ene," I cried. "By God, I will! And as for
Saint-Eustache--he was born under a propitious star, indeed, if he
escapes the gallows. He little dreams that I am still to be reckoned
with. There, Castelroux, I will start for Lavedan at once."

Already I was striding to the door, when the Gascon called me back.

"What good will that do?" he asked. "Were it not better first to return
to Toulouse and obtain a counter-warrant from the King?"

There was wisdom in his words--much wisdom. But my blood was afire, and
I was in too hot a haste to reason.

"Return to Toulouse?" I echoed scornfully. "A waste of time, Captain.
No, I will go straight to Lavedan. I need no counter-warrant. I know too
much of this Chevalier's affairs, and my very presence should be enough
to stay his hand. He is as foul a traitor as you'll find in France;
but for the moment God bless him for a very opportune knave. Gilles!" I
called, throwing wide the door. "Gilles!"

"Monseigneur," he answered, hastening to me.

"Put back the carriages and saddle me a horse," I commanded. "And bid
your fellows mount at once and await me in the courtyard. We are not
going to Beaugency, Gilles. We ride north--to Lavedan."

CHAPTER XVIII. SAINT-EUSTACHE IS OBSTINATE

On the occasion of my first visit to Lavedan I had disregarded--or,
rather, Fate had contrived that I should disregard--Chatellerault's
suggestion that I should go with all the panoply of power--with my
followers, my liveries, and my equipages to compose the magnificence
all France had come to associate with my name, and thus dazzle by my
brilliant lustre the lady I was come to win. As you may remember, I had
crept into the chateau like a thief in the night,--wounded, bedraggled,
and of miserable aspect, seeking to provoke compassion rather than
admiration.

Not so now that I made my second visit. I availed myself of all the
splendour to which I owed my title of "Magnificent," and rode into the
courtyard of the Chateau de Lavedan preceded by twenty well-mounted
knaves wearing the gorgeous Saint-Pol liveries of scarlet and gold, with
the Bardelys escutcheon broidered on the breasts of their doublets--on a
field or a bar azure surcharged by three lilies of the field. They
were armed with swords and musketoons, and had more the air of a royal
bodyguard than of a company of attendant servants.

Our coming was in a way well timed. I doubt if we could have stayed the
execution of Saint-Eustache's wa