the soldier
returned, and another horseman with him. A priest who had come to the
camp in search of M. de Nid de Merle was willing to trust himself to the
King of Navarre's safe-conduct.

'Thanks, sir,' cried Berenger; 'this is a work of true charity.'

'I think I know that voice,' said the priest.

'The priest of Nissard!'

'Even so, sir. I was seeking M. de Nid de Merle, and had but just learnt
that he had been left behind wounded.'

'You came to tell him of his sister?'

And as they rode together the priest related to Berenger that M. de
Solivet had remained in the same crushed, humiliated mood, not exactly
penitent, but too much disappointed and overpowered with shame to heed
what became of her provided she were not taken back to her brother or
her aunt. She knew that repentance alone was left for her, and permitted
herself to be taken to Lucon, where Mere Monique was the only person
whom she had ever respected. There had no doubt been germs of good
within her, but the crime and intrigue of the siren court of Catherine
de Medicis had choked them; and the first sense of better things had
been awakened by the frank simplicity of the young cousin, while,
nevertheless, jealousy and family tactics had led her to aid in his
destruction, only to learn through her remorse how much she loved him.
And when in his captivity she thought him in her power, but found
him beyond her reach, unhallowed as was her passion, yet still the
contemplation of the virtues of one beloved could not fail to raise her
standard. It was for his truth and purity that she had loved him, even
while striving to degrade these quantities; and when he came forth
from her ordeal unscathed, her worship of him might for a time be more
intense, but when the idol was removed, the excellence she had first
learnt to adore in him might yet lead that adoration up to the source of
all excellence. All she sought NOW was shelter wherein to weep and cower
unseen; but the priest believed that her tears would soon spring from
profound depths of penitence such as often concluded the lives of the
gay ladies of France. Mere Monique had received her tenderly, and the
good priest had gone from Lucon to announce her fate to her aunt and
brother.

At Bellaise he had found the Abbess much scandalized. She had connived
at her niece's releasing the prisoner, for she had acquired too much
regard for him to let him perish under Narcisse's hands, and she had
allowed Veroni