he long library
that his master and he appeared in that visible darkness like two
phantoms.

"Saddle my war-horse instantly, and come with me yourself."

This order was given in a deep tone which roused the man's intelligence.
He raised his eyes to those of his master and encountered so piercing a
look that the effect was that of an electric shock.

"Bertrand," added the count laying his right hand on the servant's
arm, "take off your cuirass, and wear the uniform of a captain of
guerrillas."

"Heavens and earth, monseigneur! What? disguise myself as a Leaguer!
Excuse me, I will obey you; but I would rather be hanged."

The count smiled; then to efface that smile, which contrasted with the
expression of his face, he answered roughly:--

"Choose the strongest horse there is in the stable and follow me. We
shall ride like balls shot from an arquebuse. Be ready when I am ready.
I will ring to let you know."

Bertrand bowed in silence and went away; but when he had gone a few
steps he said to himself, as he listened to the howling of the storm:--

"All the devils are abroad, jarnidieu! I'd have been surprised to
see this one stay quietly in his bed. We took Saint-Lo in just such a
tempest as this."

The count kept in his room a disguise which often served him in his
campaign stratagems. Putting on the shabby buff-coat that looked as
thought it might belong to one of the poor horse-soldiers whose pittance
was so seldom paid by Henri IV., he returned to the room where his wife
was moaning.

"Try to suffer patiently," he said to her. "I will founder my horse if
necessary to bring you speedy relief."

These words were certainly not alarming, and the countess, emboldened by
them, was about to make a request when the count asked her suddenly:--

"Tell me where you keep your masks?"

"My masks!" she replied. "Good God! what do you want to do with them?"

"Where are they?" he repeated, with his usual violence.

"In the chest," she said.

She shuddered when she saw her husband select from among her masks a
"touret de nez," the wearing of which was as common among the ladies of
that time as the wearing of gloves in our day. The count became entirely
unrecognizable after he had put on an old gray felt hat with a broken
cock's feather on his head. He girded round his loins a broad leathern
belt, in which he stuck a dagger, which he did not wear habitually.
These miserable garments gave him so terrifying an air and h