r hooting of the tempest.

"Open the window!" he commanded, standing behind the curtain.

The girl unhasped the brazen hook and looked out. Beneath her a little
crowd of poor people had collected about a woman who was beating with
bleeding hands upon the shut door of the Hotel de Pornic.

"Justice! justice!" cried the woman, her hands clasped and her long
black hair streaming down her shoulders, "give me my child, my little
Pierre. Yester-eve he was enticed into the monster's den by his
servant Poitou, and I shall never see him more! Give me my boy,
murderer! Restore me my son!"

And the answering roar of the people's voices rose through the open
window to the ears of the marshal. "Give the woman her son, Gilles de
Retz!"

At that moment the woman caught sight of Sybilla. Instantly she
changed her tone from entreaty to fierce denunciation.

"Behold the witch, friends, let us tear her to pieces. She is kept
young and beautiful by drinking the blood of children. Throw thyself
down, Jezebel, that the dogs may eat thee in the streets."

And a shout went up from the populace as Sybilla shut to the window,
shuddering at the horrors which surrounded her.

The Marshal de Retz had not moved, watching her face without regarding
the noise outside. Now he went back to his chair, and bending his
slender white fingers together, he looked up at her.

Presently he struck a silver bell by his side three times, and the
mellow sound pervaded the house.

Poitou appeared instantly at the inner door through which the she-wolf
had entered.

"How does it go?" asked the marshal, with his usual careless easy
grace.

"Not well," said Poitou, shaking his head; "that is, rightly up to a
point, and then--all wrong!"

For the first time the countenance of the marshal appeared troubled.

"And I was sure of success this time. We must try them younger. It is
all so near, yet, strangely it escapes us. Well, Poitou, I shall come
in a little when I have finished with this lady. Tell De Sille to
expect me."

Poitou bowed respectfully and was withdrawing, too well trained to
smile or even lift his eyes to where Sybilla stood by the window.

His master appeared to recollect himself.

"A moment, Poitou--there are some troublesome people of the city
rabble at the door. Bid the guard turn out, and thrust them away. Tell
them to strike not too gently with the flats of their swords and the
butts of their spears."

Gilles de Retz listened fo