e poet or
the Chevalier! Alas, Brother Jacques!

"Victor," said madame, on the return to the palisade, "stay with me as
much as possible. Do not let Cevennes, D'Herouville, or the vicomte
come near me alone."

"Gabrielle, in the old days you were not quite fair to me."

"I know it, Victor; pardon, pardon," pressing his hand. "I am very
unhappy over what I have done." As, indeed, she was.

"Do you love the Chevalier?" he asked, quietly.

"Love him?" The scorn which may be thrown into two words! "Love him,
Victor?" She laughed. "As I love the vicomte; as I love D'Herouville!
Victor, I am proud. Monsieur le Chevalier du Cevennes ground a
portrait of mine under his heel . . . . without so much as a glance at
it. Neither my vanity nor my pride will forgive that."

"He did not know. Had he but glanced at that miniature, he would have
sought you to the ends of the world. Gabrielle, Gabrielle! how could
he help it?"

"If you talk like that, Victor, you will make me cry. I am wretched.
Why did I leave France?"

"I am very curious to know," with a faint smile. "You were to become a
nun?"

"But the sight of those grim walls of the Ursulines!"

"Mademoiselle de Vaudemont intends to enter them."

"She is not frivolous, changeable, inconsistent, like me."

"Nor so lovable!" he whispered.

"What did you say then?" she asked.

"Nothing. I will do what I can to aid you to avoid those you dislike."
And how, with madame here, to keep these three men from killing each
other? He would that morning speak to Du Puys. The soldier might find
a way.

"Victor, what has Monsieur le Chevalier done that he comes to this
land?"

"He and his father had a difference of opinion; that is all I can say."

"But here, in this wilderness! Why not back to Paris, where Mazarin
restored him to favor?"

"Who can explain?"

The day wore on. Madame was very successful in her manoeuvers to keep
out of the way of her persecutors, as she had now come to call them.
They saw her only at the evening meal, seated at a table some distance
from the regular mess; and the presence of the Father Superior kept
them from approaching.

It was a brave meal; the Frenchmen noisy and hungry, the priests
austere and quiet, the Indian converts solemnly impressed by their new
dignity. When the meal was over and the women had repaired to their
cabin for the night. Major du Puys signified that he desired to speak
in private to Messieurs d'