le air of languor, as if
the whole were of slight consequence and she really did not care at all
what M. le Comte had been about these five weeks. But as I got into the
affair of the Rue Coupejarrets she forgot her indifference and leaned
forward with burning cheeks, hanging on my words with eager questions.
And when I told her how Lucas had evaded us in the darkness, she cried:

"Blessed Virgin! M. de Mar has enough to contend with in this Lucas,
without Paul de Lorraine, and Brie, and the Duke of Mayenne himself."

I was silent, being of her opinion. Presently she asked reluctantly:

"Does your master think this Lucas a tool of M. de Mayenne's?"

"Yes, mademoiselle. He says secretaries do not plot against dukedoms for
their own pleasure."

"Asassination was not wont to be my cousin Mayenne's way," she said with
an accent of confidence that rang as false as a counterfeit coin. I saw
well enough that mademoiselle did fear, at least, Mayenne's guilt. I
thought I might tell her a little more.

"M. le Comte told me that since his father's coming to Paris M. de
Mayenne made him offers to join the League, and he refused them. So then
M. de Mayenne, seeing himself losing the whole house of St. Quentin,
invented this."

"But it failed. Thank God, it failed! And now he will leave Paris. He
will--he must!"

"He did mean to seek Navarre's camp to-morrow," I answered; "but--"

"But what?"

"But then the letter came."

"But that makes no difference! He must go for all that. The time is over
for trimming. He must stand on one side or the other. I am a Ligueuse
born and bred, and I tell him to go to King Henry. It is his father's
side; it is his side. He cannot stay in Paris another day."

"I do not think he will go, mademoiselle."

"But he must!" she cried with vehemence. "Paris is not safe for him. If
he cannot stand for his wound, he must go. I will send him a letter
myself to tell him he must."

"Then he will never go."

"Felix!"

"He will not. He was going because he thought his lady flouted him; when
he finds she does not--well, if he budges a step out of Paris, I do not
know him. When he thought himself despised--"

"And why did I turn his suit into laughter in the salon if I did not
mean that I despised him? I did it for you to tell him how I made a mock
of him, that he might hate me and keep away from me."

"Oh," I said, "mademoiselle is beyond me; I cannot keep up with her."

"And you believed it! Bu