it seems. Besides, I do not compel her. She shall
marry him of her own free will--or else go to Paris and stand her trial
and the consequences."

"They had plighted their troth, do you say?"

"Well--had you not, Monsieur le Seneschal?"

"We had, monsieur," said Tressan, with conscious pride; "and for myself
I am ready for these immediate nuptials."

"Then, in God's name, let Madame give us her answer now. We have not the
day to waste."

She stood looking at him, her toe tapping the ground, her eyes sullenly
angry. And in the end, half-fainting in her great disdain, she consented
to do his will. Paris and the wheel formed too horrible an alternative;
besides, even if that were spared her, there was but a hovel in Touraine
for her, and Tressan, for all his fat ugliness, was wealthy.

So the Abbot, who had lent himself to the mummery of coming there to
read a burial service, made ready now, by order of the Queen's emissary,
to solemnize a wedding.

It was soon done. Fortunio stood sponsor for Tressan, and Garnache
himself insisted upon handing the Lord Seneschal his bride, a stroke
of irony which hurt the proud lady of Condillac more than all her
sufferings of the past half-hour.

When it was over and the Dowager Marquise de Condillac had been
converted into the Comtesse de Tressan, Garnache bade them depart in
peace and at once.

"As I have promised, you shall be spared all prosecution, Monsieur de
Tressan," he assured the Seneschal at parting. "But you must resign at
once the King's Seneschalship of Dauphiny, else will you put me to the
necessity of having you deprived of your office--and that might entail
unpleasant consequences."

They went, madame with bowed head, her stubborn pride broken at last as
the Abbot of Saint Francis had so confidently promised her. After them
went the Abbot and the lackeys of Florimond, and Fortunio went with
these to carry out Garnache's orders that the men of the Dowager's
garrison be sent packing at once, leaving with the Parisian, in the
great hall, just Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye.

CHAPTER XXIV. SAINT MARTIN'S EVE

Uneasy in his mind, seeking some way to tell the thing and acquit
himself of the painful task before him, Garnache took a turn in the
apartment.

Mademoiselle leaned against the table, which was still burdened by the
empty coffin, and observed him. His ponderings were vain; he could find
no way to tell, his story. She had said that she did not exact