st. "What!"
he said, "spoil the comedy with a death-scene? I am too much of an
artist, Monsieur. I had rather you should live." He went back into
the hut. "The Chevalier grows restive, like an audience which can not
see what is going on behind the curtain. Will you give me a kiss of
your own volition, or must I use force again? It is like sin; the
first step leads to another."

Madame stood passive. She would have killed this man with laughter on
her lips had a knife been in her hand. He came toward her again. She
strove to put the table between. He laughed, leaping the table
lightly. She fled to the door, but ere she had taken a dozen steps he
was in front of her. The Chevalier heard all these sounds. He prayed
to God to end his miseries quickly.

"One more kiss, and we take the river, you and I. We will find some
outcast priest to ease your conscience. The kisses will not be so
fresh after that."

Far away came a call, but the vicomte did not hear it. He was too busy
feasting his eyes. He had forgotten.

"So be it," he said. "This kiss shall last a full breath. Then we
must be on the way."

A shadow darkened the doorway.

"Monsieur, here is a kiss for you, cold with death."

Madame cried out in joy. The vicomte whirled around, with an oath, his
sword in his hand. Victor, pale but serene and confident, stood
between him and freedom.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE ENVOI OF A GALLANT POET

Brother Jacques had done a wise thing. On the morning after the
vicomte's singular confession, he had spoken a few words to the Black
Kettle. From that hour the vicomte made no move that was not under the
vigilant eye of the Onondaga. Wherever he went the Black Kettle
followed with the soundless cunning of his race. Thus he had warned
the settlement of what was going on at the hunting hut. Victor, having
met him on his way up the trail, was first to arrive upon the scene.

"The poet!" said the vicomte airily. He was, with all his lawlessness,
a gallant man. "Did I not prophesy that some day we should be at each
other's throats?"

"Gabrielle," Victor said, "help is close at hand. I can keep this man
at bay. If I should die, Gabrielle . . . you will not forget me?"

"How affecting! I am almost moved to tears!" mocked the vicomte.

"Well, Monsieur, let us go about our work without banter. There is no
edict here, no meddling priests, only you and I. Engage!" Bare-headed
he stood, scarce but