pression of relief. The Marquise stepped back a
pace; idly, one might have thought; not so thought Garnache. It had this
advantage: that it enabled her to stand where he might not watch her
face without turning his head. He was content that such was her motive.
To defeat her object, to show her that he had guessed it, he stepped
back, too, also with that same idleness of air, so that he was once more
in line with her. And then he spoke, addressing Valerie.

"Mademoiselle, that you should have written to the Queen in haste is
deplorable now that your views have undergone this change. I am a stupid
man, mademoiselle, just a blunt soldier with orders to obey and no
authority to think. My orders are to conduct you to Paris. Your will
was not taken into consideration. I know not how the Queen would have me
act, seeing your reluctance; it may be that she would elect to leave you
here, as you desire. But it is not for me to arrogate to determine the
Queen's mind. I can but be guided by her orders, and those orders
leave me no course but one--to ask you, mademoiselle, to make ready
immediately to go with me."

The look of relief that swept into Valerie's face, the little flush
of colour that warmed her cheeks, hitherto so pale, were all the
confirmation that he needed of what he suspected.

"But, monsieur," said Marius, "it must be plain to you that since the
Queen's orders are but a compliance with mademoiselle's wishes, now that
mademoiselle's wishes have altered, so too would Her Majesty's commands
alter to comply with them once more."

"That may be plain to you, monsieur; for me, unfortunately, there are
my orders for only guide," Garnache persisted. "Does not mademoiselle
herself agree with me?"

She was about to speak; her glance had looked eager, her lips had
parted. Then, of a sudden, the little colour faded from her cheeks
again, and she seemed stricken with a silence. Garnache's eyes, directed
in a sidelong glance to the Marquise's face, surprised there a frown
that had prompted that sudden change.

He half-turned, his manner changing suddenly to a freezing civility.

"Madame la Marquise," said he, "I beg with all deference to suggest that
I am not allowed the interview you promised me with Mademoiselle de La
Vauvraye."

The ominous coldness with which he had begun to speak had had a
disturbing effect upon the Dowager; the words he uttered, when she had
weighed them, brought an immense relief. It seemed, then