scene.

"My shoes! Yes, yes! My sword!" rambled the dying man, in the last
frenzy. "Paul said I should die in bed, alone. No, no! . . . Now,
stand me on my feet . . . that is it! . . . Paul, it is you? Help me!
Take me to her! Margot, Margot? . . . There is my heart, Jehan, the
heart of the marquis. . . . Take me to her? And I thought I dreamed!
Take me to her! . . . Margot?" He was on his knees beside her,
kissing her hands and shuddering, shuddering.

"Margot is dead, Monsieur," said the aged valet. The tears rolled down
his leathery cheeks.

"Margot!" murmured the Chevalier. He had never heard this name before.
What did it mean? "Father?" He came swiftly toward the marquis.

"Dead!" The marquis staggered to his feet without assistance. He
swung dizzily toward the candles on the mantel. He struck them. "Away
with the lights, fools." The candles rolled and sputtered en the
floor. "Away with them, I say!" Toward the table he lurched, avoiding
the Chevalier's arms. From the table he dashed the candles. "Away
with the lights! The Marquis de Perigny shall die as he lived . . . in
the dark!"

He fell upon the bed, his face hidden in the pillows. When the
Chevalier reached his side he was dead.

CHAPTER XXXV

BROTHER!

For two weeks Brother Jacques lay silent on his cot; lay with an apathy
which alarmed the good brothers of the Order. He spoke to no one, and
no sound swerved his dull gaze from the whitewashed ceiling of his
little room in the college. Only one man could solve the mystery of
this apathy, the secret of this insensibility, and his lips were sealed
as securely as the door of a donjon-keep: Jehan. Not even the
Chevalier could gather a single ray of light from the grim old valet.
He was silence itself.

Two weeks, and then Brother Jacques rose, put on his gown and his
rosary and his shovel-shaped hat. The settlers, soldiers, trappers and
seigneurs saw him walk alone, day after day, along the narrow winding
streets, his chin in his collar, his shoulders stooped, his hands
clasped behind his back. It was only when some child asked him for a
blessing that he raised his eyes and smiled. Sometimes the snow beat
down upon him with blinding force and the north winds cut like the lash
of the Flagellants. He heeded not; winter set no chill upon his flesh.
One morning he resolved to go forth upon his expiation. He made up his
pack quietly. Drawn by an irresistible, occ