Greatly to my
relief, as soon as he obtained distinct view of his unexpected visitor,
he returned the piece carelessly to his shoulder, and leaned back, his
elbow against the arm-rack. He was a good-natured-looking fellow, with
round, boyish face, upon which streamed the full glare of a
swinging-lamp suspended from a chain fastened to an upper beam. His
unsuspicious appearance served greatly to reassure me.

"I give thee peace of Holy Church, my son," I muttered solemnly,
leaning heavily against the jamb of the door, uplifting my hand in
benediction. "May the presence of the Mother and Child guard thee in
time of battle."

The face of the young soldier grew sober, and he withdrew one hand from
its grasp on the shining musket piously to make the sign of the cross.

"I thank thee, _padre_, for thy blessing," he returned gratefully. "It
will be in accord with the prayers of those I left at home in Spain."

Whether or not guards on duty in the corridor had orders to pass the
father unquestioned, this lad, at least, made no effort to prevent my
inserting the great iron key within the lock of the door. Doubtless my
possession of it was accepted as evidence of my right to its use;
anyway he remained there in that same careless posture, a pleased smile
on his face, watching me curiously. The heavy nail-studded door swung
noiselessly ajar; with single questioning glance backward at the
motionless sentry, I stepped within, closed it behind me, and stood, my
heart throbbing fiercely, face to face with her husband--the man to
whom had been given the woman I loved,--Chevalier Charles de Noyan,
condemned to die at sunrise.

CHAPTER VII

THE CHEVALIER DE NOYAN

It seems strange any man should deliberately venture life for one he
had never seen; one whom, moreover, he hated with an intensity of
passion seldom experienced between man and man. I have not been of
revengeful disposition, nor often indulged in grave personal dislike,
yet it would be wrong in this simple narrative for me to attempt
concealment of my own impulses. So it is impossible to deny that, from
the first moment when she called Charles de Noyan husband, I felt
toward him a degree of animosity deeper than I had before supposed it
possible for me to entertain relative to any human being. It was
bitter memory of the past, a belief that I had once won the heart of
this fair girl, only to be balked of reward by spectral hands of
religion, which swaye