whereas that of my son reflects but little credit upon his
name."

She stamped her foot, and her eyes, blazing with anger, passed from one
to the other of us.

"And you--you believe this man's story?"

"Yvonne!"

"Possibly," I interposed, coolly, "Mademoiselle may have received some
false account of it that justifies her evident unbelief in what I may
have told you."

It is not easy to give a lie unless you can prove it a lie. I made her
realise this, and she bit her lip in vexation. Dame! What a pretty viper
I thought her at that moment!

"Let me add, Yvonne," said her father, "that M. de Luynes and I are
old comrades in arms." Then turning to me--"My daughter, sir, is but
a child, and therefore hasty to pass judgment upon matters beyond
her understanding. Forget this foolish outburst, and remember only my
assurance of an ever cordial welcome."

"With all my heart," I answered, after a moment's deliberation, during
which I had argued that for once I must stifle pride if I would serve
Andrea.

"Ough!" was all Mademoiselle's comment as she turned her back upon me.
Nevertheless, I bowed and flourished my beaver to her retreating figure.

Clearly Mademoiselle entertained for me exactly that degree of
fondness which a pious hermit feels for the devil, and if I might
draw conclusions from what evidences I had had of the strength of
her character and the weakness of her father's, our sojourn at Blois
promised to afford me little delectation. In fact, I foresaw many
difficulties that might lead to disaster should our Paris friends appear
upon the scene--a contingency this that seemed over-imminent.

It was not my wont, howbeit, to brood over the evils that the future
might hold, and to this I owe it that I slept soundly that night in my
room at the Lys de France.

It was a pleasant enough chamber on the first floor, overlooking the
street, and having an alcove attached to it which served for Michelot.

Next day I visited the Chateau de Canaples early in the afternoon. The
weather was milder, and the glow of the sun heralded at last the near
approach of spring and brightened wondrously a landscape that had
yesterday worn so forbidding a look.

This change it must have been that drew the ladies, and Andrea with
them, to walk in the park, where I came upon them as I rode up. Their
laughter rippled merrily and they appeared upon the best of terms until
they espied me. My advent was like a cloud that foretells a s