void
Blois. Do not trust the King, nor any king. Do not listen to my uncle
Osorio, and, above all, do not listen to Mariana the Jesuit."

And with a rapid rustle of light garments she was gone. Guise attempted
to take her hand in passing, but it easily evaded him. Valentine
vanished behind the arras, where was a door which led directly to the
women's apartments.

A moment Guise stood pulling at his moustache sourly enough, ruminating
on the warning he had received and, in the sudden disappointment, half
inclined to profit by it. To him entered the Jesuit, smiling and dimpled
as ever.

"My Lord Duke, I find you alone," he began courteously, "this is ill
treatment for an honoured guest. Permit me----"

"That lady," demanded Guise, brusquely, "who is she?"

"The niece of the Marquis Osorio," murmured the Jesuit, "my old scholar,
dear to me as the apple of mine eye, almost a daughter."

"Is she of royal blood?" said Guise, who, though he had to be upon his
manners with Valentine herself, saw no reason for mincing matters with a
mere Jesuit scribbler.

"As to that it were well to consult her uncle," said Mariana, very
softly, "we of the Society do not concern ourselves with matters purely
secular. In any case, be assured that the family honour is quite safe in
the Marquis's hands!"

"I did not doubt it," said Guise, tossing his silken cape over his arm
and evidently about to take flight. Mariana accompanied him to the foot
of the stairs, murmuring commonplaces, how that there would likely be a
thunderstorm which would clear the air, and that he would take it upon
him to make the adieux of his Grace of Guise to the Marquis Osorio, his
good friend and kinsman.

But just at the last he glided in his dart.

"And by the way, we may not see you again, unless you too are going
south. We start to-morrow for the Blois, where the Queen Mother holds
her court. She has written most graciously to the Countess Valentine
offering her hospitality, and the gaiety which young folk love, among
her maids of honour!"

And as he tucked up his soutane in order to remount the stairs, the
Jesuit chuckled to himself. "And that, I think, will do--if so be I know
the blood of the breed of Guise!"

CHAPTER X.

THE GOLDEN DUKE

The river flowed at their right hand, the water blue, the pebbly banks
chased silver, green walls of wood framing the picture, and noble
chateaux looking out here and there.

Almost audibly Claire's he