c moved forward as she spoke.
The instinct of protection had given way to something very like the
instinct of attack: her love for the boy was satisfied with a passivity
which could never content her love for the man.

"If I could tell you, I would," he replied courteously, "but I fear
Monsieur La Mothe must ask the King that question himself. I know
nothing beyond my instructions."

"Are your orders in writing?" It was Villon who spoke.

"Yes, but I do not recognize your right to see them."

"My right, then," said La Mothe, "since it is against me they are
directed."

"Certainly; no doubt you can identify the writing."

"I can," answered Ursula, stretching out her hand for the paper which
would have been Beaufoy's passport to promotion but for his unlucky
appetite. But it was withheld in obvious hesitation.

"Remember, mademoiselle, that if it is destroyed, I still have the
means behind me----"

"Oh, monsieur," she interrupted, striking at him with her tongue and
finding a relief in the contempt, "it is easy to see you come from
Valmy."

A sour smile crossed his face as the colour rose at the gibe, but he
only shrugged his shoulders with a little outward gesture of the hands.

"Yes, we grow suspicious in Valmy. There are my instructions,
mademoiselle; you will see they leave me no alternative."

"Yes, the writing is the King's throughout. 'Go to Amboise,'" she
read, "'Arrest Monsieur Stephen La Mothe, and bring him to Valmy
without delay. Tell him his orders are cancelled, and on your life let
him hold no communication with the Dauphin.--LOUIS.'" With every
sentence her voice hardened; spots of colour flecked the pallor of her
cheeks, grew and deepened. "It is vile, infamous, contemptible," she
said, "but it is like your King. Yes! You come from Valmy, there can
be no doubt you come from Valmy. Stephen, I shall speak. Useless?
Perhaps; but I shall speak all the same. Your King has hid spies in
Amboise, we know that, spies who can lie or tell the truth as it suits
their master. Through them the King knows that Monsieur La Mothe has
twice saved the Dauphin at the risk of his own life, and now--now!"
She paused, beating the paper with the back of her hand with a force
that lent her words power and meaning, "now he is to hold no
communication with the Dauphin! Monsieur La Mothe may set his own life
on the hazard to save the Dauphin but he may not speak with him! That
is Valmy gratitude and the