d Jack, "I ask your permission to address
Lorraine. I love her."

The marquis stood silent, scarcely breathing.

"You know who and what I am; you probably know what I have. It is
enough for me; it will be enough for us both. I shall work to
make it enough. I do not expect or wish for anything from you for
Lorraine; I do not give it a thought. Lorraine does not love me,
but," and here he spoke with humility, "I believe that she might.
If I win her, will you give her to me?"

"Win her?" repeated the marquis, with an ugly look. The man's
face was changing now, darkening in the morning light.

"Monsieur," he said, violently, "you may say to her what you
please!" and he opened the door and showed Jack the way out.

Dazed, completely mystified, Jack hurried away to find his horse
at the gate where he had left him. The marquis was crazy, that
was certain. These unaccountable moods and passions, following
each other so abruptly, were nothing else but reactions from a
life of silent suffering. All the way back to Morteyn he pondered
on the strange scene in the turret, the repudiation of Lorraine,
the sudden tenderness for himself, and then the apathy, the
suppressed anger, the indifference coupled with unexplainable
emotion.

"No sane man could act like that," he murmured, as he rode into
the Morteyn gate, and, with a smart slap of his hand on Faust's
withers, he sent that intelligent animal at a trot towards the
stables, where a groom awaited him with sponge and bucket.

The gardeners were cleaning up the litter in the roads and paths
left by the retreating army. The road by the gate was marked with
hoof and wheel, but the macadam had not suffered very much, and
already a roller was at work removing furrow and hoof-print.

He entered the dining-room. It was empty. So also was the
breakfast-room, for breakfast had been served an hour before.

He sent for coffee and muffins and made a hasty breakfast,
looking out of the window at times for signs of his aunt and
Lorraine. The maid said that Madame de Morteyn had driven to
Saint-Lys with the marquis, and that Mademoiselle de Nesville had
gone to her room. So he finished his coffee, went to his room,
changed his clothes, and sent a maid to inquire whether Lorraine
would receive him in the small library at the head of the stairs.
The maid returned presently, saying that Mademoiselle de Nesville
would be down in a moment or two, so Jack strolled into the
library and leane