"Vigo didn't know what had become of you, monsieur," Chariot
volunteered. "The old man wasn't in the best of tempers last night,
after Lucas got away and you gave us the slip, too. He called us all
blockheads and cursed idiots. Things were lively for a time, nom d'un
chien!"

"Eh bien, I am found," M. Etienne returned. "In time we'll get Lucas,
too. Is Monsieur back?"

"No, M. Etienne, not yet."

I think he was half sorry, half glad.

"Where's Vigo?" he demanded.

"Somewhere about. I'll find him for monsieur."

"No, stay at your post. I'll find him."

He went straight across the court and in at the door he had sworn never
again to darken. Humility and repentance might have brought him there,
but it was the hand of mademoiselle drew him over the threshold without
a falter.

Alone in the hall was my little friend Marcel, throwing dice against
himself to while the time away. He sprang up at sight of us, agleam with
excitement.

"Well, Marcel," my master said, "and where is M. l'Ecuyer?"

"I think in the stables, monsieur."

"Bid him come to me in the small cabinet."

He turned with accustomed feet into the room at the end of the hall
where Vigo kept the rolls of the guard. I, knowing it to be my duty to
keep close at hand lest I be wanted, followed. Soon Marcel came flying
back to say Vigo was on his way. M. Etienne thanked him, and he hung
about, longing to pump me, and, in my lord's presence, not quite daring,
till I took him by the shoulders and turned him out. I hate curiosity.

M. Etienne stood behind the table, looking his haughtiest. He was unsure
of a welcome from the contumacious Vigo; I read in his eyes a stern
determination to set this insolent servant in his place.

The big man entered, saluted, came straight over to his young lord's
side, no whit hesitating, and said, as heartily as if there had never
been a hard word between them:

"M. Etienne, I had liefer see you stand here than the king himself."

M. Etienne displayed the funniest face of bafflement. He had been
prepared to lash rudeness or sullenness, to accept, de haut en bas,
shamed contrition. But this easy cordiality took the wind out of his
sails. He stared, and then flushed, and then laughed. And then he held
out his hand, saying simply:

"Thank you, Vigo."

Vigo bent over to kiss it in cheerful ignorance of how that hand had
itched to box his ears.

"What became of you last night, M. Etienne?" he inquired.

"I was hunti