g expected, had at last been dealt.

"You will marry me, monsieur?" she murmured. "To M. de Brie?"

"You are shrewd, mademoiselle. You know that it will be a good three
months before Francois de Brie can stand up to be wed. You say to
yourself that much may happen in three months. So it may. Therefore will
your bridegroom be at hand to-morrow morning."

She made no rejoinder, but her eyes, wide like a hunted animal's, moved
fearsomely, loathingly, to Lucas. Mayenne uttered an abrupt laugh.

"No; Paul is not the happy man. Besides bungling the St. Quentin affair,
he has seen fit to make free with my name in an enterprise of his own.
Therefore, Paul, you will dance at Lorance's wedding a bachelor.
Mademoiselle, you marry in the morning Senor el Conde del Rondelar y
Saragossa of his Majesty King Philip's court. After dinner you will
depart with your husband for Spain."

Lucas sprang forward, hand on sword, face ablaze with furious protest.
Mayenne, heeding him no more than if he had not been there, rose and
went to Mlle de Montluc.

"Have I your obedience, cousin?"

"You know it, monsieur."

She was curtseying to him when he folded her in his arms, kissing both
her cheeks.

"You are as good as you are lovely, and that says much, ma mie. We will
talk a little more about this after supper. Permit me, mademoiselle."

He took her hand and led her in leisurely fashion out of the room.

It wondered me that Lucas had not killed him. He looked murder. Haply
had the duke disclosed by so much as a quivering eyelid a consciousness
of Lucas's rage, of danger to himself, Lucas had struck him down. But he
walked straight past, clad in his composure as in armour, and Lucas made
no move. I think to stab was the impulse of a moment, gone in a moment.
Instantly he was glad he had not killed the Duke of Mayenne, to be cut
himself into dice by the guard. After the duke was gone, Lucas stood
still a long time, no less furious, but cogitating deeply.

We had gathered up our jewels and locked our box, and stood holding it
between us, waiting our chance to depart. We might have gone a dozen
times during the talking, for none marked us; but M. Etienne, despite my
tuggings, refused to budge so long as mademoiselle was in the room. Now
was he ready enough to go, but hesitated to see if Lucas would not leave
first. That worthy, however, showed no intention of stirring, but
remained in his pose, buried in thought, unaware of our presence.