shambles. Then I
saw betimes the futility of such a step, and I shrugged my shoulders in
answer to my servant's glance.

I would have spoken to the Vicomte ere he departed, but I was too deeply
chagrined and humiliated by my defeat. So much so that I had no room in
my thoughts even for the very natural conjecture of what Lavedan must be
thinking of me. I repented me then of my rashness in coming to Lavedan
without having seen the King--as Castelroux had counselled me. I had
come indulging vain dreams of a splendid overthrow of Saint-Eustache. I
had thought to shine heroically in Mademoiselle's eyes, and thus I had
hoped that both gratitude for having saved her father and admiration at
the manner in which I had achieved it would predispose her to grant me
a hearing in which I might plead my rehabilitation. Once that were
accorded me, I did not doubt I should prevail.

Now my dream was all dispelled, and my pride had suffered just such a
humiliating fall as the moralists tell us pride must ever suffer. There
seemed little left me but to go hence with lambent tail, like a dog that
has been whipped--my dazzling escort become a mockery but that it served
the more loudly to advertise my true impotency.

As I approached the carriage, the Vicomtesse swept suddenly down the
steps and came towards me with a friendly smile. "Monsieur de Bardelys,"
said she, "we are grateful for your intervention in the cause of that
rebel my husband."

"Madame," I besought her, under my breath, "if you would not totally
destroy him, I beseech you to be cautious. By your leave, I will have my
men refreshed, and thereafter I shall take the road to Toulouse again. I
can only hope that my intervention with the King may bear better fruit."

Although I spoke in a subdued key, Saint-Eustache, who stood near us,
overheard me, as his face very clearly testified.

"Remain here, sir," she replied, with some effusion, "and follow us when
you are rested."

"Follow you?" I inquired. "Do you then go with Monsieur de Lavedan?"

"No, Anne," said the Vicomte politely from the carriage. "It will be
tiring you unnecessarily. You were better advised to remain here until
my return."

I doubt not that the poor Vicomte was more concerned with how she would
tire him than with how the journey might tire her. But the Vicomtesse
was not to be gainsaid. The Chevalier had sneered when the Vicomte spoke
of returning. Madame had caught that sneer, and she swung round u