treets and the horrors through
which he had passed; but for a moment and no more. A shudder, an emotion
of prayerful pity, and he recalled his thoughts. In the quiet of the
cool room, looking on the sunny, vine-clad court, with the tinkle of the
lute and the murmurous sound of women's voices in his ears, it was hard
to believe that the things from which he had emerged were real. It was
still more unpleasant, and as futile, to dwell on them. A day of
reckoning would come, and, if La Tribe were right, the cause would rally,
bristling with pikes and snorting with war-horses, and the blood spilled
in this wicked city would cry aloud for vengeance. But the hour was not
yet. He had lost his mistress, and for that atonement must be exacted.
But in the present another mistress awaited him, and as a man could only
die once, and might die at any minute, so he could only live once, and in
the present. Then _vogue la galere_!

As he roused himself from this brief reverie and fell to wondering how
long he was to be left to himself, a rosebud tossed by an unseen hand
struck him on the breast and dropped to his knees. To seize it and kiss
it gallantly, to spring to his feet and look about him were instinctive
movements. But he could see no one; and, in the hope of surprising the
giver, he stole to the window. The sound of the lute and the distant
tinkle of laughter persisted. The court, save for a page, who lay asleep
on a bench in the gallery, was empty. Tignonville scanned the boy
suspiciously; a male disguise was often adopted by the court ladies, and
if Madame would play a prank on him, this was a thing to be reckoned
with. But a boy it seemed to be, and after a while the young man went
back to his seat.

Even as he sat down, a second flower struck him more sharply in the face,
and this time he darted not to the window but to the door. He opened it
quickly and looked out, but again he was too late.

"I shall catch you presently, _ma reine_!" he murmured tenderly, with
intent to be heard. And he closed the door. But, wiser this time, he
waited with his hand on the latch until he heard the rustling of a skirt,
and saw the line of light at the foot of the door darkened by a shadow.
That moment he flung the door wide, and, clasping the wearer of the skirt
in his arms, kissed her lips before she had time to resist.

Then he fell back as if he had been shot! For the wearer of the skirt,
she whom he had kissed, was Ma