after all. Croisette did,
indeed, squeeze through at last, and then by force pulled first one and
then the other of us after him. But only necessity and that chasm
behind could have nerved us, I think, to go through a process so
painful. When I stood, at length on the floor, I seemed to be one
great abrasion from head to foot. And before a lady, too!

But what a joy I felt, nevertheless. A fig for Bezers now. He had
called us boys; and we were boys. But he should yet find that we could
thwart him. It could be scarcely half-an-hour after midnight; we might
still be in time. I stretched myself and trod the level door
jubilantly, and then noticed, while doing so, that our hostess had
retreated to the door and was eyeing us timidly--half-scared.

I advanced to her with my lowest bow--sadly missing my sword. "Madame,"
I said, "I am M. Anne de Caylus, and these are my brothers. And we are
at your service."

"And I," she replied, smiling faintly--I do not know why--"am Madame de
Pavannes, I gratefully accept your offers of service."

"De Pavannes?" I exclaimed, amazed and overjoyed. Madame de Pavannes!
Why, she must be Louis' kinswoman! No doubt she could tell us where he
was lodged, and so rid our task of half its difficulty. Could anything
have fallen out more happily? "You know then M. Louis de Pavannes?" I
continued eagerly.

"Certainly," she answered, smiling with a rare shy sweetness this time.
"Very well indeed. He is my husband."

CHAPTER V.

A PRIEST AND A WOMAN.

"He is my husband!"

The statement was made in the purest innocence; yet never, as may well
be imagined, did words fall with more stunning force. Not one of us
answered or, I believe, moved so much as a limb or an eyelid. We only
stared, wanting time to take in the astonishing meaning of the words,
and then more time to think what they meant to us in particular.

Louis de Pavannes' wife! Louis de Pavannes married! If the statement
were true--and we could not doubt, looking in her face, that at least
she thought she was telling the truth--it meant that we had been fooled
indeed! That we had had this journey for nothing, and run this risk
for a villain. It meant that the Louis de Pavannes who had won our
boyish admiration was the meanest, the vilest of court-gallants. That
Mademoiselle de Caylus had been his sport and plaything. And that we
in trying to be beforehand with Bezers had been striving to save a
scoundrel fr