belief that I had made sport of her love, would not that same belief be
with her again when she came to know the truth?

Aye, the tangle was a grievous one. Yet I took heart. My old resolve
returned to me, and I saw the need for urgency--in that alone could
lie now my redemption in her eyes. My wager must be paid before I again
repaired to her, for all that it should leave me poor indeed. In the
mean while, I prayed God that she might not hear of it ere I returned to
tell her.

CHAPTER XI. THE KING'S COMMISSIONER

For that most amiable of Gascon cadets, Monsieur de Castelroux, I have
naught but the highest praise. In his every dealing with me he revealed
himself so very gallant, generous, and high-minded a gentleman that it
was little short of a pleasure to be his prisoner. He made no inquiries
touching the nature of my interview with those two gentlemen at the
Hotel de la Couronne, and when at the moment of leaving I requested him
to deliver a packet to the taller of those same two he did so without
comment or question. That packet contained the portrait of Mademoiselle
de Marsac, but on the inner wrapper was a note requesting Lesperon not
to open it until he should be in Spain.

Neither Marsac nor Lesperon did I see again before we resumed our
journey to Toulouse.

At the moment of setting out a curious incident occurred. Castelroux's
company of dragoons had ridden into the courtyard as we were mounting.
They lined up under their lieutenant's command, to allow us to pass;
but as we reached the porte-cochere we were delayed for a moment by a
travelling-carriage, entering for relays, and coming, apparently, from
Toulouse. Castelroux and I backed our horses until we were in the midst
of the dragoons, and so we stood while the vehicle passed in. As it
went by, one of the leather curtains was drawn back, and my heart was
quickened by the sight of a pale girl face, with eyes of blue, and brown
curls lying upon the slender neck. Her glance lighted on me, swordless
and in the midst of that company of troopers, and I bowed low upon the
withers of my horse, doffing my hat in distant salutation.

The curtain dropped again, and eclipsed the face of the woman that had
betrayed me. With my mind full of wild surmisings as to what emotions
might have awakened in her upon beholding me, I rode away in silence
at Monsieur de Castelroux's side. Had she experienced any remorse? Any
shame? Whether or not such feelings had bee