, it was for any lack of love
for you. I swear to you--"

"Nay, you need not. I have it by heart that you love me."

"Lorance!"

"But when you could not take me with honour you would not take me. Your
house stands against us; you would not desert your house. Am I then to
be false to mine?"

"A woman belongs to her husband's house."

"Aye, but she does not wed the enemy of her own. Monsieur, you are full
of loyalty; shall I have none? I was born, my father before me, in the
shadow of the house of Lorraine; the Lorraine princes our kinsmen, our
masters, our friends. When I was orphaned young, and penniless because
King Henry's Huguenots had wrenched our lands away, I came here to my
cousin Mayenne, to dwell here in kindness and love as a daughter of the
house. Am I to turn traitor now?"

"Lorance," he was fiercely beginning, when Mlle. de Tavanne bounded in.

"On guard!" she hissed at us. "They come!"

She looked behind her into the corridor. Mademoiselle gave her lips to
monsieur in one last kiss, and slipped like water from his arms. I was
at his side, and we busied ourselves over the trinkets, he with shaking
fingers, cheeks burning through the stain.

The ladies streamed into the room, the lovely Mme. de Montpensier alone
conspicuous by her absence. Mme. de Mayenne's face was hot and angry,
and bore marks of tears. Not in this room only had a combat raged.

"Never shall he come into this house again," madame was crying
vigorously. "I had had him strangled, the vile little beast, an she had
not seized him. I will now, if she ever dares bring him hither again."

"You certainly should, madame," replied the nearest of the ladies. "You
have been, in the goodness of your heart, far too forbearing, too
patient under many presumptions. One would suppose the mistress here to
be Mme. de Montpensier."

"I will show who is mistress here," the Duchesse de Mayenne retorted.
Then her eye fell on Mlle. de Montluc, making her way softly to the
door, and the vials of her wrath overflowed upon her:

"What, Lorance, you could not be at the pains to follow me to the rescue
of my child! Your little cousin, poor innocent, may be eaten by the
beasts for aught you care, while you prink over trinkets."

Mademoiselle faced her blankly, scarce understanding, midst the whirl of
her own thoughts, of what she was accused. The little Tavanne came
gallantly to the rescue:

"I did not follow you either, madame. We thought it scarcely