have
a word with him first."

I think it did not need the look she gave him to make him regret the
speech. This Lucas was an extraordinary compound of shrewdness and
recklessness, one separating from the other like oil and vinegar in a
sloven's salad. He could plan and toil and wait, to an end, with skill
and fortitude and patience; but he could not govern his own gusty
tempers.

"You have been crying, Lorance," Mayenne said in a softer tone.

"For my sins, monsieur," she answered quickly. "I am grieved most
bitterly to have been the means of bringing this lad into danger. Since
Paul cozened me into doing what I did not understand, and since this is
not the man you wanted but only his servant, will you not let him go
free?"

"Why, my pretty Lorance, I did not mean to harm him," Mayenne protested,
smiling. "I had him flogged for his insolence to you; I thought you
would thank me for it."

"I am never glad over a flogging, monsieur."

"Then why not speak? A word from you and it had stopped."

She flushed red for very shame.

"I was afraid--I knew you vexed with me," she faltered. "Oh, I have done
ill!" She turned to me, silently imploring forgiveness. There was no
need to ask.

"Then you will let him go, monsieur? Alack that I did not speak before!
Thank you, my cousin!"

"Of what did you suspect me? The boy was whipped for a bit of
impertinence to you; I had no cause against him."

My heart leaped up; at the same time I scorned myself for a craven that
I had been overcome by groundless terror.

"Then I have been a goose so to disturb myself," mademoiselle laughed
out in relief. "You do well to rebuke me, cousin. I shall never meddle
in your affairs again."

"That will be wise of you," Mayenne returned. "For I did mean to let the
boy go. But since you have opened his door and let him hear what he
should not, I have no choice but to silence him."

"Monsieur!" she gasped, cowering as from a blow.

"Aye," he said quietly. "I would have let him go. But you have made it
impossible."

Never have I seen so piteous a sight as her face of misery. Had my hands
been free, Mayenne had been startled to find a knife in his heart.

"Never mind, mademoiselle," I cried to her. "You came and wept over me,
and that is worth dying for."

"Monsieur," she cried, recovering herself after the first instant of
consternation, "you are degrading the greatest noble in the land! You,
the head of the house of Lorraine, the ch