the command of the troop to me, under
St. Auban. Further, the Marquis has stipulated that the greatest secrecy
is to be observed, and has expressed his purpose of going upon this
enterprise disguised and masked, for--as he rightly opines--when months
hence he enters into possession of the demesne of Canaples in the
character of purchaser, did the Blaisois recognise in him the man who
sold the Chevalier, his life would stand in hourly peril."

I heard him through patiently enough; yet when he stopped, my pent-up
feelings burst all bonds, and I resolved there and then to go in quest
of that Judas, St. Auban, and make an end of his plotting, for all time.
But Montresor restrained me, showing me how futile such a course must
prove, and how I risked losing all chance of aiding those at Canaples.

He was right. First I must warn the Chevalier--afterwards I would deal
with St. Auban.

Someone knocked at that moment, and with the entrance of Michelot, my
talk with Montresor came perforce to an end. For Michelot brought me the
news that for days I had been awaiting; Madame de Chevreuse had returned
to Paris at last.

But for Montresor's remonstrances it is likely that I should have set
out forthwith to wait upon her. I permitted myself, however, to be
persuaded that the lateness of the hour would render my visit unwelcome,
and so I determined in the end--albeit grudgingly--to put off my
departure for Blois until the morrow.

Noon had but struck from Notre Dame, next day, as I mounted the steps
of the Hotel de Luynes. My swagger, and that brave suit of pearl grey
velvet with its silver lace, bore me unchallenged past the gorgeous
suisse, who stood, majestic, in the doorway.

But, for the first mincing lackey I chanced upon, more was needed to
gain me an audience. And so, as I did not choose to speak my name, I
drew a ring from my finger and bade him bear it to the Duchesse.

He obeyed me in this, and presently returning, he bowed low and begged
of me to follow him, for, as I had thought, albeit Madame de Chevreuse
might not know to whom that ring belonged, yet the arms of Luynes carved
upon the stone had sufficed to ensure an interview.

I was ushered into a pretty boudoir, hung in blue and gold, which
overlooked the garden, and wherein, reclining upon a couch, with a
book of Bois Robert's verses in her white and slender hand, I found my
beautiful aunt.

Of this famous lady, who was the cherished friend and more than s