care of my kinsman Mayenne;
and he has always been to me generous and loving--"

"If not madame," murmured Mile. Blanche to herself.

"--as I in my turn have been loving and obedient. It was only two nights
ago he told me M. de Mar must be as dead to me. Since then I have held
no intercourse with him. Last night he came under my window; I was not
in my chamber, as you know. I knew naught of the affair till M. de Brie
was brought in bleeding. It was not by my will M. de Mar came here--it
was a misery to me. I sent him word by his boy that other night to leave
Paris; I implored him to leave Paris. If, instead, he comes here, he
racks my heart. It is no joy to me, no triumph to me, but a bitter
distress, that any honest gentleman should risk his life in a vain and
empty quest. M. de Mar must go his ways, as I must go mine. Should he
ever make attempt to reach me again, and could I speak to him, I should
tell him just what I have said now to you."

I pressed monsieur's hand in the endeavour to bring him back to sense;
he seemed about to cry out on her. But mademoiselle's earnestness had
drawn all eyes.

"Pshaw, Lorance! banish these tragedy airs!" Mme. de Montpensier
rejoined, her lightness little touched. A wounded bird falls by the
rippling water, but the ripples tinkle on. "M. de Mar is not likely ever
to venture here again; he had too warm a welcome last night. My faith,
he may be dead by this time--dead to all as well as to you. After he
vanished into Ferou's house, no one seems to know what happened. Has
Charles told you, my sister?"

"Ferou gave him up, of course," Mme. de Mayenne answered. "Monsieur has
done what seemed to him proper."

"You are darkly mysterious, sister."

Mme. de Mayenne raised her eyebrows and smiled, as one solemnly pledged
to say no more. She could not, indeed, say more, knowing nothing
whatever about it. Our mademoiselle spoke in a low voice, looking
straight before her:

"If Heaven willed that he escaped last night, I pray he may leave the
city. I pray he may never try to see me more. I pray he may depart
instantly--at once."

"I pray your prayers may be answered, so be it we hear no more of him,"
Mme. de Montpensier retorted, tired of the subject she herself had
started. "He was never tedious himself, M. de Mar, but all this solemn
prating about him is duller than a sermon." She raised a dainty hand
behind which to yawn audibly. "Come, mesdames, let us get back to our
purchases.