the hostelry for Monsieur de Chatellerault I wasinformed by the servant I addressed that he was within, but that at themoment he had a visitor. I replied that I would wait, and demanded aprivate room, since I desired to avoid meeting any Court acquaintanceswho might chance into the auberge before I had seen the Count. 

My apparel at the moment may not have been all that could have beendesired, but when a gentleman's rearing has taken place amid an army ofservitors to minister to his every wish, he is likely to have acquiredan air that is wont to win him obedience. With all celerity was Iushered into a small chamber, opening on the one side upon thecommon room, and being divided on the other by the thinnest of woodenpartitions from the adjoining apartment. 

Here, the landlord having left me, I disposed myself to wait, and here Idid a thing I would not have believed myself capable of doing, a thingI cannot think of without blushing to this very day. In short, I playedthe eavesdropper--I, Marcel Saint-Pol de Bardelys. Yet, if you who readand are nice-minded, shudder at this confession, or, worse still, shrugyour shoulders in contempt, with the reflection that such formerconduct of mine as I have avowed had already partly disposed you againstsurprise at this I do but ask that you measure my sin by my temptation, and think honestly whether in my position you might not yourselves havefallen. Aye--be you never so noble and high-principled--I make bold tosay that you had done no less, for the voice that penetrated to my earswas that of Roxalanne de Lavedan. 

"I sought an audience with the King, " she was saying, "but I could notgain his presence. They told me that he was holding no levees, and thathe refused to see any one not introduced by one of those having theprivate entree. "

"And so, " answered the voice of Chatellerault, in tones that wereperfectly colourless, "you come to me that I may present you to hisMajesty?"

"You have guessed it, Monsieur le Comte. You are the only gentlemanof His Majesty's suite, with whom I can claim acquaintance--howeverslight--and, moreover, it is well known how high you stand in his royalfavour. I was told that they that have a boon to crave can find nobetter sponsor. "

"Had you gone to the King, mademoiselle, " said he, "had you gainedaudience, he would have directed you to make your appeal to me. I am hisCommissioner in Languedoc, and the prisoners attainted with high treasonare my property. "

"Why then, monsieur, " she cried in an eager voice, that set my pulsesthrobbing, "you'll not deny me the boon I crave? You'll not deny me hislife?"

There was a short laugh from Chatellerault, and I could hear thedeliberate fall of his feet as he paced the chamber. 

"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, you must not overrate my powers. You mustnot forget that I am the slave of Justice. You may be asking more thanis in my power to grant. What can you advance to show that I should bejustified in proceeding as you wish?"

"Helas, monsieur, I can advance nothing but my prayers and the assurancethat a hideous mistake is being made. "

"What is your interest in this Monsieur de Lesperon?"

"He is not Monsieur de Lesperon, " she cried. 

"But, since you cannot tell me who he is, you must be content that wespeak of him at least as Lesperon, " said he, and I could imagine theevil grin with which he would accompany the words. 

The better that you may appreciate that which followed, let me hereimpart to you the suspicions which were already sinking into my mind, tobe changed later into absolute convictions touching the course the Countintended to pursue concerning me. The sudden arrival of the King hadthrown him into some measure of panic, and no longer daring to carry outhis plans concerning me, it was his object, I made no doubt, to set meat liberty that very evening. Ere he did so, however, and presuming uponmy ignorance of His Majesty's presence in Toulouse, Chatellerault wouldof a certainty have bound me down by solemn promise--making that promisethe price of my liberty and my life--to breathe no word of my captivityand trial. No doubt, his cunning brain would have advanced me plausibleand convincing reasons so to engage myself. 

He had not calculated upon Castelroux, nor that the King should alreadyhave heard of my detention. Now that Roxalanne came to entreat him to dothat which already he saw himself forced to do, he turned his attentionto the profit that he might derive from her interestedness on my behalf. I could guess also something of the jealous rage that must fill him atthis signal proof of my success with her, and already I anticipated, Ithink, the bargain that he would drive. 

"Tell me, then, " he was repeating, "what is your interest in thisgentleman?"

There was a silence. I could imagine her gentle face clouded with thetrouble that sprang from devising an' answer to that question; I couldpicture her innocent eyes cast down, her delicate cheeks pinked by somemeasure of shame, as at last, in a low, stifled voice, the four wordsbroke from her "I love him, monsieur. "

Ah, Dieu! To hear her confess it so! If yesternight it had stirred me tothe very depths of my poor, sinful soul to have her say so much to me, how infinitely more did it not affect me to overhear this frank avowalof it to another! And to think that she was undergoing all this to theend that she might save me!

From Chatellerault there came an impatient snort in answer, and his feetagain smote the floor as he resumed the pacing that for a moment he hadsuspended. Then followed a pause, a long silence, broken only by theCount's restless walking to and fro. At last "Why are you silent, monsieur?" she asked in a trembling voice. 

"Helas, mademoiselle, I can do nothing. I had feared that it might bethus with you; and, if I put the question, it was in the hope that I waswrong. "

"But he, monsieur?" she exclaimed in anguish. "What of him?"

"Believe me, mademoiselle, if it lay in my power I would save him werehe never so guilty, if only that I might spare you sorrow. "

He spoke with tender regret, foul hypocrite that he was!

"Oh, no, no!" she cried, and her voice was of horror and despair. "Youdo not mean that--" She stopped short; and then, after a pause, it wasthe Count who finished the sentence for her. 

"I mean, mademoiselle, that this Lesperon must die!"

You will marvel that I let her suffer so, that I did not break down thepartition with my hands and strike that supple gentleman dead at herfeet in atonement for the anguish he was causing her. But I had a mindto see how far he would drive this game he was engaged upon. 

Again there was a spell of silence, and at last, when Mademoisellespoke, I was amazed at the calm voice in which she addressed him, marvelling at the strength and courage of one so frail and childlike tobehold. 

"Is your determination, indeed, irrevocable, monsieur? If you have anypity, will you not at least let me bear my prayers and my tears to theKing?"

"It would avail you nothing. As I have said, the Languedoc rebels arein my hands. " He paused as if to let those words sink well into herunderstanding; then, "If I were to set him at liberty, mademoiselle, ifI were to spirit him out of prison in the night, bribing his jailers tokeep silent and binding him by oath to quit France at once and never tobetray me, I should be, myself, guilty of high treason. Thus alone couldthe thing be done, and you will see, mademoiselle, that by doing it Ishould be endangering my neck. "

There was an ineffable undercurrent of meaning in his words--anintangible suggestion that he might be bribed to do all this to which heso vaguely alluded. 

"I understand, monsieur, " she answered, choking--"I understand that itwould be too much to ask of you. "

"It would be much, mademoiselle, " he returned quickly, and his voice wasnow subdued and invested with an odd quiver. "But nothing that your lipsmight ask of me and that it might lie in the power of mortal man to do, would be too much!"

"You mean?" she cried, a catch in her breath. Had she guessed--as I, without sight of her face, had guessed--what was to follow? My gorge wasrising fast. I clenched my hands, and by an effort I restrained myselfto learn that I had guessed aright. 

"Some two months ago, " he said, "I journeyed to Lavedan, as you mayremember. I saw you, mademoiselle--for a brief while only, it istrue--and ever since I have seen nothing else but you. " His voice went ashade lower, and passion throbbed in his words. 

She, too, perceived it, for the grating of a chair informed me that shehad risen. 

"Not now, monsieur--not now!" she exclaimed. "This is not the season. Ibeg of you think of my desolation. "

"I do, mademoiselle, and I respect your grief, and, with all my heart, believe me, I share it. Yet this is the season, and if you have thisman's interests at heart, you will hear me to the end. "

Through all the imperiousness of his tone an odd note of respect--realor assumed--was sounding. 

"If you suffer, mademoiselle, believe me that I suffer also, and if Imake you suffer more by what I say, I beg that you will think how whatyou have said, how the very motive of your presence here, has made mesuffer. Do you know, mademoiselle, what it is to be torn by jealousy?Can you imagine it? If you can, you can imagine also something of thetorture I endured when you confessed to me that you loved this Lesperon, when you interceded for his life. Mademoiselle, I love you--with all myheart and soul I love you. I have loved you, I think, since the firstmoment of our meeting at Lavedan, and to win you there is no risk that Iwould not take, no danger that I would not brave. "

"Monsieur, I implore you--"

"Hear me out, mademoiselle!" he cried. Then in quieter voice heproceeded: "At present you love this Monsieur de Lesperon--"

"I shall always love him! Always, monsieur!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" he exclaimed, annoyed by her interruption. "If hewere to live, and you were to wed him and be daily in his company, Imake no doubt your love might endure. But if he were to die, or if hewere to pass into banishment and you were to see him no more, you wouldmourn him for a little while, and then--Helas! it is the way of men andwomen--time would heal first your sorrow, then your heart. "

"Never, monsieur--oh, never!"

"I am older, child, than you are. I know. At present you are anxiousto save his life anxious because you love him, and also because youbetrayed him, and you would not have his death upon your conscience. "He paused a moment; then raising his voice, "Mademoiselle, " said he, "Ioffer you your lover's life. "

"Monsieur, monsieur!" cried the poor child, "I knew you were good! Iknew--"

"A moment! Do not misapprehend me. I do not say that I give it--I offerit. "

"But the difference?"

"That if you would have it, mademoiselle, you must buy it. I have saidthat for you I would brave all dangers. To save your lover, I bravethe scaffold. If I am betrayed, or if the story transpire, my headwill assuredly fall in the place of Lesperon's. This I will risk, mademoiselle--I will do it gladly--if you will promise to become my wifewhen it is done. "

There was a moan from Roxalanne, then silence; then--"Oh, monsieur, youare pitiless! What bargain is this that you offer me?"

"A fair one, surely, " said that son of hell--"a very fair one. The riskof my life against your hand in marriage. "

"If you--if you truly loved me as you say, monsieur, " she reasoned, "youwould serve me without asking guerdon. "

"In any other thing I would. But is it fair to ask a man who is rackedby love of you to place another in your arms, and that at the risk ofhis own life? Ah, mademoiselle, I am but a man, and I am subject tohuman weaknesses. If you will consent, this Lesperon shall go free, butyou must see him no more; and I will carry my consideration so far asto give you six months in which to overcome your sorrow, ere I presentmyself to you again to urge my suit. "

"And if I refuse, monsieur?"

He sighed. 

"To the value which I set upon my life you must add my very humanjealousy. From such a combination what can you hope for?"

"You mean, in short, that he must die?"

"To-morrow, " was that infernal cheat's laconic answer. 

They were silent a little while, then she fell a-sobbing. 

"Be pitiful, monsieur! Have mercy if you, indeed, love me. Oh, he mustnot die! I cannot, I dare not, let him die! Save him, monsieur, and Iwill pray for you every night of my life; I will pray for you to ourHoly Mother as I am now praying to you for him. "

Lived there the man to resist that innocent, devout appeal? Lived thereone who in answer to such gentle words of love and grief could obtrudehis own coarse passions? It seems there did, for all he answered was"You know the price, child. "

"And God pity me! I must pay it. I must, for if he dies I shall havehis blood upon my conscience!" Then she checked her grief, and her voicegrew almost stern in the restraint she set upon herself. "If I give youmy promise to wed you hereafter--say in six months' time--what proofwill you afford me that he who is detained under the name of Lesperonshall go free?"

I caught the sound of something very like a gasp from the Count. 

"Remain in Toulouse until to-morrow, and to-night ere he departs heshall come to take his leave of you. Are you content?"

"Be it so, monsieur, " she answered. 

Then at last I leapt to my feet. I could endure no more. You may marvelthat I had had the heart to endure so much, and to have so let hersuffer that I might satisfy myself how far this scoundrel Chatelleraultwould drive his trickster's bargain. 

A more impetuous man would have beaten down the partition, or shoutedto her through it the consolation that Chatellerault's bargain was nobargain at all, since I was already at large. And that is where a moreimpetuous man would have acted upon instinct more wisely than did I uponreason. Instead, I opened the door, and, crossing the common room, Iflung myself down a passage that I thought must lead to the chamber inwhich they were closeted. But in this I was at fault, and ere I had comeupon a waiter and been redirected some precious moments were lost. He led me back through the common room to a door opening upon anothercorridor. He pushed it wide, and I came suddenly face to face withChatellerault, still flushed from his recent contest. 

"You here!" he gasped, his jaw falling, and his cheeks turning pale, as well they might; for all that he could not dream I had overheard hisbargaining. 

"We will go back, if you please, Monsieur le Comte. " said I. 

"Back where?" he asked stupidly. 

"Back to Mademoiselle. Back to the room you have just quitted. " And nonetoo gently I pushed him into the corridor again, and so, in the gloom, Imissed the expression of his face. 

"She is not there, " said he. 

I laughed shortly. 

"Nevertheless, we will go back, " I insisted. 

And so I had my way, and we gained the room where his infamous traffichad been held. Yet for once he spoke the truth. She was no longer there. 

"Where is she?" I demanded angrily. 

"Gone, " he answered; and when I protested that I had not met her, "Youwould not have a lady go by way of the public room, would you?" hedemanded insolently. "She left by the side door into the courtyard. "

"That being so, Monsieur le Comte, " said I quietly, "I will have alittle talk with you before going after her. " And I carefully closed thedoor. 

CHAPTER XV. MONSIEUR DE CHATELLERAULT IS ANGRY

Within the room Chatellerault and I faced each other in silence. And howvastly changed were the circumstances since our last meeting!

The disorder that had stamped itself upon his countenance when first hehad beheld me still prevailed. There was a lowering, sullen look in hiseyes and a certain displacement of their symmetry which was peculiar tothem when troubled. 

Although a cunning plotter and a scheming intriguer in his owninterests, Chatellerault, as I have said before, was not by nature aquick man. His wits worked slowly, and he needed leisure to considera situation and his actions therein ere he was in a position to engagewith it. 

"Monsieur le Comte, " quoth I ironically, "I make you my compliments uponyour astuteness and the depth of your schemes, and my condolences uponthe little accident owing to which I am here, and in consequence ofwhich your pretty plans are likely to miscarry. "

He threw back his great head like a horse that feels the curb, andhis smouldering eyes looked up at me balefully. Then his sensuous lipsparted in scorn. 

"How much do you know?" he demanded with sullen contempt. 

"I have been in that room for the half of an hour, " I answered, rappingthe partition with my knuckles. 

"The dividing wall, as you will observe, is thin, and I heard everythingthat passed between you and Mademoiselle de Lavedan. "

"So that Bardelys, known as the Magnificent; Bardelys the mirror ofchivalry; Bardelys the arbiter elegantiarum of the Court of France, isno better, it seems, than a vulgar spy. "

If he sought by that word to anger me, he failed. 

"Lord Count, " I answered him very quietly, "you are of an age to knowthat the truth alone has power to wound. I was in that room by accident, and when the first words of your conversation reached me I had not beenhuman had I not remained and strained my ears to catch every syllableyou uttered. For the rest, let me ask you, my dear Chatellerault, sincewhen have you become so nice that you dare cast it at a man that he hasbeen eavesdropping?"

"You are obscure, monsieur. What is it that you suggest?"

"I am signifying that when a man stands unmasked for a cheat, a liar, and a thief, his own character should give him concern enough torestrain him from strictures upon that of another. "

A red flush showed through the tan of his skin, then faded and left himlivid--a very evil sight, as God lives. He flung his heavily-featheredhat upon the table, and carried his hand to his hilt. 

"God's blood!" he cried. "You shall answer me for this. "

I shook my head and smiled; but I made no sign of drawing. 

"Monsieur, we must talk a while. I think that you had better. "

He raised his sullen eyes to mine. Perhaps the earnest impressiveness ofmy tones prevailed. Be that as it may, his half-drawn sword was thrustback with a click, and "What have you to say?" he asked. 

"Be seated. " I motioned him to a chair by the table and when he hadtaken it I sat down opposite to him. Taking up a quill, I dipped it inthe ink-horn that stood by, and drew towards me a sheet of paper. 

"When you lured me into the wager touching Mademoiselle de Lavedan, "said I calmly, "you did so, counting upon certain circumstances, ofwhich you alone had knowledge, that should render impossible the urgingof my suit. That, Monsieur le Comte, was undeniably the action of acheat. Was it not?"

"Damnation!" he roared, and would have risen, but, my hand upon his arm, I restrained him and pressed him back into his chair. 

"By a sequence of fortuitous circumstances, " I pursued, "it becamepossible for me to circumvent the obstacle upon which you had based yourcalculations. Those same circumstances led later to my being arrested inerror and in place of another man. You discovered how I had contravenedthe influence upon which you counted; you trembled to see how theunexpected had befriended me, and you began to fear for your wager. 

"What did you do? Seeing me arraigned before you in your quality asKing's Commissioner, you pretended to no knowledge of me; you becameblind to my being any but Lesperon the rebel, and you sentenced me todeath in his place, so that being thus definitely removed I should beunable to carry out my undertaking, and my lands should consequentlypass into your possession. That, monsieur, was at once the act of athief and a murderer. Wait, monsieur; restrain yourself until I shallhave done. To-day again fortune comes to my rescue. Again you see meslipping from your grasp, and you are in despair. Then, in the eleventhhour, Mademoiselle de Lavedan comes to you to plead for my life. By thatact she gives you the most ample proof that your wager is lost. Whatwould a gentleman, a man of honour, have done under these circumstances?What did you do? You seized that last chance; you turned it to the bestaccount; you made this poor girl buy something from you; you made hersell herself to you for nothing--pretending that your nothing was asomething of great value. What term shall we apply to that? To say thatyou cheated again seems hardly adequate. "

"By God, Bardelys!"

"Wait!" I thundered, looking him straight between the eyes, so thatagain he sank back cowed. Then resuming the calm with which hitherto Ihad addressed him, "Your cupidity, " said I, "your greed for the estatesof Bardelys, and your jealousy and thirst to see me impoverished and soousted from my position at Court, to leave you supreme in His Majesty'sfavour, have put you to strange shifts for a gentleman, Chatellerault. Yet, wait. "

And, dipping my pen in the ink-horn, I began to write. I was consciousof his eyes upon me, and I could imagine his surmisings and bewilderedspeculations as my pen scratched rapidly across the paper. In a fewmoments it was done, and I tossed the pen aside. I took up the sandbox. 

"When a man cheats, Monsieur le Comte, and is detected, he is invariablyadjudged the loser of his stakes. On that count alone everything thatyou have is now mine by rights. " Again I had to quell an interruption. "But if we wave that point, and proceed upon the supposition that youhave dealt fairly and honourably with me, why, then, monsieur, youhave still sufficient evidence--the word of Mademoiselle, herself, in fact--that I have won my wager. And so, if we take this, the mostlenient view of the case"--I paused to sprinkle the sand over mywriting--"your estates are still lost to you, and pass to be myproperty. "

"Do they, by God?" he roared, unable longer to restrain himself, andleaping to his feet. "You have done, have you not? You have said allthat you can call to mind? You have flung insults and epithets at meenough to earn the cutting of a dozen throats. You have dubbed me cheatand thief"--he choked in his passion--"until you have had your fill--isit not so? Now, listen to me, Master Bardelys, master spy, masterbuffoon, master masquerader! What manner of proceeding was yours to goto Lavedan under a false name? How call you that? Was that, perhaps, notcheating?"

"No, monsieur, it was not, " I answered quietly. "It was in the terms ofyour challenge that I was free to go to Lavedan in what guise I listed, employing what wiles I pleased. But let that be, " I ended, and, creasingthe paper, I poured the sand back into the box, and dusted the document. "The point is hardly worth discussing at this time of day. If not oneway, why, then, in another, your wager is lost. "

"Is it?" He set his arms akimbo and eyed me derisively, his thick-setframe planted squarely before me. "You are satisfied that it is so?Quite satisfied, eh?" He leered in my face. "Why, then, Monsieur leMarquis, we will see whether a few inches of steel will win it back forme. " And once more his hand flew to his hilt. 

Rising, I flung the document I had accomplished upon the table. "Glancefirst at that, " said I. 

He stopped to look at me in inquiry, my manner sowing so great acuriosity in him that his passion was all scattered before it. Thenhe stepped up to the table and lifted the paper. As he read, his handshook, amazement dilated his eyes and furrowed his brow. 

"What--what does it signify?" he gasped. 

"It signifies that, although fully conscious of having won, I preferto acknowledge that I have lost. I make over to you thus my estates ofBardelys, because, monsieur, I have come to realize that that wager wasan infamous one--one in which a gentleman should have had no part--andthe only atonement I can make to myself, my honour, and the lady whom weinsulted--is that. "

"I do not understand, " he complained. 

"I apprehend your difficulty, Comte. The point is a nice one. Butunderstand at least that my Picardy estates are yours. Only, monsieur, you will be well advised to make your will forthwith, for you are notdestined, yourself, to enjoy them. "

He looked at me, his glance charged with inquiry. 

"His Majesty, " I continued, in answer to his glance, "is ordering yourarrest for betraying the trust he had reposed in you and for pervertingthe ends of justice to do your own private murdering. "

"Mon Dieu!" he cried, falling of a sudden unto a most pitiful affright. "The King knows?"

"Knows?" I laughed. "In the excitement of these other matters you haveforgotten to ask how I come to be at liberty. I have been to the King, monsieur, and I have told him what has taken place here at Toulouse, andhow I was to have gone to the block tomorrow!"

"Scelerat!" he cried. "You have ruined me!" Rage and grief were blent inhis accents. He stood before me, livid of face and with hands clenchingand unclenching at his sides. 

"Did you expect me to keep such a matter silent? Even had I been soinclined it had not been easy, for His Majesty had questions to askme. From what the King said, monsieur, you may count upon mounting thescaffold in my stead. So be advised, and make your will without delay, if you would have your heirs enjoy my Picardy chateau. "

I have seen terror and anger distort men's countenances, but neverhave I seen aught to compare with the disorder of Chatellerault atthat moment. He stamped and raved and fumed. He poured forth athousand ordures of speech in his frenzy; he heaped insults upon me andimprecations upon the King, whose lapdog he pronounced me. His short, stout frame was quivering with passion and fear, his broad facedistorted by his hideous grimaces of rage. And then, while yet hisravings were in full flow, the door opened, and in stepped the airyChevalier de Saint-Eustache. 

He stood still, amazed, beneath the lintel--marvelling to see all thisanger, and abashed at beholding me. His sudden appearance reminded methat I had last seen him at Grenade in the Count's company, on the dayof my arrest. The surprise it had occasioned me now returned upon seeinghim so obviously and intimately seeking Chatellerault. 

The Count turned on him in his anger. 

"Well, popinjay?" he roared. "What do you want with me?"

"Monsieur le Comte!" cried the other, in blent indignation and reproach. 

"You will perceive that you are come inopportunely, " I put in. "Monsieurde Chatellerault is not quite himself. "

But my speech again drew his attention to my presence; and the wondergrew in his eyes at finding me there, for to him I was still Lesperonthe rebel, and he marvelled naturally that I should be at large. 

Then in the corridor there was a sound of steps and voices, and as Iturned I beheld in the doorway, behind Saint-Eustache, the facesof Castelroux, Mironsac, and my old acquaintance, the babbling, irresponsible buffoon, La Fosse. From Mironsac he had heard of mypresence in Toulouse, and, piloted by Castelroux, they were both come toseek me out. I'll swear it was not thus they had looked to find me. 

They pushed their way into the room, impelling Saint-Eustacheforward, and there were greetings exchanged and felicitations, whilstChatellerault, curbing his disorder, drew the Chevalier into a corner ofthe room, and stood there listening to him. 

At length I heard the Count exclaim--

"Do as you please, Chevalier. If you have interests of your own toserve, serve them. As for myself--I am past being interested. "

"But why, monsieur?" the chevalier inquired. 

"Why?" echoed Chatellerault, his ferocity welling up again. Then, swinging round, he came straight at me, as a bull makes a charge. 

"Monsieur de Bardelys!" he blazed. 

"Bardelys!" gasped Saint-Eustache in the background. 

"What now?" I inquired coldly, turning from my friends. 

"All that you said may be true, and I may be doomed, but I swear beforeGod that you shall not go unpunished. "

"I think, monsieur, that you run a grave risk of perjuring yourself!" Ilaughed. 

"You shall render me satisfaction ere we part!" he cried. 

"If you do not deem that paper satisfaction enough, then, monsieur, forgive me, but your greed transcends all possibility of being eversatisfied. "

"The devil take your paper and your estates! What shall they profit mewhen I am dead?"

"They may profit your heirs, " I suggested. 

"How shall that profit me?"

"That is a riddle that I cannot pretend to elucidate. "

"You laugh, you knave!" he snorted. Then, with an abrupt change ofmanner, "You do not lack for friends, " said he. "Beg one of thesegentlemen to act for you, and if you are a man of honour let us step outinto the yard and settle the matter. "

I shook my head. 

"I am so much a man of honour as to be careful with whom I cross steel. I prefer to leave you to His Majesty's vengeance; his headsman may beless particular than am I. No, monsieur, on the whole, I do not thinkthat I can fight you. "

His face grew a shade paler. It became grey; the jaw was set, and theeyes were more out of symmetry than I had ever seen them. Their glanceapproached what is known in Italy as the mal'occhio, and to protectthemselves against the baneful influences of which men carry charms. Amoment he stood so, eyeing me. Then, coming a step nearer--

 "You do not think that you can fight me, eh? You do not think it?Pardieu! How shall I make you change your mind? To the insult of wordsyou appear impervious. You imagine your courage above dispute because bya lucky accident you killed La Vertoile some years ago and the fame ofit has attached to you. " In the intensity of his anger he was breathingheavily, like a man overburdened. "You have been living ever since bythe reputation which that accident gave you. Let us see if you can dieby it, Monsieur de Bardelys. " And, leaning forward, he struck me onthe breast, so suddenly and so powerfully--for he was a man of abnormalstrength--that I must have fallen but that La Fosse caught me in hisarms. 

"Kill him!" lisped the classic-minded fool. "Play Theseus to this bullof Marathon. "

Chatellerault stood back, his hands on his hips, his head inclinedtowards his right shoulder, and an insolent leer of expectancy upon hisface. 

"Will that resolve you?" he sneered. 

"I will meet you, " I answered, when I had recovered breath. "But I swearthat I shall not help you to escape the headsman. "

He laughed harshly. 

"Do I not know it?" he mocked. "How shall killing you help me to escape?Come, messieurs, sortons. At once!"

"Sor, " I answered shortly; and thereupon we crowded from the room, andwent pele-mele down the passage to the courtyard at the back. 

CHAPTER XVI. SWORDS!

La Fosse led the way with me, his arm through mine, swearing thathe would be my second. He had such a stomach for a fight, had thisirresponsible, irrepressible rhymester, that it mounted to the heightsof passion with him, and when I mentioned, in answer to a hint droppedin connection with the edict, that I had the King's sanction for thiscombat, he was nearly mad with joy. 

"Blood of La Fosse!" was his oath. "The honour to stand by you shall bemine, my Bardelys! You owe it me, for am I not in part to blame forall this ado? Nay, you'll not deny me. That gentleman yonder, withthe wild-cat moustaches and a name like a Gascon oath--that cousin ofMironsac's, I mean--has the flair of a fight in his nostrils, and acraving to be in it. But you'll grant me the honour, will you not?Pardieu! It will earn me a place in history. "

"Or the graveyard, " quoth I, by way of cooling his ardour. 

"Peste! What an augury!" Then, with a laugh: "But, " he added, indicatingSaint-Eustache, "that long, lean saint--I forget of what he ispatron--hardly wears a murderous air. "

To win peace from him, I promised that he should stand by me. But thefavour lost much of its value in his eyes when presently I added thatI did not wish the seconds to engage, since the matter was of so verypersonal a character. 

Mironsac and Castelroux, assisted by Saint-Eustache, closed the heavyportecochere, and so shut us in from the observation of passers-by. Theclanging of those gates brought the landlord and a couple of his knaves, and we were subjected to the prayers and intercessions, to the stormingsand ravings that are ever the prelude of a stable-yard fight, but whichinvariably end, as these ended, in the landlord's withdrawal to run forhelp to the nearest corps-de-garde. 

"Now, my myrmillones, " cried La Fosse in bloodthirsty jubilation, "towork before the host returns. "

"Po' Cap de Dieu!" growled Castelroux, "is this a time for jests, masterjoker?"

"Jests?" I heard him retorting, as he assisted me to doff my doublet. "Do I jest? Diable! you Gascons are a slow-witted folk! I have a tastefor allegory, my friend, but that never yet was accounted so low a thingas jesting. "

At last we were ready, and I shifted the whole of my attention to theshort, powerful figure of Chatellerault as he advanced upon me, strippedto the waist, his face set and his eyes full of stern resolve. Despitehis low stature, and the breadth of frame which argue sluggish motion, there was something very formidable about the Count. His bared arms weregreat masses of muscular flesh, and if his wrist were but half assupple as it looked powerful, that alone should render him a dangerousantagonist. 

Yet I had no qualm of fear, no doubt, even, touching the issue. Not thatI was an habitual ferrailleur. As I have indicated, I had fought but oneman in all my life. Nor yet am I of those who are said to know no fearunder any circumstances. Such men are not truly brave; they are stupidand unimaginative, in proof of which I will advance the fact that youmay incite a timid man to deeds of reckless valour by drugging him withwine. But this is by the way. It may be that the very regular fencingpractice that in Paris I was wont to take may so have ordered my mindthat the fact of meeting unbaited steel had little power to move me. 

Be that as it may, I engaged the Count without a tremor either of theflesh or of the spirit. I was resolved to wait and let him open theplay, that I might have an opportunity of measuring his power and seeinghow best I might dispose of him. I was determined to do him no hurt, and to leave him, as I had sworn, to the headsman; and so, either bypressure or by seizure, it was my aim to disarm him. 

But on his side also he entered upon the duel with all caution andwariness. From his rage I had hoped for a wild, angry rush that shouldafford me an easy opportunity of gaining my ends with him. Not so, however. Now that he came with steel to defend his life and to seekmine, he appeared to have realized the importance of having keen wits toguide his hand; and so he put his anger from him, and emerged calm anddetermined from his whilom disorder. 

Some preliminary passes we made from the first engagement in the linesof tierce, each playing warily for an opening, yet neither of us givingground or betraying haste or excitement. Now his blade slithered onmine with a ceaseless tremor; his eyes watched mine from under loweringbrows, and with knees bent he crouched like a cat making ready for aspring. Then it came. Sudden as lightning was his disengage; hedarted under my guard, then over it, then back and under it again, andstretching out in the lunge--his double-feint completed--he straightenedhis arm to drive home the botte. 

But with a flying point I cleared his blade out of the line of mybody. There had been two sharp tinkles of our meeting swords, and nowChatellerault stood at his fullest stretch, the half of his steel pastand behind me, for just a fraction of time completely at my mercy. YetI was content to stand, and never move my blade from his until he hadrecovered and we were back in our first position once again. 

I heard the deep bass of Castelroux's "Mordieux!" the sharp gasp offear from Saint-Eustache, who already in imagination beheld his friendstretched lifeless on the ground, and the cry of mortification from LaFosse as the Count recovered. But I heeded these things little. AsI have said, to kill the Count was not my object. It had been wise, perhaps, in Chatellerault to have appreciated that fact; but he did not. From the manner in which he now proceeded to press me, I was assuredthat he set his having recovered guard to slowness on my part, neverthinking of the speed that had been necessary to win myself such anopening as I had obtained. 

My failure to run him through in that moment of jeopardy inspiredhim with a contempt of my swordplay. This he now made plain by therecklessness with which he fenced, in his haste to have done ere wemight chance to be interrupted. Of this recklessness I suddenly availedmyself to make an attempt at disarming him. I turned aside a viciousthrust by a close--a dangerously close--parry, and whilst in the act ofencircling his blade I sought by pressure to carry it out of his hand. Iwas within an ace of succeeding, yet he avoided me, and doubled back. 

He realized then, perhaps, that I was not quite so contemptible anantagonist as he had been imagining, and he went back to his earlier andmore cautious tactics. Then I changed my plans. I simulated an attack, and drove him hard for some moments. Strong he was, but there wereadvantages of reach and suppleness with me, and even these advantagesapart, had I aimed at his life, I could have made short work of him. Butthe game I played was fraught with perils to myself, and once I wasin deadly danger, and as near death from the sword as a man may go andlive. My attack had lured him, as I desired that it should, into makinga riposte. He did so, and as his blade twisted round mine and cameslithering at me, I again carried it off by encircling it, and again Iexerted pressure to deprive him of it. But this time I was farther fromsuccess than before. He laughed at the attempt, as with a suddennessthat I had been far from expecting he disengaged again, and his pointdarted like a snake upwards at my throat. 

I parried that thrust, but I only parried it when it was within somethree inches of my neck, and even as I turned it aside it missed me asnarrowly as it might without tearing my skin. The imminence of theperil had been such that, as we mutually recovered, I found a cold sweatbathing me. 

After that, I resolved to abandon the attempt to disarm him by pressure, and I turned my attention to drawing him into a position that might lenditself to seizure. But even as I was making up my mind to this--we wereengaged in sixte at the time--I saw a sudden chance. His point was heldlow while he watched me; so low that his arm was uncovered and my pointwas in line with it. To see the opening, to estimate it, and to take myresolve was all the work of a fraction of a second. The next instant Ihad straightened my elbow, my blade shot out in a lightning stroke andtransfixed his sword-arm. 

There was a yell of pain, followed by a deep growl of fury, as, woundedbut not vanquished, the enraged Count caught his falling sword in hisleft hand, and whilst my own blade was held tight in the bone of hisright arm, he sought to run me through. I leapt quickly aside, and then, before he could renew the attempt, my friends had fallen upon him andwrenched his sword from his hand and mine from his arm. 

It would ill have become me to taunt a man in his sorry condition, elsemight I now have explained to him what I had meant when I had promisedto leave him for the headsman even though I did consent to fight him. 

Mironsac, Castelroux, and La Fosse stood babbling around me, but I paidno heed either to Castelroux's patois or to La Fosse's misquotations ofclassic authors. The combat had been protracted, and the methods I hadpursued had been of a very exhausting nature. I leaned now against theporte-cochere, and mopped myself vigorously. Then Saint-Eustache, whowas engaged in binding up his principal's arm, called to La Fosse. 

I followed my second with my eyes as he went across to Chatellerault. The Count stood white, his lips compressed, no doubt from the pain hisarm was causing him. Then his voice floated across to me as he addressedLa Fosse. 

"You will do me the favour, monsieur, to inform your friend that thiswas no first blood combat, but one a outrance. I fence as well with myleft arm as with my right, and if Monsieur de Bardelys will do me thehonour to engage again, I shall esteem it. "

La Fosse bowed and came over with the message that already we had heard. 

"I fought, " said I in answer, "in a spirit very different from that bywhich Monsieur de Chatellerault appears to have been actuated. He madeit incumbent upon me to afford proof of my courage. That proof I haveafforded; I decline to do more. Moreover, as Monsieur de Chatelleraulthimself must perceive, the light is failing us, and in a few minutes itwill be too dark for sword-play. "

"In a few minutes there will be need for none, monsieur, " shoutedChatellerault, to save time. He was boastful to the end. 

"Here, monsieur, in any case, come those who will resolve the question, "I answered, pointing to the door of the inn. 

As I spoke, the landlord stepped into the yard, followed by an officerand a half-dozen soldiers. These were no ordinary keepers of the peace, but musketeers of the guard, and at sight of them I knew that theirbusiness was not to interrupt a duel, but to arrest my erstwhileopponent upon a much graver charge. 

The officer advanced straight to Chatellerault. 

"In the King's name, Monsieur le Comte, " said he. "I demand your sword. "

It may be that at bottom I was still a man of soft heart, unfeelingcynic though they accounted me; for upon remarking the misery andgloom that spread upon Chatellerault's face I was sorry for him, notwithstanding the much that he had schemed against me. Of whathis fate would be he could have no shadow of doubt. He knew--nonebetter--how truly the King loved me, and how he would punish suchan attempt as had been made upon my life, to say nothing of theprostitution of justice of which he had been guilty, and for which alonehe had earned the penalty of death. 

He stood a moment with bent head, the pain of his arm possibly forgottenin the agony of his spirit. Then, straightening himself suddenly, witha proud, half scornful air, he looked the officer straight between theeyes. 

"You desire my sword, monsieur?" he inquired. 

The musketeer bowed respectfully. 

"Saint-Eustache, will you do me the favour to give it to me?"

And while the Chevalier picked up the rapier from the ground where ithad been flung, that man waited with an outward calm for which at themoment I admired him, as we must ever admire a tranquil bearing in onesmitten by a great adversity. And than this I can conceive fewgreater. He had played for much, and he had lost everything. Ignominy, degradation, and the block were all that impended for him in this world, and they were very imminent. 

He took the sword from the Chevalier. He held it for a second by thehilt, like one in thought, like one who is resolving upon something, whilst the musketeer awaited his good pleasure with that deference whichall gentle minds must accord to the unfortunate. 

Still holding his rapier, he raised his eyes for a second and let themrest on me with a grim malevolence. Then he uttered a short laugh, and, shrugging his shoulders, he transferred his grip to the blade, as ifabout to offer the hilt to the officer. Holding it so, halfway betwixtpoint and quillons, he stepped suddenly back, and before any there couldput forth a hand to stay him, he had set the pummel on the ground andthe point at his breast, and so dropped upon it and impaled himself. 

A cry went up from every throat, and we sprang towards him. He rolledover on his side, and with a grin of exquisite pain, yet in words ofunconquerable derision "You may have my sword now, Monsieur l'Officier, "he said, and sank back, swooning. 

With an oath, the musketeer stepped forward. He obeyed Chatellerault tothe letter, by kneeling beside him and carefully withdrawing the sword. Then he ordered a couple of his men to take up the body. 

"Is he dead?" asked some one; and some one else replied, "Not yet, buthe soon will be. "

Two of the musketeers bore him into the inn and laid him on the floor ofthe very room in which, an hour or so ago, he had driven a bargain withRoxalanne. A cloak rolled into a pillow was thrust under his head, and there we left him in charge of his captors, the landlord, Saint-Eustache, and La Fosse the latter inspired, I doubt not, by thatmorbidity which is so often a feature of the poetic mind, and whichimpelled him now to witness the death-agony of my Lord of Chatellerault. 

Myself, having resumed my garments, I disposed myself to repair at onceto the Hotel de l'Epee, there to seek Roxalanne, that I might set herfears and sorrows at rest, and that I might at last make my confession. 

As we stepped out into the street, where the dusk was now thickening, I turned to Castelroux to inquire how Saint-Eustache came intoChatellerault's company. 

"He is of the family of the Iscariot, I should opine, " answered theGascon. "As soon as he had news that Chatellerault was come to Languedocas the King's Commissioner, he repaired to him to offer his servicesin the work of bringing rebels to justice. He urged that his thoroughacquaintance with the province should render him of value to the King, as also that he had had particular opportunities of becoming acquaintedwith many treasonable dealings on the part of men whom the State was farfrom suspecting. "

"Mort Dieu!" I cried, "I had suspected something of such a nature. Youdo well to call him of the family of the Iscariot. He is more so thanyou imagine: I have knowledge of this--ample knowledge. He wasuntil lately a rebel himself, and himself a follower of Gastond'Orleans--though of a lukewarm quality. What reasons have driven him tosuch work, do you know?"

"The same reason that impelled his forefather, Judas of old. The desireto enrich himself. For every hitherto unsuspected rebel that shall bebrought to justice and whose treason shall be proven by his agency, heclaims the half of that rebel's confiscated estates. "

"Diable!" I exclaimed. "And does the Keeper of the Seals sanction this?"

"Sanction it? Saint-Eustache holds a commission, has a free hand and acompany of horse to follow him in his rebel-hunting. "

"Has he done much so far?" was my next question. 

"He has reduced half a dozen noblemen and their families. The wealth hemust thereby have amassed should be very considerable, indeed. "

"To-morrow, Castelroux, I will see the King in connection with thispretty gentleman, and not only shall we find him a dungeon deep anddank, but we shall see that he disgorges his blood-money. "

"If you can prove his treason you will be doing blessed work, " returnedCastelroux. "Until tomorrow, then, for here is the Hotel de l'Epee. "

From the broad doorway of an imposing building a warm glow of lightissued out and spread itself fanwise across the ill-paved street. In this--like bats about a lamp--flitted the black figures of gapingurchins and other stragglers, and into this I now passed, having takenleave of my companions. 

I mounted the steps and I was about to cross the threshold, whensuddenly above a burst of laughter that greeted my ears I caught thesound of a singularly familiar voice. This seemed raised at present toaddress such company as might be within. One moment of doubt had I--forit was a month since last I had heard those soft, unctuous accents. Then I was assured that the voice I heard was, indeed, the voice ofmy steward Ganymede. Castelroux's messenger had found him at last, itseemed, and had brought him to Toulouse. 

I was moved to spring into the room and greet that old retainer forwhom, despite the gross and sensuous ways that with advancing years wereclaiming him more and more, I had a deep attachment. But even as I wason the point of entering, not only his voice, but the very words thathe was uttering floated out to my ears, and they were of a quality thatheld me there to play the hidden listener for the second time in my lifein one and the same day. 

CHAPTER XVII. THE BABBLING OF GANYMEDE

Never until that hour, as I stood in the porch of the Hotel de l'Epee, hearkening to my henchman's narrative and to the bursts of laughterwhich ever and anon it provoked from his numerous listeners, had Idreamed of the raconteur talents which Rodenard might boast. Yet wasI very far from being appreciative now that I discovered them, for thestory that he told was of how one Marcel Saint-Pol, Marquis de Bardelys, had laid a wager with the Comte de Chatellerault that he would woo andwin Mademoiselle de Lavedan to wife within three months. Nor did hestop there. Rodenard, it would seem, was well informed; he had drawnall knowledge of the state of things from Castelroux's messenger, andlater--I know not from whom--at Toulouse, since his arrival. 

He regaled the company, therefore, with a recital of our finding thedying Lesperon, and of how I had gone off alone, and evidently assumedthe name and role of that proscribed rebel, and thus conducted mywooing under sympathy inspiring circumstances at Lavedan. Then came, heannounced, the very cream of the jest, when I was arrested as Lesperonand brought to Toulouse and to trial in Lesperon's stead; he told themhow I had been sentenced to death in the other man's place, and heassured them that I would certainly have been beheaded upon the morrowbut that news had been borne to him--Rodenard--of my plight, and he wascome to deliver me. 

My first impulse upon hearing him tell of the wager had been to strideinto the room and silence him by my coming. That I did not obey thatimpulse was something that presently I was very bitterly to regret. Howit came that I did not I scarcely know. I was tempted, perhaps, to seehow far this henchman whom for years I had trusted was unworthy ofthat trust. And so, there in the porch, I stayed until he had ended bytelling the company that he was on his way to inform the King--who bygreat good chance was that day arrived in Toulouse--of the mistake thathad been made, and thus obtain my immediate enlargement and earn myundying gratitude. 

Again I was on the point of entering to administer a very stern reproofto that talkative rogue, when of a sudden there was a commotion within. I caught a scraping of chairs, a dropping of voices, and then suddenly Ifound myself confronted by Roxalanne de Lavedan herself, issuing with apage and a woman in attendance. 

For just a second her eyes rested on me, and the light coming throughthe doorway at her back boldly revealed my countenance. And a verystartled countenance it must have been, for in that fraction of time Iknew that she had heard all that Rodenard had been relating. Underthat instant's glance of her eyes I felt myself turn pale; a shiverran through me, and the sweat started cold upon my brow. Then her gazepassed from me, and looked beyond into the street, as though she had notknown me; whether in her turn she paled or reddened I cannot say, for the light was too uncertain. Next followed what seemed to me aninterminable pause, although, indeed, it can have been no more than amatter of seconds--aye, and of but few. Then, her gown drawn well aside, she passed me in that same irrecognizing way, whilst I, abashed, shrankback into the shadows of the porch, burning with shame and rage andhumiliation. 

From under her brows her woman glanced at me inquisitively; her liveriedpage, his nose in the air, eyed me so pertly that I was hard put to itnot to hasten with my foot his descent of the steps. 

At last they were gone, and from the outside the shrill voice of herpage was wafted to me. He was calling to the ostler for her carriage. Standing, in my deep mortification, where she had passed me, Iconjectured from that demand that she was journeying to Lavedan. 

She knew now how she had been cheated on every hand, first by me andlater, that very afternoon, by Chatellerault, and her resolve to quitToulouse could but signify that she was done with me for good. That ithad surprised her to find me at large already, I fancied I had seen inher momentary glance, but her pride had been quick to conquer and stifleall signs of that surprise. 

I remained where she had passed me until her coach had rumbled away intothe night, and during the moments that elapsed I had stood arguing withmyself and resolving upon my course of action. But despair was fasteningupon me. 

I had come to the Hotel de l'Epee, exulting, joyous, and confident ofvictory. I had come to confess everything to her, and by virtue of whatI had done that confession was rendered easy. I could have said to her:"The woman whom I wagered to win was not you, Roxalanne, but a certainMademoiselle de Lavedan. Your love I have won, but that you may fosterno doubts of my intentions, I have paid my wager and acknowledge defeat. I have made over to Chatellerault and to his heirs for all time myestates of Bardelys. "

Oh, I had rehearsed it in my mind, and I was confident--I knew--that Ishould win her. And now--the disclosure of that shameful traffic comingfrom other lips than mine had ruined everything by forestalling myavowal. 

Rodenard should pay for it--by God, he should! Once again did I become aprey to the passion of anger which I have ever held to be unworthy in agentleman, but to which it would seem that I was growing accustomed togive way. The ostler was mounting the steps at the moment. He carried inhis hand a stout horsewhip with a long knotted thong. Hastily mutteringa "By your leave, " I snatched it from him and sprang into the room. 

My intendant was still talking of me. The room was crowded, for Rodenardalone had brought with him my twenty followers. One of these looked upas I brushed past him, and uttered a cry of surprise upon recognizingme. But Rodenard talked on, engrossed in his theme to the exclusion ofall else. 

"Monsieur le Marquis, " he was saying, "is a gentleman whom it is, indeed, an honour to serve--"

A scream burst from him with the last word, for the lash of my whip hadburnt a wheal upon his well-fed sides. 

"It is an honour that shall be yours no more, you dog!" I cried. 

He leapt high into the air as my whip cut him again. He swung round, hisface twisted with pain, his flabby cheeks white with fear, and his eyeswild with anger, for as yet the full force of the situation had not beenborne in upon him. Then, seeing me there, and catching something of theawful passion that must have been stamped upon my face, he dropped onhis knees and cried out something that I did not understand for I waspast understanding much just then. 

The lash whistled through the air again and caught him about theshoulders. He writhed and roared in his anguish of both flesh andspirit. But I was pitiless. He had ruined my life for me with histalking, and, as God lived, he should pay the only price that it lay inhis power to pay--the price of physical suffering. Again and again mywhip hissed about his head and cut into his soft white flesh, whilst roaring for mercy he moved and rocked on his knees before me. Instinctively he approached me to hamper my movements, whilst I movedback to give my lash the better play. He held out his arms and joinedhis fat hands in supplication, but the lash caught them in its sinuoustormenting embrace, and started a red wheal across their whiteness. He tucked them into his armpits with a scream, and fell prone upon theground. 

Then I remember that some of my men essayed to restrain me, which to mypassion was as the wind to a blaze. I cracked my whip about their heads, commanding them to keep their distance lest they were minded to sharehis castigation. And so fearful an air must I have worn, that, daunted, they hung back and watched their leader's punishment in silence. 

When I think of it now, I take no little shame at the memory of how Ibeat him. It is, indeed, with deep reluctance and yet deeper shame thatI have brought myself to write of it. If I offend you with thisaccount of that horsewhipping, let necessity be my apology; for thehorsewhipping itself I have, unfortunately, no apology, save the blindfury that obsessed me--which is no apology at all. 

Upon the morrow I repented me already with much bitterness. But in thathour I knew no reason. I was mad, and of my madness was born this harshbrutality. 

"You would talk of me and my affairs in a tavern, you hound!" I cried, out of breath both by virtue of my passion and my exertions. "Let thememory of this act as a curb upon your poisonous tongue in future. "

"Monseigneur!" he screamed. "Misericorde, monseigneur!"

"Aye, you shall have mercy--just so much mercy as you deserve. Have Itrusted you all these years, and did my father trust you before me, for this? Have you grown sleek and fat and smug in my service that youshould requite me thus? Sangdieu, Rodenard! My father had hanged youfor the half of the talking that you have done this night. You dog! Youmiserable knave!"

"Monseigneur, " he shrieked again, "forgive! For your sainted mother'ssake, forgive! Monseigneur, I did not know--"

"But you are learning, cur; you are learning by the pain of your fatcarcase; is it not so, carrion?"

He sank down, his strength exhausted, a limp, moaning, bleeding mass offlesh, into which my whip still cut relentlessly. 

I have a picture in my mind of that ill-lighted room, of the startledfaces on which the flickering glimmer of the candles shed odd shadows;of the humming and cracking of my whip; of my own voice raised in oathsand epithets of contempt; of Rodenard's screams; of the cries raisedhere and there in remonstrance or in entreaty, and of some more boldthat called shame upon me. Then others took up that cry of "Shame!" sothat at last I paused and stood there drawn up to my full height, as ifin challenge. Towering above the heads of any in that room, I held mywhip menacingly. I was unused to criticism, and their expressions ofcondemnation roused me. 

"Who questions my right?" I demanded arrogantly, whereupon they one andall fell silent. "If any here be bold enough to step out, he shall havemy answer. " Then, as none responded, I signified my contempt for them bya laugh. 

"Monseigneur!" wailed Rodenard at my feet, his voice growing feeble. 

By way of answer, I gave him a final cut, then I flung the whip--which had grown ragged in the fray--back to the ostler from whom I hadborrowed it. 

"Let that suffice you, Rodenard, " I said, touching him with my foot. "See that I never set eyes upon you again, if you cherish your miserablelife!"

"Not that, monseigneur. " groaned the wretch. "Oh, not that! You havepunished me; you have whipped me until I cannot stand; forgive me, monseigneur, forgive me now!"

"I have forgiven you, but I never wish to see you again, lest I shouldforget that I have forgiven you. Take him away, some of you, " I bade mymen, and in swift, silent obedience two of them stepped forward and borethe groaning, sobbing fellow from the room. When that was done "Host, " Icommanded, "prepare me a room. Attend me, a couple of you. "

I gave orders thereafter for the disposal of my baggage, some of whichmy lacqueys brought up to the chamber that the landlord had in hastemade ready for me. In that chamber I sat until very late; a prey to theutmost misery and despair. My rage being spent, I might have taken somethought for poor Ganymede and his condition, but my own affairs crowdedover-heavily upon my mind, and sat the undisputed rulers of my thoughtsthat night. 

At one moment I considered journeying to Lavedan, only to dismiss theidea the next. What could it avail me now? Would Roxalanne believe thetale I had to tell? Would she not think, naturally enough, that I wasbut making the best of the situation, and that my avowal of the truthof a story which it was not in my power to deny was not spontaneous, butforced from me by circumstances? No, there was nothing more to be done. A score of amours had claimed my attention in the past and receivedit; yet there was not one of those affairs whose miscarriage would haveafforded me the slightest concern or mortification. It seemed like anirony, like a Dies ire, that it should have been left to this first truepassion of my life to have gone awry. 

I slept ill when at last I sought my bed, and through the night I nursedmy bitter grief, huddling to me the corpse of the love she had borne meas a mother may the corpse of her first-born. 

On the morrow I resolved to leave Toulouse--to quit this provincewherein so much had befallen me and repair to Beaugency, there to growold in misanthropical seclusion. I had done with Courts, I had donewith love and with women; I had done, it seemed to me, with life itself. Prodigal had it been in gifts that I had not sought of it. It had spreadmy table with the richest offerings, but they had been little to mypalate, and I had nauseated quickly. And now, when here in this remotecorner of France it had shown me the one prize I coveted, it had beenswift to place it beyond my reach, thereby sowing everlasting discontentand misery in my hitherto pampered heart. 

I saw Castelroux that day, but I said no word to him of my affliction. He brought me news of Chatellerault. The Count was lying in a dangerouscondition at the Auberge Royale, and might not be moved. The physicianattending him all but despaired of his life. 

"He is asking to see you, " said Castelroux. 

But I was not minded to respond. For all that he had deeply wrongedme, for all that I despised him very cordially, the sight of him in hispresent condition might arouse my pity, and I was in no mood to wasteupon such a one as Chatellerault even on his deathbed--a quality ofwhich I had so dire a need just then for my own case. 

"I will not go, " said I, after deliberation. "Tell him from me that Iforgive him freely if it be that he seeks my forgiveness; tell him thatI bear him no rancour, and--that he had better make his will, to save metrouble hereafter, if he should chance to die. "

I said this because I had no mind, if he should perish intestate, to goin quest of his next heirs and advise them that my late Picardy estateswere now their property. 

Castelroux sought yet to persuade me to visit the Count, but I heldfirmly to my resolve. 

"I am leaving Toulouse to-day, " I announced. 

"Whither do you go?"

"To hell, or to Beaugency--I scarce know which, nor does it matter. "

He looked at me in surprise, but, being a man of breeding, asked noquestions upon matters that he accounted secret. 

"But the King?" he ventured presently. 

"His Majesty has already dispensed me from my duties by him. "

Nevertheless, I did not go that day. I maintained the intention untilsunset; then, seeing that it was too late, I postponed my departureuntil the morrow. I can assign no reason for my dallying mood. Perhapsit sprang from the inertness that pervaded me, perhaps some mysterioushand detained me. Be that as it may, that I remained another night atthe Hotel de l'Epee was one of those contingencies which, though slightand seemingly inconsequential in themselves, lead to great issues. HadI departed that day for Beaugency, it is likely that you had never heardof me--leastways, not from my own pen--for in what so far I have toldyou, without that which is to follow, there is haply little that wasworth the labour of setting down. 

In the morning, then, I set out; but having started late, we got nofarther than Grenade, where we lay the night once more at the Hotel dela Couronne. And so, through having delayed my departure by a singleday, did it come to pass that a message reached me before it might havebeen too late. 

It was high noon of the morrow. Our horses stood saddled; indeed, someof my men were already mounted--for I was not minded to disband themuntil Beaugency was reached--and my two coaches were both ready for thejourney. The habits of a lifetime are not so easy to abandon even whenNecessity raises her compelling voice. 

I was in the act of settling my score with the landlord when of a suddenthere were quick steps in the passage, the clank of a rapier against thewall, and a voice--the voice of Castelroux--calling excitedly "Bardelys!Monsieur de Bardelys!"

"What brings you here?" I cried in greeting, as he stepped into theroom. 

"Are you still for Beaugency?" he asked sharply, throwing back his head. 

"Why, yes, " I answered, wondering at this excitement. 

"Then you have seen nothing of Saint-Eustache and his men?"

"Nothing. "

"Yet they must have passed this way not many hours ago. " Then tossinghis hat on the table and speaking with sudden vehemence: "If you haveany interest in the family of Lavedan, you will return upon the instantto Toulouse. "

The mention of Lavedan was enough to quicken my pulses. Yet in thepast two days I had mastered resignation, and in doing that we schoolourselves to much restraint. I turned slowly, and surveyed the littleCaptain attentively. His black eyes sparkled, and his moustachesbristled with excitement. Clearly he had news of import. I turned to thelandlord. 

"Leave us, Monsieur l'Hote, " said I shortly; and when he had departed, "What of the Lavedan family, Castelroux?" I inquired as calmly as Imight. 

"The Chevalier de Saint-Eustache left Toulouse at six o'clock thismorning for Lavedan. "

Swift the suspicion of his errand broke upon my mind. 

"He has betrayed the Vicomte?" I half inquired, half asserted. 

Castelroux nodded. "He has obtained a warrant for his apprehension fromthe Keeper of the Seals, and is gone to execute it. In the course of afew days Lavedan will be in danger of being no more than a name. ThisSaint-Eustache is driving a brisk trade, by God, and some fine prizeshave already fallen to his lot. But if you add them all together, theyare not likely to yield as much as this his latest expedition. Unlessyou intervene, Bardelys, the Vicomte de Lavedan is doomed and his familyhouseless. "

"I will intervene, " I cried. "By God, I will! And as forSaint-Eustache--he was born under a propitious star, indeed, if heescapes the gallows. He little dreams that I am still to be reckonedwith. There, Castelroux, I will start for Lavedan at once. "

Already I was striding to the door, when the Gascon called me back. 

"What good will that do?" he asked. "Were it not better first to returnto Toulouse and obtain a counter-warrant from the King?"

There was wisdom in his words--much wisdom. But my blood was afire, andI was in too hot a haste to reason. 

"Return to Toulouse?" I echoed scornfully. "A waste of time, Captain. No, I will go straight to Lavedan. I need no counter-warrant. I know toomuch of this Chevalier's affairs, and my very presence should be enoughto stay his hand. He is as foul a traitor as you'll find in France;but for the moment God bless him for a very opportune knave. Gilles!" Icalled, throwing wide the door. "Gilles!"

"Monseigneur, " he answered, hastening to me. 

"Put back the carriages and saddle me a horse, " I commanded. "And bidyour fellows mount at once and await me in the courtyard. We are notgoing to Beaugency, Gilles. We ride north--to Lavedan. "

CHAPTER XVIII. SAINT-EUSTACHE IS OBSTINATE

On the occasion of my first visit to Lavedan I had disregarded--or, rather, Fate had contrived that I should disregard--Chatellerault'ssuggestion that I should go with all the panoply of power--with myfollowers, my liveries, and my equipages to compose the magnificenceall France had come to associate with my name, and thus dazzle by mybrilliant lustre the lady I was come to win. As you may remember, I hadcrept into the chateau like a thief in the night, --wounded, bedraggled, and of miserable aspect, seeking to provoke compassion rather thanadmiration. 

Not so now that I made my second visit. I availed myself of all thesplendour to which I owed my title of "Magnificent, " and rode into thecourtyard of the Chateau de Lavedan preceded by twenty well-mountedknaves wearing the gorgeous Saint-Pol liveries of scarlet and gold, withthe Bardelys escutcheon broidered on the breasts of their doublets--on afield or a bar azure surcharged by three lilies of the field. Theywere armed with swords and musketoons, and had more the air of a royalbodyguard than of a company of attendant servants. 

Our coming was in a way well timed. I doubt if we could have stayed theexecution of Saint-Eustache's warrant even had we arrived earlier. Butfor effect--to produce a striking coup de theatre--we could not havecome more opportunely. 

A coach stood in the quadrangle, at the foot of the chateau steps:down these the Vicomte was descending, with the Vicomtesse--grim andblasphemant as ever, on one side, and his daughter, white of face andwith tightly compressed lips, on the other. Between these two women--hiswife and his child--as different in body as they were different in soul, came Lavedan with a firm step, a good colour, and a look of well-bred, lofty indifference to his fate. 

He disposed himself to enter the carriage which was to bear him toprison with much the same air he would have assumed had his destinationbeen a royal levee. 

Around the coach were grouped a score of men of Saint-Eustache'scompany--half soldiers, half ploughboys--ill-garbed and indifferentlyaccoutred in dull breastplates and steel caps, many of which wererusted. By the carriage door stood the long, lank figure of theChevalier himself, dressed with his wonted care, and perfumed, curled, and beribboned beyond belief. His weak, boyish face sought by scowls andby the adoption of a grim smile to assume an air of martial ferocity. 

Such was the grouping in the quadrangle when my men, with Gilles attheir head, thundered across the drawbridge, giving pause to thosewithin, and drawing upon themselves the eyes of all, as they rode, twoby two, under the old-world arch of the keep into the courtyard. AndGilles, who knew our errand, and who was as ready-witted a rogue asever rode with me, took in the situation at a glance. Knowing how muchI desired to make a goodly show, he whispered an order. This resultedin the couples dividing at the gateway, one going to the left and oneto the right, so that as they came they spread themselves in a crescent, and drawing rein, they faced forward, confronting and half surroundingthe Chevalier's company. 

As each couple appeared, the curiosity--the uneasiness, probably--ofSaint-Eustache and his men, had increased, and their expectancy was ontiptoe to see what lord it was went abroad with such regal pomp, when Iappeared in the gateway and advanced at the trot into the middle of thequadrangle. There I drew rein and doffed my hat to them as they stood, open-mouthed and gaping one and all. If it was a theatrical display, aparade worthy of a tilt-ground, it was yet a noble and imposing advent, and their gaping told me that it was not without effect. The men lookeduneasily at the Chevalier; the Chevalier looked uneasily at his men;mademoiselle, very pale, lowered her eyes and pressed her lips yet moretightly; the Vicomtesse uttered an oath of astonishment; whilst Lavedan, too dignified to manifest surprise, greeted me with a sober bow. 

Behind them on the steps I caught sight of a group of domestics, oldAnatole standing slightly in advance of his fellows, and wondering, nodoubt, whether this were, indeed, the bedraggled Lesperon of a littlewhile ago--for if I had thought of pomp in the display of my lacqueys, no less had I considered it in the decking of my own person. Withoutany of the ribbons and fopperies that mark the coxcomb, yet was I clad, plumed, and armed with a magnificence such as I'll swear had not beenseen within the grey walls of that old castle in the lifetime of any ofthose that were now present. 

Gilles leapt from his horse as I drew rein, and hastened to holdmy stirrup, with a murmured "Monsieur, " which title drew a freshastonishment into the eyes of the beholders. 

I advanced leisurely towards Saint-Eustache, and addressed him with suchcondescension as I might a groom, to impress and quell a man of thistype your best weapon is the arrogance that a nobler spirit wouldresent. 

"A world of odd meetings this, Saint-Eustache, " I smiled disdainfully. "A world of strange comings and goings, and of strange transformations. The last time we were here we stood mutually as guests of Monsieur leVicomte; at present you appear to be officiating as a--a tipstaff. "

"Monsieur!" He coloured, and he uttered the word in accents of awakeningresentment. I looked into his eyes, coldly, impassively, as if waitingto hear what he might have to add, and so I stayed until his glance felland his spirit was frozen in him. He knew me, and he knew how much I wasto be feared. A word from me to the King might send him to the wheel. It was upon this I played. Presently, as his eye fell, "Is your businesswith me, Monsieur de Bardelys?" he asked, and at that utterance of myname there was a commotion on the steps, whilst the Vicomte started, andhis eyes frowned upon me, and the Vicomtesse looked up suddenly to scanme with a fresh interest. She beheld at last in the flesh the gentlemanwho had played so notorious a part, ten years ago, in that scandalconnected with the Duchesse de Bourgogne, of which she never tired ofreciting the details. And think that she had sat at table with him dayby day and been unconscious of that momentous fact! Such, I make nodoubt, was what passed through her mind at the moment, and, to judgefrom her expression, I should say that the excitement of beholdingthe Magnificent Bardelys had for the nonce eclipsed beholding even herhusband's condition and the imminent sequestration of Lavedan. 

"My business is with you, Chevalier, " said I. "It relates to yourmission here. "

His jaw fell. "You wish--?"

"To desire you to withdraw your men and quit Lavedan at once, abandoningthe execution of your warrant. "

He flashed me a look of impotent hate. "You know of the existence ofmy warrant, Monsieur de Bardelys, and you must therefore realize that aroyal mandate alone can exempt me from delivering Monsieur de Lavedan tothe Keeper of the Seals. "

"My only warrant, " I answered, somewhat baffled, but far from abandoninghope, "is my word. You shall say to the Garde des Sceaux that you havedone this upon the authority of the Marquis de Bardelys, and you have mypromise that His Majesty shall confirm my action. "

In saying that I said too much, as I was quickly to realize. 

"His Majesty will confirm it, monsieur?" he said interrogatively, and heshook his head. "That is a risk I dare not run. My warrant sets me underimperative obligations which I must discharge--you will see the justiceof what I state. "

His tone was all humility, all subservience, nevertheless it was firmto the point of being hard. But my last card, the card upon which I wasdepending, was yet to be played. 

"Will you do me the honour to step aside with me, Chevalier?" Icommanded rather than besought. 

"At your service, sir, " said he; and I drew him out of earshot of thoseothers. 

"Now, Saint-Eustache, we can talk, " said I, with an abrupt changeof manner from the coldly arrogant to the coldly menacing. "I marvelgreatly at your temerity in pursuing this Iscariot business afterlearning who I am, at Toulouse two nights ago. "

He clenched his hands, and his weak face hardened. 

"I would beg you to consider your expressions, monsieur, and to controlthem, " said he in a thick voice. 

I vouchsafed him a stare of freezing amazement. "You will no doubtremember in what capacity I find you employed. Nay, keep your handsstill, Saint-Eustache. I don't fight catchpolls, and if you give metrouble my men are yonder. " And I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. "Andnow to business. I am not minded to talk all day. I was saying thatI marvel at your temerity, and more particularly at your having laidinformation against Monsieur de Lavedan, and having come here to arresthim, knowing, as you must know, that I am interested in the Vicomte. "

"I have heard of that interest, monsieur, " said he, with a sneer forwhich I could have struck him. 

"This act of yours, " I pursued, ignoring his interpolation, "savoursvery much of flying in the face of Destiny. It almost seems to me as ifyou were defying me. "

His lip trembled, and his eyes shunned my glance. 

"Indeed--indeed, monsieur--" he was protesting, when I cut him short. 

"You cannot be so great a fool but that you must realize that if I tellthe King what I know of you, you will be stripped of your ill-gottengains, and broken on the wheel for a double traitor--a betrayer of yourfellow-rebels. "

"But you will not do that, monsieur?" he cried. "It would be unworthy inyou. "

At that I laughed in his face. "Heart of God! Are you to be what youplease, and do you still expect that men shall be nice in dealing withyou? I would do this thing, and, by my faith, Monsieur de Eustache, Iwill do it, if you compel me!"

He reddened and moved his foot uneasily. Perhaps I did not take the bestway with him, after all. I might have confined myself to sowing fear inhis heart; that alone might have had the effect I desired; by visitingupon him at the same time the insults I could not repress, I may havearoused his resistance, and excited his desire above all else to thwartme. 

"What do you want of me?" he demanded, with a sudden arrogance whichalmost cast mine into the shade. 

"I want you, " said I, deeming the time ripe to make a plain tale of it, "to withdraw your men, and to ride back to Toulouse without Monsieurde Lavedan, there to confess to the Keeper of the Seals that yoursuspicions were unfounded, and that you have culled evidence that theVicomte has had no relations with Monsieur the King's brother. "

He looked at me in amazement--amusedly, almost. 

"A likely story that to bear to the astute gentlemen in Toulouse, " saidhe. 

"Aye, ma foi, a most likely story, " said I. "When they come to considerthe profit that you are losing by not apprehending the Vicomte, and canthink of none that you are making, they will have little difficulty inbelieving you. "

"But what of this evidence you refer to?"

"You have, I take it, discovered no incriminating evidence--no documentsthat will tell against the Vicomte?"

"No, monsieur, it is true that I have not--"

He stopped and bit his lip, my smile making him aware of hisindiscretion. 

"Very well, then, you must invent some evidence to prove that he was inno way, associated with the rebellion. "

"Monsieur de Bardelys, " said he very insolently, "we waste time in idlewords. If you think that I will imperil my neck for the sake of servingyou or the Vicomte, you are most prodigiously at fault. "

"I have never thought so. But I have thought that you might be inducedto imperil your neck--as you have it--for its own sake, and to the endthat you might save it. "

He moved away. "Monsieur, you talk in vain. You have no royal warrantto supersede mine. Do what you will when you come to Toulouse, " and hesmiled darkly. "Meanwhile, the Vicomte goes with me. "

"You have no evidence against him!" I cried, scarce believing that hewould dare to defy me and that I had failed. 

"I have the evidence of my word. I am ready to swear to what Iknow--that, whilst I was here at Lavedan, some weeks ago, I discoveredhis connection with the rebels. "

"And what think you, miserable fool, shall your word weigh againstmine?" I cried. "Never fear, Monsieur le Chevalier, I shall be inToulouse to give you the lie by showing that your word is a word towhich no man may attach faith, and by exposing to the King your pastconduct. If you think that, after I have spoken, King Louis whom theyname the just will suffer the trial of the Vicomte to go further on yourinstigation, or if you think that you will be able to slip your own neckfrom the noose I shall have set about it, you are an infinitely greaterfool than I deem you. "

He stood and looked at me over his shoulder, his face crimson, and hisbrows black as a thundercloud. 

"All this may betide when you come to Toulouse, Monsieur de Bardelys, "said he darkly, "but from here to Toulouse it is a matter of some twentyleagues. "

With that, he turned on his heel and left me, baffled and angry, topuzzle out the inner meaning of his parting words. 

He gave his men the order to mount, and bade Monsieur de Lavedan enterthe coach, whereupon Gilles shot me a glance of inquiry. For a second, as I stepped slowly after the Chevalier, I was minded to try armedresistance, and to convert that grey courtyard into a shambles. Then Isaw betimes the futility of such a step, and I shrugged my shoulders inanswer to my servant's glance. 

I would have spoken to the Vicomte ere he departed, but I was too deeplychagrined and humiliated by my defeat. So much so that I had no room inmy thoughts even for the very natural conjecture of what Lavedan must bethinking of me. I repented me then of my rashness in coming to Lavedanwithout having seen the King--as Castelroux had counselled me. I hadcome indulging vain dreams of a splendid overthrow of Saint-Eustache. Ihad thought to shine heroically in Mademoiselle's eyes, and thus I hadhoped that both gratitude for having saved her father and admiration atthe manner in which I had achieved it would predispose her to grant mea hearing in which I might plead my rehabilitation. Once that wereaccorded me, I did not doubt I should prevail. 

Now my dream was all dispelled, and my pride had suffered just such ahumiliating fall as the moralists tell us pride must ever suffer. Thereseemed little left me but to go hence with lambent tail, like a dog thathas been whipped--my dazzling escort become a mockery but that it servedthe more loudly to advertise my true impotency. 

As I approached the carriage, the Vicomtesse swept suddenly down thesteps and came towards me with a friendly smile. "Monsieur de Bardelys, "said she, "we are grateful for your intervention in the cause of thatrebel my husband. "

"Madame, " I besought her, under my breath, "if you would not totallydestroy him, I beseech you to be cautious. By your leave, I will have mymen refreshed, and thereafter I shall take the road to Toulouse again. Ican only hope that my intervention with the King may bear better fruit. "

Although I spoke in a subdued key, Saint-Eustache, who stood near us, overheard me, as his face very clearly testified. 

"Remain here, sir, " she replied, with some effusion, "and follow us whenyou are rested. "

"Follow you?" I inquired. "Do you then go with Monsieur de Lavedan?"

"No, Anne, " said the Vicomte politely from the carriage. "It will betiring you unnecessarily. You were better advised to remain here untilmy return. "

I doubt not that the poor Vicomte was more concerned with how she wouldtire him than with how the journey might tire her. But the Vicomtessewas not to be gainsaid. The Chevalier had sneered when the Vicomte spokeof returning. Madame had caught that sneer, and she swung round upon himnow with the vehement fury of a virago. 

"He'll not return, you think, you Judas!" she snarled at him, her lean, swarthy face growing very evil to see. "But he shall--by God, he shall!And look to your skin when he does, monsieur the catchpoll, for, onmy honour, you shall have a foretaste of hell for your trouble in thismatter. "

The Chevalier smiled with much restraint. "A woman's tongue, " said he, "does no injury. "

"Will a woman's arm, think you?" demanded that warlike matron. "Youmusk-stinking tipstaff, I'll--"

"Anne, my love, " implored the Vicomte soothingly, "I beg that you willcontrol yourself. "

"Shall I submit to the insolence of this misbegotten vassal? Shall I--"

"Remember rather that it does not become the dignity of your station toaddress the fellow. We avoid venomous reptiles, but we do not pause toreproach them with their venom. God made them so. "

Saint-Eustache coloured to the roots of his hair, then, turning hastilyto the driver, he bade him start. He would have closed the door withthat, but that madame thrust herself forward. 

That was the Chevalier's chance to be avenged. "You cannot go, " said he. 

"Cannot?" Her cheeks reddened. "Why not, monsieur Lesperon?

"I have no reasons to afford you, " he answered brutally. "You cannotgo. "

"Your pardon, Chevalier, " I interposed. "You go beyond your rights inseeking to prevent her. Monsieur le Vicomte is not yet convicted. Donot, I beseech you, transcend the already odious character of yourwork. "

And without more ado I shouldered him aside, and held the door that shemight enter. She rewarded me with a smile--half vicious, half whimsical, and mounted the step. Saint-Eustache would have interfered. He cameat me as if resenting that shoulder-thrust of mine, and for a second Ialmost thought he would have committed the madness of striking me. 

"Take care, Saint-Eustache, " I said very quietly, my eyes fixed on his. And much as dead Caesar's ghost may have threatened Brutus with Philippi"We meet at Toulouse, Chevalier, " said I, and closing the carriage doorI stepped back. 

There was a flutter of skirts behind me. It was mademoiselle. So braveand outwardly so calm until now, the moment of actual separation--andadded thereunto perhaps her mother's going and the loneliness that forherself she foresaw--proved more than she could endure. I stepped aside, and she swept past me and caught at the leather curtain of the coach. 

"Father!" she sobbed. 

There are some things that a man of breeding may not witness--somethings to look upon which is near akin to eavesdropping or reading theletters of another. Such a scene did I now account the present one, and, turning, I moved away. But Saint-Eustache cut it short, for scarce hadI taken three paces when his voice rang out the command to move. Thedriver hesitated, for the girl was still hanging at the window. But asecond command, accompanied by a vigorous oath, overcame his hesitation. He gathered up his reins, cracked his whip, and the lumbering wheelsbegan to move. 

"Have a care, child!" I heard the Vicomte cry, "have a care! Adieu, monenfant!"

She sprang back, sobbing, and assuredly she would have fallen, thrownout of balance by the movement of the coach, but that I put forth myhands and caught her. 

I do not think she knew whose were the arms that held her for that briefspace, so desolated was she by the grief so long repressed. At last sherealized that it was this worthless Bardelys against whom she rested;this man who had wagered that he would win and wed her; this impostorwho had come to her under an assumed name; this knave who had lied toher as no gentleman could have lied, swearing to love her, whilst, inreality, he did no more than seek to win a wager. When all this sherealized, she shuddered a second, then moved abruptly from my grasp, and, without so much as a glance at me, she left me, and, ascending thesteps of the chateau, she passed from my sight. 

I gave the order to dismount as the last of Saint-Eustache's followersvanished under the portcullis. 

CHAPTER XIX. THE FLINT AND THE STEEL

"Mademoiselle will see you, monsieur, " said Anatole at last. 

Twice already had he carried unavailingly my request that Roxalanneshould accord me an interview ere I departed. On this the third occasionI had bidden him say that I would not stir from Lavedan until she haddone me the honour of hearing me. Seemingly that threat had prevailedwhere entreaties had been scorned. 

I followed Anatole from the half-light of the hall in which I had beenpacing into the salon overlooking the terraces and the river, whereRoxalanne awaited me. She was standing at the farther end of the room byone of the long windows, which was open, for, although we were alreadyin the first week of October, the air of Languedoc was as warm and balmyas that of Paris or Picardy is in summer. 

I advanced to the centre of the chamber, and there I paused and waiteduntil it should please her to acknowledge my presence and turn to faceme. I was no fledgling. I had seen much, I had learnt much and been inmany places, and my bearing was wont to convey it. Never in my lifehad I been gauche, for which I thank my parents, and if years ago--longyears ago--a certain timidity had marked my first introductions to theLouvre and the Luxembourg, that timidity was something from which I hadlong since parted company. And yet it seemed to me, as I stood in thatpretty, sunlit room awaiting the pleasure of that child, scarce out ofher teens, that some of the awkwardness I had escaped in earlier years, some of the timidity of long ago, came to me then. I shifted the weightof my body from one leg to the other; I fingered the table by which Istood; I pulled at the hat I held; my colour came and went; I lookedat her furtively from under bent brows, and I thanked God that her backbeing towards me she might not see the clown I must have seemed. 

At length, unable longer to brook that discomposing silence--

"Mademoiselle!" I called softly. The sound of my own voice seemed toinvigorate me, to strip me of my awkwardness and self-consciousness. Itbroke the spell that for a moment had been over me, and brought me backto myself--to the vain, self-confident, flamboyant Bardelys that perhapsyou have pictured from my writings. 

"I hope, monsieur, " she answered, without turning, "that what youmay have to say may justify in some measure your very importunateinsistence. "

On my life, this was not encouraging. But now that I was master ofmyself, I was not again so easily to be disconcerted. My eyes restedupon her as she stood almost framed in the opening of that long window. How straight and supple she was, yet how dainty and slight withal! Shewas far from being a tall woman, but her clean length of limb, her veryslightness, and the high-bred poise of her shapely head, conveyed anillusion of height unless you stood beside her. The illusion did notsway me then. I saw only a child; but a child with a great spirit, witha great soul that seemed to accentuate her physical helplessness. Thathelplessness, which I felt rather than saw, wove into the warp of mylove. She was in grief just then--in grief at the arrest of her father, and at the dark fate that threatened him; in grief at the unworthinessof a lover. Of the two which might be the more bitter it was not mine tojudge, but I burned to gather her to me, to comfort and cherish her, tomake her one with me, and thus, whilst giving her something of my man'sheight and strength, cull from her something of that pure, noble spirit, and thus sanctify my own. 

I had a moment's weakness when she spoke. I was within an ace ofadvancing and casting myself upon my knees like any Lenten penitent, tosue forgiveness. But I set the inclination down betimes. Such expedientswould not avail me here. 

"What I have to say, mademoiselle, " I answered after a pause, "wouldjustify a saint descending into, hell; or, rather, to make my metaphormore apt, would warrant a sinner's intrusion into heaven. "

I spoke solemnly, yet not too solemnly; the least slur of a sardonichumour was in my tones. 

She moved her head upon the white column of her neck, and with thegesture one of her brown curls became disordered. I could fancy theupward tilt of her delicate nose, the scornful curve of her lip as sheanswered shortly "Then say it quickly, monsieur. "

And, being thus bidden, I said quickly "I love you, Roxalanne. "

Her heel beat the shimmering parquet of the floor; she half turnedtowards me, her cheek flushed, her lip tremulous with anger. 

"Will you say what you have to say, monsieur?" she demanded in aconcentrated voice, "and having said it, will you go?"

"Mademoiselle, I have already said it, " I answered, with a wistfulsmile. 

"Oh!" she gasped. Then suddenly facing round upon me, a world of angerin her blue eyes--eyes that I had known dreamy, but which were nowvery wide awake. "Was it to offer me this last insult you forced yourpresence upon me? Was it to mock me with those words, me--a woman, withno man about me to punish you? Shame, sir! Yet it is no more than Imight look for in you. "

"Mademoiselle, you do me grievous wrong--" I began. 

"I do you no wrong, " she answered hotly, then stopped, unwilling haplyto be drawn into contention with me. "Enfin, since you have said whatyou came to say will you go?" And she pointed to the door. 

"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle--" I began in a voice of earnestintercession. 

"Go!" she interrupted angrily, and for a second the violence of hervoice and gesture almost reminded me of the Vicomtesse. "I will hear nomore from you. "

"Mademoiselle, you shall, " I answered no whit less firmly. 

"I will not listen to you. Talk if you will. You shall have the wallsfor audience. " And she moved towards the door, but I barred her passage. I was courteous to the last degree; I bowed low before her as I putmyself in her way. 

"It is all that was wanting--that you should offer me violence!" sheexclaimed. 

"God forbid!" said I. 

"Then let me pass. "

"Aye, when you have heard me. "

"I do not wish to hear you. Nothing that you may say can matter to me. Oh, monsieur, if you have any instincts of gentility, if you have anypretension to be accounted anything but a mauvais sujet, I beg of you torespect my grief. You witnessed, yourself, the arrest of my father. Thisis no season for such as scene as you are creating. "

"Pardon! It is in such a season as this that you need the comfort andsupport that the man you love alone can give you. "

"The man I love?" she echoed, and from flushed that they had been, hercheeks went very pale. Her eyes fell for an instant, then--they wereraised again, and their blue depths were offered me. "I think, sir, " shesaid, through her teeth, "that your insolence transcends all belief. "

"Can you deny it?" I cried. "Can you deny that you love me? If youcan--why, then, you lied to me three nights ago at Toulouse!"

That smote her hard--so hard that she forgot her assurance that shewould not listen to me--her promise to herself that she would stoop tono contention with me. 

"If, in a momentary weakness, in my nescience of you as you truly are, I did make some such admission, I did entertain such feelings foryou, things have come to my knowledge since then, monsieur, that haverevealed you to me as another man; I have learnt something that hasutterly withered such love as I then confessed. Now, monsieur, are yousatisfied, and will you let me pass?" She said the last words with areturn of her imperiousness, already angry at having been drawn so far. 

"I am satisfied, mademoiselle, " I answered brutally, "that you did notspeak the truth three nights ago. You never loved me. It was pity thatdeluded you, shame that urged you--shame at the Delilah part you hadplayed and at your betrayal of me. Now, mademoiselle, you may pass, "said I. 

And I stood aside, assured that as she was a woman she would not passme now. Nor did she. She recoiled a step instead. Her lip quivered. Thenshe recovered quickly. Her mother might have told her that she was afool for engaging herself in such a duel with me--me, the veteran ofa hundred amorous combats. Yet though I doubt not it was her firstassault-at-arms of this description, she was more than a match for me, as her next words proved. 

"Monsieur, I thank you for enlightening me. I cannot, indeed, havespoken the truth three nights ago. You are right, I do not doubt it now, and you lift from me a load of shame. "

Dieu! It was like a thrust in the high lines, and its hurtful violencestaggered me. I was finished, it seemed. The victory was hers, and shebut a child with no practice of Cupid's art of fence!

"Now, monsieur, " she added, "now that you are satisfied that youdid wrong to say I loved you, now that we have disposed of thatquestion--adieu!"

"A moment yet!" I cried. "We have disposed of that, but there wasanother point, an earlier one, which for the moment we have disregarded. We have--you have disproved the love I was so presumptuous as to believeyou fostered for me. We have yet to reckon with the love I bear you, mademoiselle, and of that we shall not be able to dispose so readily. "

With a gesture of weariness or of impatience, she turned aside. "What isit you want? What do you seek to gain by thus provoking me? To win yourwager?" Her voice was cold. Who to have looked upon that childlike face, upon those meek, pondering eyes, could have believed her capable of somuch cruelty?

"There can no longer be any question of my wager; I have lost and paidit, " said I. 

She looked up suddenly. Her brows met in a frown of bewilderment. Clearly this interested her. Again was she drawn. 

"How?" she asked. "You have lost and paid it?"

"Even so. That odious, cursed, infamous wager, was the something whichI hinted at so often as standing between you and me. The confession thatso often I was on the point of making--that so often you urged me tomake--concerned that wager. Would to God, Roxalanne, that I had toldyou!" I cried, and it seemed to me that the sincerity ringing in myvoice drove some of the harshness from her countenance, some of thecoldness from her glance. 

"Unfortunately, " I pursued, "it always seemed to me either not yet time, or already too late. Yet so soon as I regained my liberty, my firstthought was of that. While the wager existed I might not ask you tobecome my wife, lest I should seem to be carrying out the originalintention which embarked me upon the business of wooing you, and broughtme here to Languedoc. And so my first step was to seek out Chatelleraultand deliver him my note of hand for my Picardy possessions, the bulk--byfar the greater bulk--of all my fortune. My second step was to repair toyou at the Hotel de l'Epee. 

"At last I could approach you with clean hands; I could confess whatI had done; and since it seemed to me that I had made the utmostatonement, I was confident of success. Alas! I came too late. In theporch of the auberge I met you as you came forth. From my talkativeintendant you had learnt already the story of that bargain into whichBardelys had entered. You had learnt who I was, and you thought that youhad learnt why I wooed you. Accordingly you could but despise me. "

She had sunk into a chair. Her hands were folded in a listless manner inher lap, and her eyes were lowered, her cheeks pale. But the swift heaveof her bosom told me that my words were not without effect. "Do you knownothing of the bargain that I made with Chatellerault?" she asked in avoice that held, I thought, some trace of misery. 

"Chatellerault was a cheat!" I cried. "No man of honour in France wouldhave accounted himself under obligation to pay that wager. I paid it, not because I thought the payment due, but that by its payment I mightoffer you a culminating proof of my sincerity. "

"Be that as it may, " said she, "I passed him my word to--to marry him, if he set you at liberty. "

"The promise does not hold, for when you made it I was at libertyalready. Besides, Chatellerault is dead by now--or very near it. "

"Dead?" she echoed, looking up. 

"Yes, dead. We fought--" The ghost of a smile, of sudden, of scornfulunderstanding, passed like a ray of light across her face. "Pardieu!" Icried, "you do me a wrong there. It was not by my hands that he fell. Itwas not by me that the duel was instigated. "

And with that I gave her the whole details of the affair, including theinformation that Chatellerault had been no party to my release, and thatfor his attempted judicial murder of me the King would have dealtvery hardly with him had he not saved the King the trouble by throwinghimself upon his sword:

There was a silence when I had done. Roxalanne sat on, and seemed toponder. To let all that I had said sink in and advocate my cause, asto me was very clear it must, I turned aside and moved to one of thewindows. 

"Why did you not tell me before?" she asked suddenly. "Why--oh, why--didyou not confess to me the whole infamous affair as soon as you came tolove me, as you say you did?"

"As I say I did?" I repeated after her. "Do you doubt it? Can you doubtit in the face of what I have done?"

"Oh, I don't know what to believe!" she cried, a sob in her voice. "Youhave deceived me so far, so often. Why did you not tell me that nighton the river? Or later, when I pressed you in this very house? Or again, the other night in the prison of Toulouse?"

"You ask me why. Can you not answer the question for yourself? Can younot conceive the fear that was in me that you should shrink away from mein loathing? The fear that if you cared a little, I might for all timestifle such affection as you bore me? The fear that I must ruin yourtrust in me? Oh, mademoiselle, can you not see how my only hope lay infirst owning defeat to Chatellerault, in first paying the wager?"

"How could you have lent yourself to such a bargain?" was her nextquestion. 

"How, indeed?" I asked in my turn. "From your mother you have heardsomething of the reputation that attaches to Bardelys. I was a man ofcareless ways, satiated with all the splendours life could give me, nauseated by all its luxuries. Was it wonderful that I allowed myselfto be lured into this affair? It promised some excitement, a certainnovelty, difficulties in a path that I had--alas!--ever found alltoo smooth--for Chatellerault had made your reputed coldness the chiefbolster of his opinion that I should not win. 

"Again, I was not given to over-nice scruples. I make no secret of myinfirmities, but do not blame me too much. If you could see the finedemoiselles we have in Paris, if you could listen to their tenets andtake a deep look into their lives, you would not marvel at me. I hadnever known any but these. On the night of my coming to Lavedan, yoursweetness, your pure innocence, your almost childish virtue, dazed me bytheir novelty. From that first moment I became your slave. Then I was inyour garden day by day. And here, in this old Languedoc garden with youand your roses, during the languorous days of my convalescence, is itwonderful that some of the purity, some of the sweetness that was ofyou and of your roses, should have crept into my heart and cleansed ita little? Ah, mademoiselle!" I cried--and, coming close to her, I wouldhave bent my knee in intercession but that she restrained me. 

"Monsieur, " she interrupted, "we harass ourselves in vain. This can havebut one ending. "

Her tones were cold, but the coldness I knew was forced--else had shenot said "we harass ourselves. " Instead of quelling my ardour, it gaveit fuel. 

"True, mademoiselle, " I cried, almost exultantly. "It can end but oneway!"

She caught my meaning, and her frown deepened. I went too fast, itseemed. 

"It had better end now, monsieur. There is too much between us. Youwagered to win me to wife. " She shuddered. "I could never forget it. "

"Mademoiselle, " I denied stoutly, "I did not. "

"How?" She caught her breath. "You did not?"

"No, " I pursued boldly. "I did not wager to win you. I wagered to wina certain Mademoiselle de Lavedan, who was unknown to me--but not you, not you. "

She smiled, with never so slight a touch of scorn. 

"Your distinctions are very fine--too fine for me, monsieur. "

"I implore you to be reasonable. Think reasonably. "

"Am I not reasonable? Do I not think? But there is so much to thinkof!" she sighed. "You carried your deception so far. You came here, forinstance, as Monsieur de Lesperon. Why that duplicity?"

"Again, mademoiselle, I did not, " said I. 

She glanced at me with pathetic disdain. 

"Indeed, indeed, monsieur, you deny things very bravely. "

"Did I tell you that my name was Lesperon? Did I present myself tomonsieur your father as Lesperon?"

"Surely--yes. "

"Surely no; a thousand times no. I was the victim of circumstances inthat, and if I turned them to my own account after they had beenforced upon me, shall I be blamed and accounted a cheat? Whilst I wasunconscious, your father, seeking for a clue to my identity, made aninspection of my clothes. 

"In the pocket of my doublet they found some papers addressed to Rene deLesperon--some love letters, a communication from the Duc d'Orleans, and a woman's portrait. From all of this it was assumed that I wasthat Lesperon. Upon my return to consciousness your father greeted meeffusively, whereat I wondered; he passed on to discuss--nay, to tell meof--the state of the province and of his own connection with the rebels, until I lay gasping at his egregious temerity. Then, when he greetedme as Monsieur de Lesperon, I had the explanation of it, but too late. Could I deny the identity then? Could I tell him that I was Bardelys, the favourite of the King himself? What would have occurred? I ask you, mademoiselle. Would I not have been accounted a spy, and would they nothave made short work of me here at your chateau?"

"No, no; they would have done no murder. "

"Perhaps not, but I could not be sure just then. Most men situated asyour father was would have despatched me. Ah, mademoiselle, have you notproofs enough? Do you not believe me now?"

"Yes, monsieur, " she answered simply, "I believe you. "

"Will you not believe, then, in the sincerity of my love?"

She made no rely. Her face was averted, but from her silence I tookheart. I drew close to her. I set my hand upon the tall back of herchair, and, leaning towards her, I spoke with passionate heat as musthave melted, I thought, any woman who had not a loathing for me. 

"Mademoiselle; I am a poor man now, " I ended. "I am no longer thatmagnificent gentleman whose wealth and splendour were a byword. Yet am Ino needy adventurer. I have a little property at Beaugency--a very spotfor happiness, mademoiselle. Paris shall know me no more. At BeaugencyI shall live at peace, in seclusion, and, so that you come with me, insuch joy as in all my life I have done nothing to deserve. I have nolonger an army of retainers. A couple of men and a maid or two shallconstitute our household. Yet I shall account my wealth well lost if forlove's sake you'll share with me the peace of my obscurity. I am poor, mademoiselle yet no poorer even now than that Gascon gentleman, Rene deLesperon, for whom you held me, and on whom you bestowed the pricelesstreasure of your heart. "

"Oh, might it have pleased God that you had remained that poor Gascongentleman!" she cried. 

"In what am I different, Roxalanne?"

"In that he had laid no wager, " she answered, rising suddenly. 

My hopes were withering. She was not angry. She was pale, and her gentleface was troubled--dear God! how sorely troubled! To me it almost seemedthat I had lost. 

She flashed me a glance of her blue eyes, and I thought that tearsimpended. 

"Roxalanne!" I supplicated. 

But she recovered the control that for a moment she had appeared uponthe verge of losing. She put forth her hand. 

"Adieu, monsieur!" said she. 

I glanced from her hand to her face. Her attitude began to anger me, forI saw that she was not only resisting me, but resisting herself. In herheart the insidious canker of doubt persisted. She knew--or should haveknown--that it no longer should have any place there, yet obstinatelyshe refrained from plucking it out. There was that wager. But for thatsame obstinacy she must have realized the reason of my arguments, theirrefutable logic of my payment. She denied me, and in denying me shedenied herself, for that she had loved me she had herself told me, andthat she could love me again I was assured, if she would but see thething in the light of reason and of justice. 

"Roxalanne, I did not come to Lavedan to say 'Good-bye' to you. I seekfrom you a welcome, not a dismissal. "

"Yet my dismissal is all that I can give. Will you not take my hand? Maywe not part in friendly spirit?"

"No, we may not; for we do not part at all. "

It was as the steel of my determination striking upon the flint of hers. She looked up to my face for an instant; she raised her eyebrows indeprecation; she sighed, shrugged one shoulder, and, turning on herheel, moved towards the door. 

"Anatole shall bring you refreshment ere you go, " she said in a verypolite and formal voice. 

Then I played my last card. Was it for nothing that I had flung awaymy wealth? If she would not give herself, by God, I would compel herto sell herself. And I took no shame in doing it, for by doing it I wassaving her and saving myself from a life of unhappiness. 

"Roxalanne!" I cried. The imperiousness of my voice arrested andcompelled her perhaps against her very will. 

"Monsieur?" said she, as demurely as you please. 

"Do you know what you are doing?". 

"But yes--perfectly. "

"Pardieu, you do not. I will tell you. You are sending your father tothe scaffold. "

She turned livid, her step faltered, and she leant against the frame ofthe doorway for support. Then she stared at me, wide-eyed in horror. 

"That is not true, " she pleaded, yet without conviction. "He is notin danger of his life. They can prove nothing against him. Monsieur deSaint-Eustache could find no evidence here--nothing. "

"Yet there is Monsieur de Saint-Eustache's word; there is the fact--thesignificant fact--that your father did not take up arms for the King, to afford the Chevalier's accusation some measure of corroboration. AtToulouse in these times they are not particular. Remember how it hadfared with me but for the King's timely arrival. "

That smote home. The last shred of her strength fell from her. A greatsob shook her, then covering her face with her hands "Mother in heaven, have pity on me!" she cried. "Oh, it cannot be, it cannot be!"

Her distress touched me sorely. I would have consoled her, I would havebidden her have no fear, assuring her that I would save her father. But for my own ends, I curbed the mood. I would use this as a cudgel toshatter her obstinacy, and I prayed that God might forgive me if I didaught that a gentleman should account unworthy. My need was urgent, mylove all-engrossing; winning her meant winning life and happiness, andalready I had sacrificed so much. Her cry rang still in my ears, "Itcannot be, it cannot be!"

I trampled my nascent tenderness underfoot, and in its room I set aharshness that I did not feel--a harshness of defiance and menace. 

"It can be, it will be, and, as God lives, it shall be, if you persistin your unreasonable attitude. "

"Monsieur, have mercy!"

"Yes, when you shall be pleased to show me the way to it by having mercyupon me. If I have sinned, I have atoned. But that is a closed questionnow; to reopen it were futile. Take heed of this, Roxalanne: there isone thing--one only in all France can save your father. "

"That is, monsieur?" she inquired breathlessly. 

"My word against that of Saint-Eustache. My indication to His Majestythat your father's treason is not to be accepted on the accusation ofSaint-Eustache. My information to the King of what I know touching thisgentleman. "

"You will go, monsieur?" she implored me. "Oh, you will save him! MonDieu, to think of the time that we have wasted here, you and I, whilsthe is being carried to the scaffold! Oh, I did not dream it was soperilous with him! I was desolated by his arrest; I thought of somemonths' imprisonment, perhaps. But that he should die--! Monsieur deBardelys, you will save him! Say that you will do this for me!"

She was on her knees to me now, her arms clasping my boots, her eyesraised in entreaty--God, what entreaty!--to my own. 

"Rise, mademoiselle, I beseech you, " I said, with a quiet I was far fromfeeling. "There is no need for this. Let us be calm. The danger to yourfather is not so imminent. We may have some days yet--three or four, perhaps. "

I lifted her gently and led her to a chair. I was hard put to it not tohold her supported in my arms. But I might not cull that advantage fromher distress. A singular niceness, you will say, perhaps, as in yourscorn you laugh at me. Perhaps you are right to laugh--yet are you notaltogether right. 

"You will go to Toulouse, monsieur?" she begged. 

I took a turn in the room, then halting before her "Yes, " I answered, "Iwill go. "

The gratitude that leapt to her eyes smote me hard, for my sentence wasunfinished. 

"I will go, " I continued quickly, "when you shall have promised tobecome my wife. "

The joy passed from her face. She glanced at me a moment as if withoutunderstanding. 

"I came to Lavedan to win you, Roxalanne, and from Lavedan I shall notstir until I have accomplished my design, " I said very quietly. "Youwill therefore see that it rests with you how soon I may set out. "

She fell to weeping softly, but answered nothing. At last I turned fromher and moved towards the door. 

"Where are you going?" she cried. 

"To take the air, mademoiselle. If upon deliberation you can bringyourself to marry me, send me word by Anatole or one of the others, andI shall set out at once for Toulouse. "

"Stop!" she cried. Obediently I stopped, my hand already upon thedoorknob. "You are cruel, monsieur!" she complained. 

"I love you, " said I, by way of explaining it. "To be cruel seems to bethe way of love. You have been cruel to me. "

"Would you--would you take what is not freely given?"

"I have the hope that when you see that you must give, you will givefreely. "

"If--if I make you this promise--"

"Yes?" I was growing white with eagerness. 

"You will fulfil your part of the bargain?"

"It is a habit of mine, mademoiselle--as witnesses the case ofChatellerault. " She shivered at the mention of his name. It reminded herof precisely such another bargain that three nights ago she had made. Precisely, did I say? Well, not quite precisely. 

"I--I promise to marry you, then, " said she in a choking voice, "whenever you choose, after my father shall have been set at liberty. "

I bowed. "I shall start at once, " said I. 

And perhaps out of shame, perhaps out of--who shall say whatsentiments?--I turned without another word and left her. 

CHAPTER XX. THE "BRAVI" AT BLAGNAC

I was glad to be in the open once more--glad of the movement, as I rodeat the head of my brave company along the bank of the Garonne and in theshade of the golden, autumn-tinted trees. 

I was in a measure angry with myself that I had driven such a bargainwith Roxalanne, in a measure angry with her that she had forced me toit by her obstinacy. A fine gentleman I, on my soul, to have dubbedChatellerault a cheat for having done no worse than I had now broughtmyself to do! Yet, was it so? No, I assured myself, it was not. Athousand times no! What I had done I had done as much to win Roxalanneto me as to win her from her own unreasonableness. In the days to comeshe should thank me for my harshness, for that which now she perhapsaccounted my unfairness. 

Then, again, would I ask myself, was I very sure of this? And so the twoquestions were flung the one against the other; my conscience divideditself into two parties, and they waged a war that filled me with adepressing uncertainty. 

In the end shame was overthrown, and I flung back my head with asnort of assurance. I was doing no wrong. On the contrary, I was doingright--both by myself and by Roxalanne. What matter that I was reallycheating her? What matter that I had said I would not leave Lavedanuntil I had her promise, whilst in reality I had hurled my threat atSaint-Eustache that I would meet him at Toulouse, and passed my word tothe Vicomtesse that I would succour her husband?

I gave no thought to the hidden threat with which Saint-Eustache hadretorted that from Lavedan to Toulouse was a distance of some twentyleagues. Had he been a man of sterner purposes I might have been uneasyand on my guard. But Saint-Eustache pshaw!

It is ill to underestimate an enemy, be he never so contemptible, and for my disdain of the Chevalier I might have paid dearly had notFortune--which of late had been practising singular jests upon me afterseemingly abandoning me, returned to my aid at the last moment. 

It was Saint-Eustache's purpose that I should never reach Toulousealive, for in all the world I was the one man he feared, the one manwho would encompass his undoing and destruction by a word. And so he hadresolved and disposed that I should be removed, and to accomplish thishe had left a line of bravi along the road I was to pass. 

He had counted upon my lying the night in one of the intervening towns, for the journey was over-long to be accomplished at a stretch, andwherever I might chance to lie, there I should have to reckon with hisassassins. The nearer Toulouse--although I knew not this--the thickergrew my danger. Into the very thick of it I rode; in the very thick ofit I lay, and all that came of it was that I obtained possession of onemore and overwhelming piece of evidence against my murderous Chevalier. But I outrun my story. 

It had been my purpose to change horses at Grenade, and so push on andreach Toulouse that very night or in the early hours of the followingmorning. At Grenade, however, there were no horses to be obtained, atleast not more than three, and so, leaving the greater portion of mycompany behind, I set out, escorted only by Gilles and Antoine. Nighthad fallen long before we reached Lespinasse, and with it came foulweather. The wind rose from the west, grew to the violence of ahurricane, and brought with it such a deluge of cold, cutting rain asnever had it been my ill-chance to ride through. From Lespinasse toFenouillet the road dips frequently, and wherever this occurred itseemed to us that we were riding in a torrent, our horses fetlock-deepin mud. 

Antoine complained in groans; Gilles growled openly, and went the lengthof begging me, as we rode through the ill-paved, flooded streets ofFenouillet, to go no farther. But I was adamant in my resolve. Soaked tothe skin, my clothes hanging sodden about me, and chilled to the marrowthough I was, I set my chattering teeth, and swore that we should notsleep until we reached Toulouse. 

"My God, " he groaned, "and we but halfway!"

"Forward!" was all I answered; and so as midnight chimed we leftFenouillet behind us, and dashed on into the open country and the fullfury of the tempest. 

My servants came after me upon their stumbling horses, whining andcursing by turns, and forgetting in their misery the respect that theywere accustomed to pay me. I think now that it was a providence thatguided me. Had I halted at Fenouillet, as they would have had me do, it is odds that this chronicle would never have been penned, for likelyenough I had had my throat cut as I slept. A providence was it also thatbrought my horse down within a half-mile of Blagnac, and so badly did itfounder that it might not be ridden farther. 

The beasts my men bestrode were in little better condition, and so, withinfinite chagrin, I was forced to acknowledge defeat and to determinethat at Blagnac we should lie for the remainder of the night. After all, it mattered little. A couple of hours' riding in the morning would bringus to Toulouse, and we would start betimes. 

I bade Gilles dismount--he had been the louder in his complainings--andfollow us afoot, bringing my horse to the Auberge de l'Etoile atBlagnac, where he would await him. Then I mounted his jaded beast, and, accompanied by Antoine--the last of my retainers--I rode into Blagnac, and pulled up at the sign of the "Star. "

With my whip I smote the door, and I had need to smite hard if I wouldbe heard above the wind that shrieked and howled under the eaves of thatnarrow street. Yet it almost seemed as if some one were expected, forscarce had my knocking ceased when the door was opened, and the landlordstood there, shading a taper with his hand. For a moment I saw theglow of its light on his rosy, white-bearded face, then a gust of windextinguished it. 

"Diable!" he swore, "an ugly night for travelling"; adding as anafterthought, "You ride late, monsieur. "

"You are a man of supreme discernment, Monsieur l'Hote, " said I testily, as I pushed him aside and stepped into the passage. "Will you keep mein the rain till daylight whilst you perpend how late I ride? Is yourostler abed? See to those beasts yourself, then. Afterwards get mefood--for me and for my man and beds for both of us. "

"I have but one room, monsieur, " he answered respectfully. "You shallhave that, and your servant shall sleep in the hayloft. "

"My servant sleeps in my room, if you have but one. Set a mattress onthe floor for him. Is this a night to leave a dog to sleep in a hayloft?I have another servant following. He will be here in a few minutes. Youmust find room for him also--in the passage outside my door, if no otheraccommodation be possible. "

"But, monsieur--" he began in a tone of protest, which I set down to theway a landlord has of making difficulties that he shall be the betterpaid for such lodging as he finds us. 

"See to it, " I ordered peremptorily. "You shall be well paid. Now gotend those horses. "

On the wall of the passage fell a warm, reddish glow from the commonroom, which argued a fire, and this was too alluring to admit of myremaining longer in discussion with him. I strode forward, therefore. The Auberge de l'Etoile was not an imposing hostelry, nor one at whichfrom choice I had made a halt. This common room stank most vilely ofoil, of burning tallow--from the smoky tapers--and of I know not whatother noisome unsavourinesses. 

As I entered, I was greeted by a resonant snore from a man seated ina corner by the fire. His head had fallen back, displaying the brown, sinewy neck, and he slept--or seemed to sleep--with mouth wide open. Full length on the hearth and in the red glare of the burning logslay what at first glance I took to be a heap of rags, but which closerscrutiny showed me to be another man, seemingly asleep also. 

I flung my sodden castor on the table; I dropped my drenched cloak onthe ground, and stepped with heavy tread and a noisy rattle of spursacross the floor. Yet my ragged gentleman slept on. I touched himlightly with my whip. 

"Hold, mon bonhomme!" I cried to him. Still he did not move, whereat Ilost patience and caught him a kick full in the side, so choicely aimedthat first it doubled him up, then brought him into a sitting posture, with the snarl of a cross-grained dog that has been rudely aroused. 

From out of an evil, dirty countenance a pair of gloomy, bloodshot eyesscowled threateningly upon me. The man on the chair awoke at the sameinstant, and sat forward. 

"Eh bien?" said I to my friend on the hearth: "Will you stir yourself?"

"For whom?" he growled. "Is not the Etoile as much for me as for you, whoever you may be?"

"We have paid our lodging, pardieu!" swore he of the chair. 

"My masters, " said I grimly, "if you have not eyes to see my soddencondition, and if you therefore have not the grace to move that I mayapproach the fire; I'll see to it that you spend the night not only al'Etoile, but a la belle etoile. " With which pleasantry, and a touchof the foot, I moved my friend aside. My tone was not nice, nor do Igenerally have the air of promising more than I can fulfil. 

They were growling together in a corner when Antoine came to draw offmy doublet and my boots. They were still growling when Gilles joined uspresently, although at his coming they paused to take his measure withtheir eyes. For Gilles was something of a giant, and men were wont toturn their heads--aye, and women too--to admire his fine proportions. We supped--so vilely that I have not the heart to tell you what weate--and, having supped, I bade my host light me to my chamber. As formy men, I had determined that they should spend the night in the commonroom, where there was a fire, and where--notwithstanding the companyof those two ruffians, into whose presence I had not troubled toinquire--they would doubtless be better than elsewhere in that poorhostelry. 

In gathering up my cloak and doublet and other effects to bear them offto the kitchen, the host would have possessed himself also of my sword. But with a laugh I took it from him, remarking that it required nodrying. 

As we mounted the stairs, I heard something above me that sounded likethe creaking of a door. The host heard it also, for he stood suddenlystill, his glance very questioning. 

"What was that?" said he. 

"The wind, I should say, " I answered idly; and my answer seemed toreassure him, for with a "Ah, yes--the wind, " he went on. 

Now, for all that I am far from being a man of tremors or unwarrantedfears, to tell the truth the hostelry of the "Star" was beginning tofret my nerves. I could scarce have told you why had you asked me, as Isat upon the bed after mine host had left me, and turned my thoughts toit. It was none of the trivial incidents that had marked my coming; butit was, I think, the combination of them all. First there was the host'sdesire to separate me from my men by suggesting that they should sleepin the hayloft. Clearly unnecessary, when he was not averse to turninghis common room into a dormitory. There was his very evident reliefwhen, after announcing that I would have them sleep one in my room andone in the passage by my door, I consented to their spending the nightbelow; there was the presence of those two very ill-looking cut-throats;there was the attempt to carry off my sword; and, lastly, there was thatcreaking door and the host's note of alarm. 

What was that?

I stood up suddenly. Had my fancy, dwelling upon that very incident, tricked me into believing that a door had creaked again? I listened, buta silence followed, broken only by a drone of voices ascending from thecommon room. As I had assured the host upon the stairs, so I now assuredmyself that it was the wind, the signboard of the inn, perhaps, swayingin the storm. 

And then, when I had almost dismissed my doubts, and was about to divestmyself of my remaining clothes, I saw something at which I thankedHeaven that I had not allowed the landlord to carry off my rapier. Myeyes were on the door, and, as I gazed, I beheld the slow raising of thelatch. It was no delusion; my wits were keen and my eyes sharp; therewas no fear to make me see things that were not. Softly I stepped tothe bed-rail where I had hung my sword by the baldrick, and as softly Iunsheathed it. The door was pushed open, and I caught the advance of astealthy step. A naked foot shot past the edge of the door into my room, and for a second I thought of pinning it to the ground with my rapier;then came a leg, then a half-dressed body surmounted by a face--the faceof Rodenard!

At sight of it, amazement and a hundred suspicions crossed my mind. How, in God's name, came he here, and for what purpose did he steal so intomy chamber?

But my suspicions perished even as they were begotten. There was somomentous, so alarmingly warning a look on his face as he whispered theone word "Monseigneur!" that clearly if danger there was to me it wasnot from him. 

"What the devil--" I began. 

But at the sound of my voice the alarm grew in his eyes. 

"Sh!" he whispered, his finger on his lips. "Be silent, monseigneur, forHeaven's sake!"

Very softly he closed the door; softly, yet painfully, he hobbledforward to my side. 

"There is a plot to murder you, monseigneur, " he whispered. 

"What! Here at Blagnac?"

He nodded fearfully. 

"Bah!" I laughed. "You rave, man. Who was to know that I was to comethis way? And who is there to plot against my life?"

"Monsieur de Saint-Eustache. " he answered. 

"And for the rest, as to expecting you here, they did not, but theywere prepared against the remote chance of your coming. From what I havegathered, there is not a hostelry betwixt this and Lavedan at whichthe Chevalier has not left his cutthroats with the promise of enormousreward to the men who shall kill you. "

I caught my breath at that. My doubts vanished. 

"Tell me what you know, " said I. "Be brief. "

Thereupon this faithful dog, whom I had so sorely beaten but four nightsago, told me how, upon finding himself able to walk once more, he hadgone to seek me out, that he might implore me to forgive him and notcast him off altogether, after a lifetime spent in the service of myfather and of myself. 

He had discovered from Monsieur de Castelroux that I was gone toLavedan, and he determined to follow me thither. He had no horse andlittle money, and so he had set out afoot that very day, and draggedhimself as far as Blagnac, where, however, his strength had given out, and he was forced to halt. A providence it seemed that this hadso befallen. For here at the Etoile he had that evening overheardSaint-Eustache in conversation with those two bravi below stairs. Itwould seem from what he had said that at every hostelry from Grenade toToulouse--at which it was conceivable that I might spend the night--theChevalier had made a similar provision. 

At Blagnac, if I got so far without halting, I must arrive very late, and therefore the Chevalier had bidden his men await me until daylight. He did not believe, however, that I should travel so far, for he hadseen to it that I should find no horses at the posthouses. But it wasjust possible that I might, nevertheless, push on, and Saint-Eustachewould let no possibility be overlooked. Here at Blagnac the landlord, Rodenard informed me, was also in Saint-Eustache's pay. Their intentionwas to stab me as I slept. 

"Monseigneur, " he ended, "knowing what danger awaited you along theroad, I have sat up all night, praying God and His saints that you mightcome this far, and that thus I might warn you. Had I been less bruisedand sore, I had got myself a horse and ridden out to meet you; as itwas, I could but hope and pray that you would reach Blagnac, and that--"

I gathered him into my arms at that, but my embrace drew a groan fromhim, for the poor, faithful knave was very sore. 

"My poor Ganymede!" I murmured, and I was more truly moved to sympathy, I think, than ever I had been in all my selfish life. Hearing hissobriquet, a look of hope gleamed suddenly in his eye. 

"You will take me back, monseigneur?" he pleaded. "You will take meback, will you not? I swear that I will never let my tongue--"

"Sh, my good Ganymede. Not only will I take you back, but I shall striveto make amends for my brutality. Come, my friend, you shall have twentygolden Louis to buy unguents for your poor shoulders. "

"Monseigneur is very good, " he murmured, whereupon I would have embracedhim again but that he shivered and drew back. 

"No, no, monseigneur, " he whispered fearfully. "It is a great honour, but it--it pains me to be touched. "

"Then take the will for the deed. And now for these gentlemen belowstairs. " I rose and moved to the door. 

"Order Gilles to beat their brains out, " was Ganymede's mercifulsuggestion. 

I shook my head. "We might be detained for doing murder. We have noproof yet of their intentions--I think--" An idea flashed suddenlyacross my mind. "Go back to your room, Ganymede, " I bade him. "Lockyourself in, and do not stir until I call you. I do not wish theirsuspicions aroused. "

I opened the door, and as Ganymede obediently slipped past me andvanished down the passage "Monsieur l'Hote, " I called. "Ho, there, Gilles!"

"Monsieur, " answered the landlord. 

"Monseigneur, " replied Gilles; and there came a stir below. 

"Is aught amiss?" the landlord questioned, a note of concern in hisvoice. 

"Amiss?" I echoed peevishly, mincing my words as I uttered them. "Pardi!Must I be put to it to undress myself, whilst those two lazy dogs ofmine are snoring beneath me? Come up this instant, Gilles. And, " I addedas an afterthought, "you had best sleep here in my room. "

"At once, monseigneur, " answered he, but I caught the faintest tingeof surprise in his accents, for never yet had it fallen to the lot ofsturdy, clumsy Gilles to assist me at my toilet. 

The landlord muttered something, and I heard Gilles whispering hisreply. Then the stairs creaked under his heavy tread. 

In my room I told him in half a dozen words what was afoot. For answer, he swore a great oath that the landlord had mulled a stoup of wine forhim, which he never doubted now was drugged. I bade him go below andfetch the wine, telling the landlord that I, too had a fancy for it. 

"But what of Antoine?" he asked. "They will drug him. "

"Let them. We can manage this affair, you and I, without his help. If they did not drug him, they might haply stab him. So that in beingdrugged lies his safety. "

As I bade him so he did, and presently he returned with a great steamingmeasure. This I emptied into a ewer, then returned it to him that hemight take it back to the host with my thanks and our appreciation. Thusshould we give them confidence that the way was clear and smooth forthem. 

Thereafter there befell precisely that which already you will beexpecting, and nothing that you cannot guess. It was perhaps at the endof an hour's silent waiting that one of them came. We had left the doorunbarred so that his entrance was unhampered. But scarce was he withinwhen out of the dark, on either side of him, rose Gilles and I. Beforehe had realized it, he was lifted off his feet and deposited upon thebed without a cry; the only sound being the tinkle of the knife thatdropped from his suddenly unnerved hand. 

On the bed, with Gilles's great knee in his stomach, and Gilles's handsat his throat, he was assured in unequivocal terms that at his slightestoutcry we would make an end of him. I kindled a light. We trussed himhand and foot with the bedclothes, and then, whilst he lay impotent andsilent in his terror, I proceeded to discuss the situation with him. 

I pointed out that we knew that what he had done he had doneat Saint-Eustache's instigation, therefore the true guilt wasSaint-Eustache's and upon him alone the punishment should fall. But erethis could come to pass, he himself must add his testimony to ours--mineand Rodenard's. If he would come to Toulouse and do that make a fullconfession of how he had been set to do this murdering--the Chevalierde Saint-Eustache, who was the real culprit, should be the only one tosuffer the penalty of the law. If he would not do that, why, then, hemust stand the consequences himself--and the consequences would be thehangman. But in either case he was coming to Toulouse in the morning. 

It goes without saying that he was reasonable. I never for a moment heldhis judgment in doubt; there is no loyalty about a cut-throat, and it isnot the way of his calling to take unnecessary risk. 

We had just settled the matter in a mutually agreeable manner when thedoor opened again, and his confederate--rendered uneasy, no doubt, by his long absence--came to see what could be occasioning thisunconscionable delay in the slitting of the throats of a pair ofsleeping men. 

Beholding us there in friendly conclave, and no doubt consideringthat under the circumstances his intrusion was nothing short of animpertinence, that polite gentleman uttered a cry--which I should liketo think was an apology for having disturbed us and turned to go withmost indecorous precipitancy. 

But Gilles took him by the nape of his dirty neck and haled him backinto the room. In less time than it takes me to tell of it, he laybeside his colleague, and was being asked whether he did not think thathe might also come to take the same view of the situation. Overjoyedthat we intended no worse by him, he swore by every saint in thecalendar that he would do our will, that he had reluctantly undertakenthe Chevalier's business, that he was no cut-throat, but a poor man witha wife and children to provide for. 

And that, in short, was how it came to pass that the Chevalier deSaint-Eustache himself, by disposing for my destruction, disposedonly for his own. With these two witnesses, and Rodenard to swear howSaint-Eustache had bribed them to cut my throat, with myself and Gillesto swear how the attempt had been made and frustrated, I could now goto His Majesty with a very full confidence, not only of having theChevalier's accusations, against whomsoever they might be, discredited, but also of sending the Chevalier himself to the gallows he had sorichly earned. 

CHAPTER XXI. LOUIS THE JUST

"For me, " said the King, "these depositions were not necessary. Yourword, my dear Marcel, would have sufficed. For the courts, however, perhaps it is well that you have had them taken; moreover, they forma valuable corroboration of the treason which you lay to the charge ofMonsieur de Saint-Eustache. "

We were standing--at least, La Fosse and I were standing, Louis XIIIsat--in a room, of the Palace of Toulouse, where I had had the honour ofbeing brought before His Majesty. La Fosse was there, because it wouldseem that the King had grown fond of him, and could not be without himsince his coming to Toulouse. 

His Majesty was, as usual, so dull and weary--not even roused by theapproaching trial of Montmorency, which was the main business that hadbrought him South that even the company of this vapid, shallow, butirrepressibly good-humoured La Fosse, with his everlasting mythology, proved a thing desirable. 

"I will see, " said Louis, "that your friend the Chevalier is placedunder arrest at once, and as much for his attempt upon your life as forthe unstable quality of his political opinions, the law shall dealwith him--conclusively. " He sighed. "It always pains me to proceed toextremes against a man of his stamp. To deprive a fool of his head seemsa work of supererogation. "

I inclined my head, and smiled at his pleasantry. Louis the just rarelypermitted himself to jest, and when he did his humour was as like untohumour as water is like unto wine. Still, when a monarch jests, if youare wise, if you have a favour to sue, or a position at Court to seek orto maintain, you smile, for all that the ineptitude of his witless witbe rather provocative of sorrow. 

"Nature needs meddling with at times, " hazarded La Fosse, from behindHis Majesty's chair. "This Saint-Eustache is a sort of Pandora's box, which it is well to close ere--"

"Go to the devil, " said the King shortly. "We are not jesting. We haveto do justice. "

"Ah! Justice, " murmured La Fosse; "I have seen pictures of the lady. She covers her eyes with a bandage, but is less discreet where the otherbeauties of her figure are in question. "

His Majesty blushed. He was above all things a chaste-minded man, modestas a nun. To the immodesty rampant about him he was in the habit ofclosing his eyes and his ears, until the flagrancy or the noise of itgrew to proportions to which he might remain neither blind nor deaf. 

"Monsieur de la Fosse, " said he in an austere voice, "you weary me, andwhen people weary me I send them away--which is one of the reasons whyI am usually so much alone. I beg that you will glance at thathunting-book, so that when I have done with Monsieur de Bardelys you maygive me your impressions of it. "

La Fosse fell back, obedient but unabashed, and, moving to a table bythe window, he opened the book Louis had pointed out. 

"Now, Marcel, while that buffoon prepares to inform me that the book hasbeen inspired by Diana herself, tell me what else you have to tell. "

"Naught else, Sire. "

"How naught? What of this Vicomte de Lavedan. "

"Surely Your Majesty is satisfied that there is no charge--no heedfulcharge against him?"

"Aye, but there is a charge--a very heedful one. And so far you haveafforded me no proofs of his innocence to warrant my sanctioning hisenlargement. "

"I had thought, Sire, that it would be unnecessary to advance proofs ofhis innocence until there were proofs of his guilt to be refuted. Itis unusual, Your Majesty, to apprehend a gentleman so that he may showcause why he did not deserve such apprehension. The more usual courseis to arrest him because there are proofs of his guilt to be preferredagainst him. "

Louis combed his beard pensively, and his melancholy eyes grewthoughtful. 

"A nice point, Marcel, " said he, and he yawned. "A nice point. Youshould have been a lawyer. " Then, with an abrupt change of manner, "Doyou give me your word of honour that he is innocent?" he asked sharply. 

"If Your Majesty's judges offer proof of his guilt, I give you my wordthat I will tear that proof to pieces. "

"That is not an answer. Do you swear his innocence?"

"Do I know what he carries in his conscience?" quoth I still fencingwith the question. "How can I give my word in such a matter? Ah, Sire, it is not for nothing that they call you Louis the Just, " I pursued, adopting cajolery and presenting him with his own favourite phrase. "Youwill never allow a man against whom there is no shred of evidence to beconfined in prison. "

"Is there not?" he questioned. Yet his tone grew gentler. History, hehad promised himself, should know him as Louis the Just, and he woulddo naught that might jeopardize his claim to that proud title. "There isthe evidence of this Saint-Eustache!"

"Would Your Majesty hang a dog upon the word of that double traitor?"

"Hum! You are a great advocate, Marcel. You avoid answering questions;you turn questions aside by counter-questions. " He seemed to be talkingmore to himself than tome. "You are a much better advocate thanthe Vicomte's wife, for instance. She answers questions and has atemper--Ciel! what a temper!"

"You have seen the Vicomtesse?" I exclaimed, and I grew cold withapprehension, knowing as I did the licence of that woman's tongue. 

"Seen her?" he echoed whimsically. "I have seen her, heard her, well-nigh felt her. The air of this room is still disturbed as aconsequence of her presence. She was here an hour ago. "

"And it seemed, " lisped La Fosse, turning from his hunting-book, "as ifthe three daughters of Acheron had quitted the domain of Pluto to takeembodiment in a single woman. "

"I would not have seen her, " the King resumed as though La Fosse had notspoken, "but she would not be denied. I heard her voice blaspheming inthe antechamber when I refused to receive her; there was a commotion atmy door; it was dashed open, and the Swiss who held it was hurledinto my room here as though he had been a mannikin. Dieu! Since I havereigned in France I have not been the centre of so much commotion. Sheis a strong woman, Marcel the saints defend you hereafter, when sheshall come to be your mother-in-law. In all France, I'll swear, hertongue is the only stouter thing than her arm. But she's a fool. "

"What did she say, Sire?" I asked in my anxiety. 

"Say? She swore--Ciel! how she did swear! Not a saint in the calendarwould she let rest in peace; she dragged them all by turns from theirchapter-rolls to bear witness to the truth of what she said. "

"That was--"

"That her husband was the foulest traitor out of hell. But that he was afool with no wit of his own to make him accountable for what he did, andthat out of folly he had gone astray. Upon those grounds she besoughtme to forgive him and let him go. When I told her that he must stand histrial, and that I could offer her but little hope of his acquittal, she told me things about myself, which in my conceit, and thanks to youflatterers who have surrounded me, I had never dreamed. 

"She told me I was ugly, sour-faced, and malformed; that I waspriest-ridden and a fool; unlike my brother, who, she assured me, is amirror of chivalry and manly perfections. She promised me that Heavenshould never receive my soul, though I told my beads from now tillDoomsday, and she prophesied for me a welcome among the damned when mytime comes. What more she might have foretold I cannot say. She weariedme at last, for all her novelty, and I dismissed her--that is to say, "he amended, "I ordered four musketeers to carry her out. God pity you, Marcel, when you become her daughter's husband!"

But I had no heart to enter into his jocularity. This woman with herungovernable passion and her rash tongue had destroyed everything. 

"I see no likelihood of being her daughter's husband, " I answeredmournfully. 

The King looked up, and laughed. "Down on your knees, then, " said he, "and render thanks to Heaven. "

But I shook my head very soberly. "To Your Majesty it is a pleasingcomedy, " said I, "but to me, helas! it is nearer far to tragedy. "

"Come, Marcel, " said he, "may I not laugh a little? One grows so sadwith being King of France! Tell me what vexes you. "

"Mademoiselle de Lavedan has promised that she will marry me only whenI have saved her father from the scaffold. I came to do it, very full ofhope, Sire. But his wife has forestalled me and, seemingly, doomed himirrevocably. "

His glance fell; his countenance resumed its habitual gloom. Then helooked up again, and in the melancholy depths of his eyes I saw a gleamof something that was very like affection. 

"You know that I love you, Marcel, " he said gently. "Were you my own sonI could not love you more. You are a profligate, dissolute knave, andyour scandals have rung in my ears more than once; yet you are differentfrom these other fools, and at least you have never wearied me. To havedone that is to have done something. I would not lose you, Marcel; aslose you I shall if you marry this rose of Languedoc, for I take itthat she is too sweet a flower to let wither in the stale atmosphereof Courts. This man, this Vicomte de Lavedan, has earned his death. Whyshould I not let him die, since if he dies you will not wed?"

"Do you ask me why, Sire?" said I. "Because they call you Louis theJust, and because no king was ever more deserving of the title. "

He winced; he pursed his lips, and shot a glance at La Fosse, who wasdeep in the mysteries of his volume. Then he drew towards him a sheet ofpaper, and, taking a quill, he sat toying with it. 

"Because they call me the Just, I must let justice take its course, " heanswered presently. 

"But, " I objected, with a sudden hope, "the course of justice cannotlead to the headsman in the case of the Vicomte de Lavedan. "

"Why not?" And his solemn eyes met mine across the table. 

"Because he took no active part in the revolt. If he was a traitor, hewas no more than a traitor at heart, and until a man commits a crimein deed he is not amenable to the law's rigour. His wife has made hisdefection clear; but it were unfair to punish him in the same measure asyou punish those who bore arms against you, Sire. "

"Ah!" he pondered. "Well? What more?"

"Is that not enough, Sire?" I cried. My heart beat quickly, and mypulses throbbed with the suspense of that portentous moment. 

He bent his head, dipped his pen and began to write. 

"What punishment would you have me mete out to him?" he asked as hewrote. "Come, Marcel, deal fairly with me, and deal fairly with him--foras you deal with him, so shall I deal with you through him. "

I felt myself paling in my excitement. "There is banishment, Sire--itis usual in cases of treason that are not sufficiently flagrant to bepunished by death. "

"Yes!" He wrote busily. "Banishment for how long, Marcel? For hislifetime?"

"Nay, Sire. That were too long. "

"For my lifetime, then?"

"Again that were too long. "

He raised his eyes and smiled. "Ah! You turn prophet? Well, for howlong, then? Come, man. "

"I should think five years--"

"Five years be it. Say no more. "

He wrote on for a few moments; then he raised the sandbox and sprinkledthe document. 

"Tiens!" he cried, as he dusted it and held it out to me. "There is mywarrant for the disposal of Monsieur le Vicomte Leon de Lavedan. He isto go into banishment for five years, but his estates shall suffer nosequestration, and at the end of that period he may return and enjoythem--we hope with better loyalty than in the past. Get them to executethat warrant at once, and see that the Vicomte starts to-day underescort for Spain. It will also be your warrant to Mademoiselle deLavedan, and will afford proof to her that your mission has beensuccessful. "

"Sire!" I cried. And in my gratitude I could say no more, but I sank onmy knee before him and raised his hand to my lips. 

"There, " said he in a fatherly voice. "Go now, and be happy. "

As I rose, he suddenly put up his hand. 

"Ma foi, I had all but forgotten, so much has Monsieur de Lavedan's fatepreoccupied us. " He picked up another paper from his table, and tossedit to me. It was my note of hand to Chatellerault for my Picardyestates. 

"Chatellerault died this morning, " the King pursued. "He had been askingto see you, but when he was told that you had left Toulouse, he dictateda long confession of his misdeeds, which he sent to me together withthis note of yours. He could not, he wrote, permit his heirs to enjoyyour estates; he had not won them; he had really forfeited his ownstakes, since he had broken the rules of play. He has left me to deliverjudgment in the matter of his own lands passing into your possession. What do you say to it, Marcel?"

It was almost with reluctance that I took up that scrap of paper. It hadbeen so fine and heroic a thing to have cast my wealth to the winds ofheaven for love's sake, that on my soul I was loath to see myself masterof more than Beaugency. Then a compromise suggested itself. 

"The wager, Sire, " said I, "is one that I take shame in having enteredupon; that shame made me eager to pay it, although fully conscious thatI had not lost. But even now, I cannot, in any case, accept the forfeitChatellerault was willing to suffer. Shall we--shall we forget that thewager was ever laid?"

"The decision does you honour. It was what I had hoped from you. Go now, Marcel. I doubt me you are eager. When your love-sickness wanes a littlewe shall hope to see you at Court again. "

I sighed. "Helas, Sire, that would be never. "

"So you said once before, monsieur. It is a foolish spirit upon whichto enter into matrimony; yet--like many follies--a fine one. Adieu, Marcel!"

"Adieu, Sire!"

I had kissed his hands; I had poured forth my thanks; I had reached thedoor already, and he was in the act of turning to La Fosse, when it cameinto my head to glance at the warrant he had given me. He noticed thisand my sudden halt. 

"Is aught amiss?" he asked. 

"You-you have omitted something, Sire, " I ventured, and I returnedto the table. "I am already so grateful that I hesitate to ask anadditional favour. Yet it is but troubling you to add a few strokes ofthe pen, and it will not materially affect the sentence itself. "

He glanced at me, and his brows drew together as he sought to guess mymeaning. 

"Well, man, what is it?" he demanded impatiently. 

"It has occurred to me that this poor Vicomte, in a strange land, alone, among strange faces, missing the loved ones that for so many years hehas seen daily by his side, will be pitiably lonely. "

The King's glance was lifted suddenly to my face. "Must I then banishhis family as well?"

"All of it will not be necessary, Your Majesty. "

For once his eyes lost their melancholy, and as hearty a burst oflaughter as ever I heard from that poor, weary gentleman he vented then. 

"Ciel! what a jester you are! Ah, but I shall miss you!" he cried, as, seizing the pen, he added the word I craved of him. 

"Are you content at last?" he asked, returning the paper to me. 

I glanced at it. The warrant now stipulated that Madame la Vicomtesse deLavedan should bear her husband company in his exile. 

"Sire, you are too good!" I murmured. 

"Tell the officer to whom you entrust the execution of this warrantthat he will find the lady in the guardroom below, where she is beingdetained, pending my pleasure. Did she but know that it was yourpleasure she has been waiting upon, I should tremble for your futurewhen the five years expire. "

CHAPTER XXII. WE UNSADDLE

Mademoiselle held the royal warrant of her father's banishment in herhand. She was pale, and her greeting of me had been timid. I stoodbefore her, and by the door stood Rodenard, whom I had bidden attend me. 

As I had approached Lavedan that day, I had been taken with a great, anoverwhelming shame at the bargain I had driven. I had pondered, and ithad come to me that she had been right to suggest that in matters oflove what is not freely given it is not worth while to take. And out ofmy shame and that conclusion had sprung a new resolve. So that nothingmight weaken it, and lest, after all, the sight of Roxalanne shouldbring me so to desire her that I might be tempted to override mypurpose, I had deemed it well to have the restraint of a witness at ourlast interview. To this end had I bidden Ganymede follow me into thevery salon. 

She read the document to the very end, then her glance was raisedtimidly again to mine, and from me it shifted to Ganymede, stiff at hispost by the door. 

"This was the best that you could do, monsieur?" she asked at last. 

"The very best, mademoiselle, " I answered calmly. "I do not wish tomagnify my service, but it was that or the scaffold. Madame your motherhad, unfortunately, seen the King before me, and she had prejudiced yourfather's case by admitting him to be a traitor. There was a momentwhen in view of that I was almost led to despair. I am glad, however, mademoiselle, that I was so fortunate as to persuade the King to just somuch clemency. "

"And for five years, then, I shall not see my parents. " She sighed, andher distress was very touching. 

"That need not be. Though they may not come to France, it still remainspossible for you to visit them in Spain. "

"True, " she mused; "that will be something--will it not?"

"Assuredly something; under the circumstances, much. "

She sighed again, and for a moment there was silence. 

"Will you not sit, monsieur?" said she at last. She was very quietto-day, this little maid--very quiet and very wondrously subdued. 

"There is scarce the need, " I answered softly; whereupon her eyes wereraised to ask a hundred questions. "You are satisfied with my efforts, mademoiselle?" I inquired. 

"Yes, I am satisfied, monsieur. "

That was the end, I told myself, and involuntarily I also sighed. Still, I made no shift to go. 

"You are satisfied that I--that I have fulfilled what I promised?"

Her eyes were again cast down, and she took a step in the direction ofthe window. 

"But yes. Your promise was to save my father from the scaffold. You havedone so, and I make no doubt you have done as much to reduce the term ofhis banishment as lay within your power. Yes, monsieur, I am satisfiedthat your promise has been well fulfilled. "

Heigho! The resolve that I had formed in coming whispered it in my earthat nothing remained but to withdraw and go my way. Yet not for allthat resolve--not for a hundred such resolves--could I have gone thus. One kindly word, one kindly glance at least would I take to comfort me. I would tell her in plain words of my purpose, and she should see thatthere was still some good, some sense of honour in me, and thus shouldesteem me after I was gone. 

"Ganymede. " said I. 

"Monseigneur?"

"Bid the men mount. "

At that she turned, wonder opening her eyes very wide, and her glancetravelled from me to Rodenard with its unspoken question. But even asshe looked at him he bowed and, turning to do my bidding, left the room. We heard his steps pass with a jingle of spurs across the hall and outinto the courtyard. We heard his raucous voice utter a word of command, and there was a stamping of hoofs, a cramping of harness, and all thebustle of preparation. 

"Why have you ordered your men to mount?" she asked at last. 

"Because my business here is ended, and we are going. "

"Going?" said she. Her eyes were lowered now, but a frown suggestedtheir expression to me. "Going whither?"

"Hence, " I answered. "That for the moment is all that signifies. " Ipaused to swallow something that hindered a clear utterance. Then, "Adieu!" said I, and I abruptly put forth my hand. 

Her glance met mine fearlessly, if puzzled. 

"Do you mean, monsieur, that you are leaving Lavedan--thus?"

"So that I leave, what signifies the manner of my going?"

"But"--the trouble grew in her eyes; her cheeks seemed to wax paler thanthey had been--"but I thought that--that we made a bargain. "

"'Sh! mademoiselle, I implore you, " I cried. "I take shame at thememory of it. Almost as much shame as I take at the memory of that otherbargain which first brought me to Lavedan. The shame of the former oneI have wiped out--although, perchance, you think it not. I am wiping outthe shame of the latter one. It was unworthy in me, mademoiselle, butI loved you so dearly that it seemed to me that no matter how I came byyou, I should rest content if I but won you. I have since seen the errorif it, the injustice of it. I will not take what is not freely given. And so, farewell. "

"I see, I see, " she murmured, and ignored the hand that I held out. "Iam very glad of it, monsieur. "

I withdrew my hand sharply. I took up my hat from the chair on which Ihad cast it. She might have spared me that, I thought. She need nothave professed joy. At least she might have taken my hand and parted inkindness. 

"Adieu, mademoiselle!" I said again, as stiffly as might be, and Iturned towards the door. 

"Monsieur!" she called after me. I halted. 

"Mademoiselle?"

She stood demurely, with eyes downcast and hands folded. "I shall be solonely here. "

I stood still. I seemed to stiffen. My heart gave a mad throb of hope, then seemed to stop. What did she mean? I faced her fully once more, and, I doubt not, I was very pale. Yet lest vanity should befool me, Idared not act upon suspicions. And so "True, mademoiselle, " said I. "Youwill be lonely. I regret it. "

As silence followed, I turned again to the door, and my hopes sank witheach step in that direction. 

"Monsieur!"

Her voice arrested me upon the very threshold. 

"What shall a poor girl do with this great estate upon her hands? Itwill go to ruin without a man to govern it. "

"You must not attempt the task. You must employ an intendant. "

I caught something that sounded oddly like a sob. Could it be? Dieu!could it be, after all? Yet I would not presume. I half turned again, but her voice detained me. It came petulantly now. 

"Monsieur de Bardelys, you have kept your promise nobly. Will you ask nopayment?"

"No, mademoiselle, " I answered very softly; "I can take no payment. "

Her eyes were lifted for a second. Their blue depths seemed dim. Thenthey fell again. 

"Oh, why will you not help me?" she burst out, to add more softly: "Ishall never be happy without you!"

"You mean?" I gasped, retracing a step, and flinging my hat in a corner. 

"That I love you, Marcel--that I want you!"

"And you can forgive--you can forgive?" I cried, as I caught her. 

Her answer was a laugh that bespoke her scorn of everything--ofeverything save us two, of everything save our love. That and the poutof her red lips was her answer. And if the temptation of those lips--Butthere! I grow indiscreet. 

Still holding her, I raised my voice. 

"Ganymede!" I called. 

"Monseigneur?" came his answer through the open window. 

"Bid those knaves dismount and unsaddle. "