t, I have no
more to say. It is useless." He turned away into the darkness.

That they should part thus was too miserable to be endured. I was sure
Monsieur's question was no accusation, but the groping of bewilderment.

"M. Etienne, stop!" I commanded. "Monsieur, it is the truth. Indeed it
is the truth. He is innocent, and Lucas _is_ a Guise. Monsieur, you must
listen to me. M. Etienne, you must wait. I stirred up the whole trouble
with my story to you, Monsieur, and I take it back. I believed I was
telling the truth. I was wrong. When I left you, I went straight back to
the Rue Coupejarrets to kill your son--your murderer, I thought. And
there I found Grammont and Lucas side by side. We thought them sworn
foes: they were hand in glove. They came at me to end me because I had
told, and M. Etienne saved me. Lucas mocked him to his face because he
had been tricked; Lucas bragged that it was his own scheme--that M.
Etienne was his dupe. Vigo will tell you. Vigo heard him. His scheme
was to saddle M. Etienne with your murder. He was tricked. He believed
what he told me--that the thing was a duel between Lucas and Grammont.
You must believe it, Monsieur!"

M. Etienne, who had actually obeyed me,--me, his lackey,--turned to his
father once again.

"Monsieur, if you cannot believe me, believe Felix. You believed him
when he took away my good name. Believe him now when he restores it."

"Nay," Monsieur cried; "I believe thee, Etienne."

And he took his son in his arms.

XXII

_The signet of the king._

Already a wan light was revealing the round tops of the plum-trees in M.
de Mirabeau's garden, the high gray wall, and the narrow alleyway
beneath it. And the two vague shapes by me were no longer vague shapes,
but were turning moment by moment, as if coming out of an enchantment,
into their true forms. It really was Monsieur in the flesh, with a wet
glint in his eyes as he kissed his boy.

Neither thought of me, and it was none of my concern what they said to
each other. I went a rod or two down the lane, round a curve in the
wall, and watched the bands of light streaking the eastern sky, in utter
content. Never before had the world seemed to me so good a place. Since
this misery had come right, I knew all the rest would; I should yet
dance at M. Etienne's wedding.

I leaned my head back against the wall, and had shut my eyes to consider
the matter more quietly, when I heard my name.

"Felix! Felix! Where