nd,' he speak, and I do so that. 'Ah, pardon, pardon,
m'sieu',' I say. 'No, no, Voban; it was to be,' he answer. 'We shall
meet again, comrade--eh, if we can?' he speak on, and he turn away from
me and look to the sky through the window. Then he look at his watch,
and get to his feet, and stand there still. I kiss my crucifix. He
reach out and touch it, and bring his fingers to his lips. 'Who can
tell--perhaps--perhaps!' he say. For a little minute--ah, it seem like
a year, and it is so still, so still he stand there, and then he put his
hand over the watch, lift it up, and shut his eyes, as if time is all
done. While you can count ten it is so, and then the great crash come."

For a long time Voban lay silent again. I gave him more cordial, and he
revived and ended his tale. "I am a blunderer, as m'sieu' say," he went
on, "for he is killed, not Bigot and me, and only a little part of the
palace go to pieces. And so they fetch me here, and I wish--my God in
Heaven, I wish I go with M'sieu' Doltaire." But he followed him a little
later.

Two hours afterwards I went to the Intendance, and there I found that
the body of my enemy had been placed in the room where I had last seen
him with Alixe. He lay on the same couch where she had lain. The flag
of France covered his broken body, but his face was untouched--as it
had been in life, haunting, fascinating, though the shifting lights were
gone, the fine eyes closed. A noble peace hid all that was sardonic; not
even Gabord would now have called him "Master Devil." I covered up his
face and left him there--peasant and prince--candles burning at his head
and feet, and the star of Louis on his shattered breast; and I saw him
no more.

All that night I walked the ramparts, thinking, remembering, hoping,
waiting for the morning; and when I saw the light break over those far
eastern parishes, wasted by fire and sword, I set out on a journey to
the Valdoche Hills.

XXX. "WHERE ALL THE LOVERS CAN HIDE"

It was in the saffron light of early morning that I saw it, the Tall
Calvary of the Valdoche Hills.

The night before I had come up through a long valley, overhung with
pines on one side and crimsoning maples on the other, and, travelling
till nearly midnight, had lain down in the hollow of a bank, and
listened to a little river leap over cascades, and, far below, go
prattling on to the greater river in the south. My eyes closed, but for
long I did not sleep. I heard a n