Brie--now there is a youngster, Paul," Mayenne interrupted
himself to point out, "who has not a tithe of your cleverness; but he
has the advantage of being on the spot when needed. Desiring a word with
mademoiselle, he betook himself to her chamber. She was not there, but
Mar was warbling under the window."

"Brie?"

"Brie bestirred himself. He sent two of the guard round behind the
house to cut off the retreat, while he and Latour attacked from the
front."

"Mar's killed?" Lucas cried. "He's killed!"

"By no means," answered Mayenne. "He got away."

Before he could explain further,--if he meant to,--the door opened, and
Mlle. de Montluc came in.

Her eyes travelled first to us, in anxiety; then with relief to Mayenne,
sitting over the jewels; last, to Lucas, with startlement. She advanced
without hesitation to the duke.

"I am come, monsieur, to fetch you to supper."

"Pardieu, Lorance!" Mayenne exclaimed, "you show me a different face
from that of dinner-time." Indeed, so she did, for her eyes were shining
with excitement, while the colour that M. Etienne had kissed into them
still flushed her cheeks.

"If I do," she made quick answer, "it is because, the more I think on
it, the surer I grow that my loving cousin will not break my heart."

"I want a word with you, Lorance," Mayenne said quietly.

"As many as you like, monsieur," she replied promptly. "But will you not
send these creatures from the room first?"

"Do you include your cousin Paul in that term?"

"I meant these jewellers. But since you suggest it, perhaps it would be
as well for Paul to go."

"You hear your orders, Paul."

"Aye, I hear and I disobey," Lucas retorted. "Mademoiselle, I take too
much joy in your presence to be willing to leave it."

"Monsieur," she said to the duke, ignoring her cousin Paul with a
coolness that must have maddened him, "will you not dismiss your
tradespeople? Then can we talk comfortably."

"Aye," answered Mayenne, "I will. I am more gallant than Paul. If you
command it, out they go, though I have not half had time to look their
wares over. Here, master jeweller," he addressed M. Etienne, slipping
easily into Italian, "pack up your wares and depart."

M. Etienne, bursting into rapid thanks to his Highness for his
condescension in noticing the dirt of the way, set about his packing.
Mayenne turned to his lovely cousin.

"Now for my word to you, mademoiselle. You wept so last night, it was
impossible t