is the boy got to?"

The sun was clean up over the horizon, and as I blinked and wondered
how he had contrived the feat so quickly, my two messieurs came hand in
hand round the corner to me, the level rays glittering on Monsieur's
burnished breastplate, on M. Etienne's bright head, and on both their
shining faces. Now that for the first time I saw them together, I found
them, despite the dark hair and the yellow, the brown eyes and the gray,
wonderfully alike. There was the same carriage, the same cock of the
head, the same smile. If I had not known before, I knew now, the instant
I looked at them, that the quarrel was over. Save as it gave them a
deeper love of each other, it might never have been.

I sprang up, and Monsieur, my duke, embraced me.

"Lucky we came up the lane when we did, eh, Felix?" M. Etienne said.
"But, Monsieur, I have not asked you yet what madness sent you
traversing this back passage at two in the morning."

"I might ask you that, Etienne."

The young man hesitated a bare moment before he answered:

"I am just come from serenading Mlle. de Montluc."

A shade fell over Monsieur's radiance. At his look, M. Etienne cried
out:

"I've told you I'm no Leaguer! Mayenne offered me mademoiselle if I
would come over. I refused. Last night he sent me word that he would
kill me as a common nuisance if I sought to see her. That was why I
tried."

"Monsieur," I cried, curiosity mastering me, "was she in the window?"

He shook his head, his eyes on his father' face.

"Etienne," Monsieur said slowly, "can't you see that Mlle. de Montluc is
not for you?"

"I shall never see it, Monsieur. The first article in my creed says she
is for me. And I'll have her yet, for all Mayenne."

"Then, mordieu, we'll steal her together!"

"You! You'll help me?"

"Why, dear son," Monsieur explained, "it broke my heart to think of you
in the League. I could not bear that my son should help a Spaniard to
the throne of France, or a Lorrainer either. But if it is a question of
stealing the lady--well, I never prosed about prudence yet, thank God!"

M. Etienne, wet-eyed, laughing, hugged Monsieur.

"By St. Quentin, we'll get you your lady! I hated the marriage while I
thought it would make you a Leaguer. I could not see you sacrifice your
honour to a girl's bright eyes. But your life--that is different."

"My life is a little thing."

"No," Monsieur said; "it is a good deal--one's life. But one is not to
guard o