nto betraying the
identity he but suspected.

It wanted a few minutes to noon as I left the room in which the old
nobleman was confined, and by the door of which a trooper was stationed,
musket on shoulder. With every pulse a-throbbing at the thought of my
approaching interview with Mademoiselle, I made my way below and out
into the bright sunshine, the soldiers I chanced to meet saluting me as
I passed them.

On the terrace I found Mademoiselle already awaiting me. She was
standing, as often I had seen her stand, with her back turned towards
me and her elbows resting upon the balustrade. But as my step
sounded behind her, she turned, and stood gazing at me with a face so
grief-stricken and pale that I burned to unmask and set her torturing
fears at rest. I doffed my hat and greeted her with a silent bow, which
she contemptuously disregarded.

"My lieutenant tells me, Mademoiselle," said I in my counterfeited
voice, "that it is your desire to bear Monsieur your father company upon
this journey of his to Paris."

"With your permission, sir," she answered in a choking voice.

"It is a matter for consideration, Mademoiselle," I pursued. "There are
in it many features that may have escaped you, and which I shall discuss
with you if you will honour me by stepping into the garden below."

"Why will not the terrace serve?"

"Because I may have that to say which I would not have overheard."

She knit her brows and stared at me as though she would penetrate the
black cloth that hid my face. At last she shrugged her shoulders, and
letting her arms fall to her side in a gesture of helplessness and
resignation--

"Soit; I will go with you," was all she said.

Side by side we went down the steps as a pair of lovers might have
gone, save that her face was white and drawn, and that her eyes looked
straight before her, and never once, until we reached the gravel
path below, at her companion. Side by side we walked along one of the
rose-bordered alleys, until at length I stopped.

"Mademoiselle," I said, speaking in the natural tones of that
good-for-naught Gaston de Luynes, "I have already decided, and you have
my permission to accompany your father."

At the sound of my voice she started, and with her left hand clutching
at the region of her heart, she stood, her head thrust forward, and on
her face the look of one who is confronted with some awful doubt. That
look was brief, however, and swift to replace it was one of