and upon the last stage of our journey, that I offered Castelroux an
explanation of my seemingly mad attack upon Chatellerault.

"You have done a very rash and unwise thing, monsieur," he had commented
regretfully, and it was in answer to this that I poured out the whole
story. I had determined upon this course while we were supping, for
Castelroux was now my only hope, and as we rode beneath the stars of
that September night I made known to him my true identity.

I told him that Chatellerault knew me, and I informed him that a wager
lay between us--withholding the particulars of its nature--which had
brought me into Languedoc and into the position wherein he had found and
arrested me. At first he hesitated to believe me, but when at last I
had convinced him by the vehemence of my assurances as much as by
the assurances themselves, he expressed such opinions of the Comte de
Chatellerault as made my heart go out to him.

"You see, my dear Castelroux, that you are now my last hope," I said.

"A forlorn one, my poor gentleman!" he groaned.

"Nay, that need not be. My intendant Rodenard and some twenty of my
servants should be somewhere betwixt this and Paris. Let them be sought
for monsieur, and let us pray God that they be still in Languedoc and
may be found in time."

"It shall be done, monsieur, I promise you," he answered me solemnly.
"But I implore you not to hope too much from it. Chatellerault has it in
his power to act promptly, and you may depend that he will waste no time
after what has passed."

"Still, we may have two or three days, and in those days you must do
what you can, my friend."

"You may depend upon me," he promised.

"And meanwhile, Castelroux," said I, "you will say no word of this to
any one."

That assurance also he gave me, and presently the lights of our
destination gleamed out to greet us.

That night I lay in a dank and gloomy cell of the prison of Toulouse,
with never a hope to bear company during those dark, wakeful hours.

A dull rage was in my soul as I thought of my position, for it had not
needed Castelroux's recommendation to restrain me from building false
hopes upon his chances of finding Rodenard and my followers in time
to save me. Some little ray of consolation I culled, perhaps, from my
thoughts of Roxalanne. Out of the gloom of my cell my fancy fashioned
her sweet girl face and stamped it with a look of gentle pity, of
infinite sorrow for me and for the hand she ha