ol to
use it at all, and I withdraw it."

Count Victor bowed his head. "So," said he. "Perhaps I am too much
Quixote, for I saw her but a few times, and that briefly. She was like
a--like a fine air once heard, not all to be remembered, never wholly to
be forgot. She had a failing, perhaps--the error of undue affection to
qualify her for a sinful world. As it was, she seemed among other women
some rarity out of place--Venus at a lantern feast."

"And ye would send this man to hell that he may find his punishment in
remembering her? If I thought so much of vengeance I would leave him on
the earth forgetting."

"M. le Baron, I make you my compliments of your complacence," said Count
Victor, rising to his feet and desirous to end the discussion. "I
am only Victor de Montaiglon, poorly educated in the forgiveness of
treachery, and lamentably incapable of the nobihty _de cour_ that you
profess. But I can be grateful; and if you give me the hospitality of
your house for a day or two, I shall take care that neither it nor its
owner will be implicated in my little affair. Touching retirement "--he
went on with a smile--"I regret exceedingly an overpowering weariness.
I have travelled since long before dawn, and burning the candle _par
les deux bouts_ is not, as Master Mungo hints, conducive to a vigorous
reception of the Macfarlanes if they feel like retaliating to-morrow,
and making your domicile the victim of my impetuosity and poor
marksmanship."

Doom sighed, took up a candle, and led the way into the passage. A chill
air was in the corridor, that smelled like a cellar underground, and
as their footsteps sounded reverberant upon the flags uncar-peted, Doom
Castle gave the stranger the impression of a vault. Fantastic shadows
danced macabre in the light of the candles; they were the only furniture
of that part of the rough dwelling that the owner shuffled through
as quickly as he could to save his guest from spying too closely the
barrenness of the land. He went first to the outer door with the candle
before he said good night, drew back great bars, and opened the oak. The
sky was studded with pale golden stars; the open air was dense with the
perfume of the wood, the saline indication of the sea-ware. On the rocky
edge of the islet at one part showed the white fringe of the waves now
more peaceful; to the north brooded enormous hills, seen dimly by the
stars, couchant terrors, vague, vast shapes of dolours and alarms. D