he Chevalier."

"Measure swords with him?" sneeringly. "I believe not."

"There will still remain Monsieur de Saumaise, who, for all his rhymes,
handles a pretty blade."

D'Herouville snapped his fingers. "His death I have already
determined."

"Besides, if I read the Chevalier rightly he will force you. You
laughed too loudly."

"I will laugh again, even more loudly."

"He will strike you . . . even as I did."

D'Herouville spat. "Leave me, Monsieur. My wound may open again, and
that would put me back."

"I advise you to take the air to-day."

"I shall do so."

They were very courtly in those old days.

So D'Herouville went forth to take the air that afternoon and
incidentally to pay his respects in person to Madame de Brissac.
Fortune favored him, for he met her coming down the path from the upper
town. He lifted his hat gravely and barred her path.

"Madame, my delight at seeing you is inexpressible."

Madame's countenance signified that the delight was his alone; she
shared no particle of it. She knew that eventually their paths would
cross again, but she had prepared no plans to meet this certainty. Her
gaze swerved from his and rested longingly on the Henri IV in the
harbor. She had determined to return to France upon it. The amazing
episode of the night before convinced her that her safety lay rather in
France than in Canada. But she had confided this determination to no
one, not even to Anne.

"Have you no welcome, Madame?"

"My husband's friends," she said, "were not always mine; and I see no
reason why you should continue further to address me."

"De Brissac? Bah! I was never his friend."

"So much the more doubt upon your honesty;" and she moved as if to pass.

"Madame, D'Halluys told me this morning that he is determined that you
shall be his wife."

"The vicomte's confidence is altogether too large." She laughed, and
made another ineffectual attempt to pass. "Monsieur, you are detaining
me."

"That is correct. I have much to say to you. In the first place, you
played us all for a pack of fools, and all the while you were carrying
on an intrigue with that fellow who calls himself the Chevalier du
Cevennes."

Madame's lips closed firmly, and a circle of color spotted her cheeks.
There had been times recently when she regretted De Brissac's death.

"What have you to say, Madame?" he demanded.

"To you? Nothing, save that if you do not at once stand aside I shall