saddle
so that he could lay his hand on my shoulder "we are all men together.
We must be brave. Tears cannot help us, so we should leave them to
the--women."

I cried more passionately at that. Indeed his own voice quavered over
the last word. But in a moment he was talking to me coolly and
quietly. I had muttered something to the effect that the Vidame would
not dare--it would be too public.

"There is no question of daring in it," he replied. "And the more
public it is, the better he will like it. They have dared to take
thousands of lives since yesterday. There is no one to call him to
account since the king--our king forsooth!--has declared every Huguenot
an outlaw, to be killed wherever he be met with. No, when Bezers
disarmed me yonder," he pointed as he spoke to his wound, "I looked of
course for instant death. Anne! I saw blood in his eyes! But he did
not strike."

"Why not?" I asked in suspense.

"I can only guess," Louis answered with a sigh. "He told me that my
life was in his hands, but that he should take it at his own time.
Further that if I would not give my word to go with him without trying
to escape, he would throw me to those howling dogs outside. I gave my
word. We are on the road together. And oh, Anne! yesterday, only
yesterday, at this time I was riding home with Teligny from the Louvre,
where we had been playing at paume with the king! And the world--the
world was very fair."

"I saw you, or rather Croisette did," I muttered as his sorrow--not for
himself, but his friends--forced him to stop. "Yet how, Louis, do you
know that we are going to Cahors?"

"He told me, as we passed through the gates, that he was appointed
Lieutenant-Governor of Quercy to carry out the edict against the
religion. Do you not see, Anne?" my companion added bitterly, "to
kill me at once were too small a revenge for him! He must torture
me--or rather he would if he could--by the pains of anticipation.

"Besides, my execution will so finely open his bed of justice. Bah!"
and Pavannes raised his head proudly, "I fear him not! I fear him not
a jot!"

For a moment he forgot Kit, the loss of his friends, his own doom. He
snapped his fingers in derision of his foe.

But my heart sank miserably. The Vidame's rage I remembered had been
directed rather against my cousin than her lover; and now by the light
of his threats I read Bezers' purpose more clearly than Louis could.
His aim was to punish