elf defeated. Your peasants
have more nobility. Etienne, whom you entrusted with the carrying out of
your plan, told me the whole story, and I have sent him safely on his
way on your best horse. Follow not his steps, or the Duke of Guise will
make you feel his iron hand. You have still a few months to live. I
passed the Isle of Demons, and saw your niece's watchfire beckoning me
ashore. I return thither at once. If they are still alive I will come
back and crave the King to mete out to you the punishment you deserve;
if they have perished I will hack you limb from limb. Attempt not to
follow me, or to send your dogs after me, or your days will suddenly be
shortened."

Leaving the nobleman still half-stunned by the stinging blow he had
received, and speechless at the threats he had listened to, especially
at the mention of the Duke of Guise, Charles strode from the castle,
mounted his horse, which awaited him at the gate, and rode away with a
fury which put all chance of pursuit out of the question.

As he rode on with white face and set teeth, no one seeing him would
have thought that the fierce eye and stern expression could have
belonged to the dashing dare-devil, the prince of cavaliers and
duellists, of a year before.

CHAPTER XVI

Autumn came once more to the lonely dwellers on the Isle of Demons.

The dreary time was settling down threateningly; and as they faced the
inevitable months, their hearts sank within them.

The bleak, late September winds again compelled them to spend most of
their time within their hut. Daily through the summer they had watched
for a passing sail, but with the return of autumn they gave up hope, and
made ready as best they could to pass another winter on their island
prison. Their supply of food, although they had husbanded it with the
utmost care, was almost exhausted, and they had now scarcely anything
save fish and fowl.

Yet their wretched surroundings, their hopeless future, only drew them
closer together. They had each other, and that meant everything. They
could scarcely have been said to be actually unhappy, but for one
ever-gnawing anxiety--the state of Claude's health. All summer he had
remained strong and hopeful, but with the first cold weather his cough
returned, and he himself realised that he could never live through the
winter, whose icy breath they could even now feel from the north. He
was to give up the fight sooner than either of them expected; but be