THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE
 
 CONQUERORS ALL
 
 CONQUERORS 
 ALL 
 
 BASED ON FACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCENA HILL HIGGINS 
 
 "All the world s a stage, 
 And all the men and women merely players: 
 They have their exits and their entrances; 
 And one man in his time plays many parts, 
 His acts being seven ages." 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 Published by 
 
 THE GNOSTIC PRESS 
 
 San Diego, Cal. 
 1917
 
 Copyright, 1917 
 
 by* 
 FRANCENA HILL HIGGINS 
 
 San Diego, Cal.
 
 ?$ 
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 H. R. L. 
 
 ^ friend for many a long year, who, 
 having passed beyond the borderland, 
 sees, with clearer vision, the many 
 things we could not understand. He it 
 was who ever strove to encourage me 
 in my efforts, and of this book, espe 
 cially, held not a doubt as to its merit. 
 
 "In the daily lives of men he felt an 
 interest deep and strong for those who 
 suffered from the world s great wrongs. 
 In argument clear, in friendship ever 
 true, he lived his life, leaving in the 
 hearts of those who knew him, the 
 surety of an honest friend." 
 
 Frank. 
 
 967657
 
 Contents 
 
 XIX. 
 
 xx. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE LANDING 9 
 
 THE SPIES 18 
 
 A DUEL AND AN ABDUCTION 27 
 
 THE RESCUE 38 
 
 AT THE SILVER MOON 47 
 
 NEW FRIENDS 57 
 
 THE HOSPITALITY OF THE HOUSE OF 
 
 D EPERNON 68 
 
 ON THROUGH TROUBLOUS PICARDY 77 
 
 WELL IN THE ENEMY S COUNTRY. . 86 
 
 A DANGER AVERTED 94 
 
 THE STORM 103 
 
 PLANS THWARTED 112 
 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE 118 
 
 THE CHATEAU DES CLERES 126 
 
 SIMON DELIVERS UP His TRUST. ... 131 
 
 THE GOLDEN MESHES OF LOVE. . . . 138 
 
 A PERILOUS JOURNEY UNDERTAKEN 145 
 AN ORDEAL PASSED AND PARIS 
 
 REACHED 153 
 
 A COWARD S THREAT 160 
 
 THE FLIGHT 166 
 
 THE "QUEEN S CABINET" 173 
 
 AN ENFORCED JOURNEY AND A 
 
 TIMELY RETURN. . 182
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 XXIII. THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT 192 
 
 XXIV. THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS 200 
 
 XXV. A DELAY AND A DISTURBANCE 210 
 
 XXVI. A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE 217 
 
 XXVII. ON THE TRAIL 224 
 
 XXVIII. TIDINGS OF HOPE 232 
 
 XXIX. AN UNEXPECTED WARNING AND A 
 
 PROFFER OF PROTECTION 241 
 
 XXX. L ESCALIER DU DlABLE 251 
 
 XXXI. THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER 
 
 PARIS 264 
 
 XXXII. A JOYOUS OCCASION AND AN UN 
 TIMELY INTERRUPTION 280 
 
 XXXIII. THE SURPRISING SOLUTION OF A 
 
 PERPLEXING PROBLEM. . . 293
 
 CONQUERORS ALL 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE LANDING 
 
 "Take, O, take those lips away." 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 In crossing the channel from Southampton to 
 France, Lady Beatrice had proved a better 
 sailor than even her father. Though adverse 
 winds had made the passage more than usually 
 rough and tempestuous, she was as fresh and 
 sparkling when they landed at a small fishing 
 hamlet near the mouth of the Somme as a 
 flower wet with dew. 
 
 Bess was less fortunate than her young mis 
 tress. The roses in her cheeks had faded; yet, 
 when chatting with Robert of Derwater, she 
 seemed to forget the motion of the vessel. 
 
 Before The Lively, on which they sailed, had 
 reached the Somme, the earl with his retainers, 
 and Bess stout yeoman, were put ashore that 
 no time might be lost in joining the king at 
 Harfleur. It had been arranged that Lady 
 Beatrice should push rapidly forward to her 
 grand-dame s, the Duchess of Berry, who was 
 expecting her at the great castle near Agincourt. 
 Here she was to remain until her father s return 
 to England. On the road she was to be the 
 special charge of old Simon, a trusty henchman 
 
 9
 
 10 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 of Wotton, who had been born on the estate, as 
 had been four generations before him. The 
 earl had great respect for his sterling honesty, 
 his courage in battle, while he knew that every 
 dependence could be placed on his devotion to 
 Lady Beatrice. It was Simon who had taught 
 her to ride till the most fiery or vicious horse 
 could not unseat her. From him she had learned 
 many a cunning trick of fence, and could use 
 the shortbow or pistol as well as himself. He 
 experienced as much pride while teaching her 
 as though she were to be the heir instead of the 
 heiress of Wotton. 
 
 The earl had left his daughter in the old 
 henchman s care, confident of his ability to pro 
 tect her, while from among his followers he had 
 picked out six of his best men. They were 
 dressed in ;simple homespun and, like their 
 leader, were well armed. Simon was naturally 
 wary and fully realized, not only the great 
 trust confided to his care, but the imperative 
 necessity of constant watchfulness. The Prov 
 ince of Picardy, through which they must jour 
 ney, was comparatively well known to him. 
 Lady Beatrice, who was self-reliant and fear 
 less, was delighted with the thought that her 
 only female attendant would be Bess. This 
 black-eyed brier had also been born on the 
 estate, and was considered by her young mis 
 tress full as much a companion as maid. 
 
 The Earl of Wotton was scarce twenty-eight 
 when his Countess died, leaving him but one 
 child, a dainty maiden of ten. Long and earn-
 
 THE LANDING 11 
 
 estly he thought of his high-spirited daughter 
 till, at last, he decided to bring to Wotton Miss- 
 tress Montrose, a middle-aged relative. Among 
 other things, this estimable spinster did not 
 approve of her young charge being so much with 
 old Simon. If she could have had her way, the 
 education of Lady Beatrice would have con 
 sisted of those housewifely duties and accom 
 plishments which, to the mind of Miss Mont- 
 rose, every true gentlewoman should acquire. 
 
 The earl s intention was to have Mistress 
 Montrose accompany his daughter to France, 
 but at the last moment she pleaded illness, hav 
 ing an overmastering fear of the channel. 
 
 Lady Beatrice s novel surroundings, since 
 leaving the ship, had awakened a lively inter 
 est. Even the little inn at which they break 
 fasted was so new and strange that she scarcely 
 took time to eat. Spitfire, her black palfrey, 
 had been sent ashore at daylight and when, after 
 a hasty meal, Simon led her to the door, Lady 
 Beatrice ran to her, uttering many a word of 
 endearment as she fed her with lumps of sugar. 
 
 A half hour later the whole party was well 
 started on their journey. It was a beautiful 
 morning, the sky soft and blue, with here and 
 there gossamer clouds, pinkish-white, which, as 
 they floated hither and thither, Lady Beatrice 
 likened to the white wings of angels. The sun, 
 at first tempered by a filmy haze, through which 
 it scintillated, at last shone forth brilliantly 
 resplendent. The air was clear and crisp, laden 
 now and then with the sweet perfume of wine
 
 12 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 and fruit, or the delicate aroma of the woods. 
 She could feel her pulses throb and beat with 
 new life as she inhaled the sweet fragrances 
 around her. Bess shared in her enjoyment; the 
 color had returned to her cheeks; once again 
 she had resumed her old jaunty manner. Though 
 a good horsewoman, having been taught at Wot- 
 ton, she was yet not as daring as her young 
 mistress. 
 
 Quite a distance had been covered when, at 
 noon, they dismounted for luncheon which 
 Simon s forethought had provided. It was evi 
 dent that the horses, too, needed rest: all were 
 tired and hungry. 
 
 Lady Beatrice was much surprised at the 
 loneliness of the road over which they had 
 come; she had seen no one, with the exception 
 of a few dirty children near a tumble-down hut. 
 Not till they had turned a bend in the road, 
 just before dismounting, had either she or Simon 
 caught sight of a large chateau on a high hill 
 to the left. This the noonday sun brought into 
 bold relief against its dark background of ever 
 greens. 
 
 "My lady," said Simon, "it might be well for 
 us to get under shelter as speedily as possible. 
 Yonder is a chateau, and we know not who may 
 pass along the road. Do you not hear the 
 trickle of a brook? We will picket the horses 
 well beneath the shade of trees." 
 
 "As you will, Simon. I care not how deep 
 we go into the forest, for the sun hath been o er
 
 THE LANDING 13 
 
 warm on my back. Come, Bess, let us search 
 for the stream." 
 
 "But, Lady Beatrice, do you think it safe to 
 press onward so fast? Had we not better wait 
 for Simon to come up?" 
 
 "For Simon! I should think, Bess, you had 
 never before strolled in the woods. What! are 
 you af eared of your shadow? Yonder is a 
 sunny glade and, if I mistake not, the brook of 
 which Simon spoke, gurgles through it. There s 
 where I intend to have my noonday meal. I 
 am glad to get this hot mask from my face, and 
 to breathe something besides dust. Hasten! I 
 have heard neither of giants nor of lions in the 
 forests of France. 
 
 "Is not this a delightful spot ! Look, how the 
 sunbeams fleck those leaves, turning them to 
 copper. See how limpid the stream ! Fill me a 
 cup with its sparkling water, then wet a napkin, 
 that I may bathe my face and hands." 
 
 "But, my lady, if you expose your face in the 
 open air, you will spoil your complexion: that 
 would be a pity." 
 
 "Do you think, Bess, I intend to go without 
 bathing until I reach my grand-dame s?" 
 
 "No, Lady Beatrice. But surely you will stay 
 at an inn this night?" 
 
 "I do not know as to that, Bess. If the 
 horses can hold out, after a rest, I see no reason 
 why at dusk we should not press on. My 
 father was desirous I should not tarry longer 
 on the road than I need." 
 
 Just then Simon joined them where they were
 
 14 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 sitting beneath the shade of a wide-spreading 
 beech. With him were Andrew and Saul bear 
 ing between them well filled saddle-bags. Bess 
 laid on the green moss a square of fine napery, 
 upon which she neatly arranged a substantial 
 meal. Lady Beatrice, with well sharpened 
 appetite, greatly enjoyed her cold capon. 
 
 "Sit down, Bess : sit down and help yourself. 
 It is not a question of the length of our table 
 you are below the salt. By my faith ! It is you 
 who could improve your complexion were you to 
 wash your face! What say you to that, Bess?" 
 
 "Say, my lady? No doubt the water might 
 feel cool and pleasant, but if advice is worth 
 giving, it is worth following." 
 
 "As you will, Bess: yet it might be well, 
 advice or no advice. One would think it July, 
 instead of early September. I could find plea 
 sure in watching the lights and shades through 
 these tall trees, and in listening to the babbling 
 of this little brook for hours, were not the 
 road so long before us. See, how the sun 
 beams dance like sportive sprites through that 
 dark hemlock. Look at that striped bug with 
 its rainbow gossamer wings tipped with gold. 
 This is a veritable fairy grotto. I could imagine 
 the little folk tripping many a fantastic measure 
 over this green velvety moss, neath the witch 
 ing light of the lustrous moon. It makes me 
 think of England; of that bosky dell in the 
 Wotton forest, where we had that merry time 
 last June. 
 
 "Do you remember when Sir Harry Hastings
 
 THE LANDING 15 
 
 paid you that pretty compliment, without think 
 ing that I heard him? Do not blush, Bess. No 
 one could blame him for taking a kiss off so 
 rosy a cheek as yours. Poor man! He did not 
 know what an elfish temper you have. It was 
 fun for me to ask him what made his right 
 cheek look so red. He e en had the grace to 
 blush when I asked, Hath the sun burned your 
 face? Did you not see how he brought his 
 brows together when I offered him my silver 
 mirror? That was a stinging blow you dealt 
 him, for across the red of his face were white 
 welts, showing the imprint of your fingers. Has 
 he tried it since?" 
 
 "No, my lady; I am not so cheap that I can 
 be kissed by every man who comes along, be he 
 gentle or yeoman." 
 
 "But if I mistake not, Bess, Robert of Der- 
 water s arm was around your waist last evening 
 and, to judge by the sound, I should say it was 
 not your cheek, but your lips he kissed. May 
 hap my ears were overstrained, for the report 
 to me came not single, but as though you 
 returned it in full measure yet not with your 
 hand. 
 
 "Canst tell me how it seems to be in love? 
 Do you have burning pains about your heart? 
 sharp stitches in your side? shortness of breath? 
 You see, I would like to know the symptoms, 
 lest little Cupid fly his arrow at me and take me 
 unawares. I have made up my mind never to 
 love, still I would not let that stand in the way
 
 16 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 of others loving me. Do you not think that a 
 wise plan?" 
 
 "Yes, my lady, if you can. But if you meet 
 the right one you will not ask whether you love, 
 for, like a spark to tow, the fire will be set 
 ablaze in your heart at least, that s what 
 mother told me." 
 
 "Your mother, Bess? Art sure it was your 
 mother? But here comes Simon to put an end 
 to our merry chatter: we must prepare for the 
 road. Tie on my mask firmly, for fear I spoil 
 that complexion of mine." 
 
 "Yes, my lady: and I, too, will wear a mask. 
 It was foolish in me not to have worn it this 
 morn." 
 
 "Laugh on, Lady Beatrice. I like to hear 
 you. It makes me think of Silvern Falls, where 
 the water drips into the basin that your good 
 father calls My Lady s Bowl. 
 
 "Thanks, Bess, for your flattery; although 
 tis too sweet to be true, I shall not forget so 
 pretty a compliment. Why, t is more sugared 
 than Sir Harry Hastings lips." 
 
 A merry laugh followed this sally as she said, 
 turning to Simon, who had just stepped into the 
 glade : 
 
 "Are you here to tell us the horses are wait 
 ing, O Protector of Maids?" 
 
 "Yes, my lady. They were bridled a half 
 hour ago." 
 
 "Then, why did you not tell me?" 
 "Because, my lady, Jock espied, leaving the 
 chateau yonder, armed men bearing a banner:
 
 THE LANDING 17 
 
 I have been watching to see whither they would 
 turn. Although the troop has filed to the left, 
 it still behooves us to use caution. Peradventure 
 we had better turn from the main road, riding 
 back to the one which bears through the woods 
 to the south. Both Andrew and Saul say that, 
 though it be narrow, it leads to a broader road 
 farther on." 
 
 "Let it be as you will, Simon. I am in your 
 charge and will, therefore, follow your lead."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SPIES 
 
 "I have peppered two." 
 Henry IV. 
 
 On turning into the cross-road, which was 
 so narrow as to be a mere bridle-path, they 
 were obliged to ride in single file. Two of the 
 men, Andrew and Saul, had been sent by the 
 old henchman to act as scouts. 
 
 "Take every precaution," he had said warn- 
 ingly, "lest the horsemen, whom we saw riding 
 away from the chateau, should have turned into 
 the wood road." 
 
 When all were mounted Simon took the lead. 
 Close at his horse s heels rode Lady Beatrice, 
 followed by Bess, while bringing up the rear 
 were Jock and his comrades. The long roots 
 of trees, often projecting above the ground, as 
 well as the thickets of brier roses which caught 
 at their clothing, obliged them to proceed 
 slowly. More than once Simon was forced to 
 hold up the branches which interlaced from side 
 to side, that he might pass beneath them. At 
 such times, Lady Beatrice and Bess bent almost 
 to their horses necks,, to prevent their faces 
 being whipped by the twigs and vines as they 
 dropped back into place. Scarcely a ray of sun 
 shine penetrated the dense foliage, while the 
 twilight dimness and strange noises made Bess 
 18
 
 THE SPIES 19 
 
 heart quake. Once Spitfire grew restive and 
 backed, showing plainly that her keener instinct 
 warned her of danger : but a few words from 
 her young mistress, a gentle caress of her sleek 
 neck, induced her to pass the dense thicket to 
 which she had shown such marked objection. 
 Lady Beatrice, peering into the gloom, failed to 
 see the pair of wolfish eyes which were watch 
 ing her intently. The great beads of sweat 
 beneath her hand told her that something 
 uncanny was lurking near them. Their progress 
 was necessarily slow. At last, when Simon 
 turned, motioning them to halt, Bess would have 
 asked a question had not his imperative gesture 
 stayed the words upon her lips. 
 
 Silently dismounting, he stole forward with 
 stealthy tread, like a hunter stalking game, leav 
 ing the others to wonder why such excessive pre 
 caution was needful. Even his horse seemed to 
 realize the necessity for absolute quiet. Ere 
 long Lady Beatrice heard a low murmur, fol 
 lowed by the soft thud of horses feet. This 
 gradually grew louder and, mingling with the 
 voices of men, came the jangle of stirrup against 
 spur, of sword and holster. The question which 
 Bess wished to ask was answered. Jock and 
 his companions half cocked their pistols, for it 
 seemed, while waiting and listening, that there 
 must be at least a hundred horsemen crossing 
 the bridle-path. The scraps of conversation 
 which they overheard were in French, unintel 
 ligible to Bess and the men, but to Lady Beatrice 
 her mother s native tongue had ever come as
 
 20 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 naturally as song to the robin. She gathered by 
 what was said that they were on their way to a 
 larger force massing at a given point, though 
 she could not catch where this was. Certain 
 detached words made her think it near her des 
 tination. It occurred to her that Simon under 
 stood French, and that his proximity to the 
 horsemen woulcT materially aid him in compre 
 hending the situation. Time dragged so slowly 
 that she grew impatient, wondering what had 
 happened to detain him. The French tempera 
 ment, which she had inherited from her mother, 
 had often made her long for adventure. She 
 had almost decided to push on, when Simon 
 appeared, stepping so noiselessly that she was 
 unaware of his presence until he touched her 
 hand. Before she could speak, he put his 
 finger to his lips, saying in a voice scarcely 
 audible : 
 
 "Hush, my lady! A French count with ten 
 men have halted not a bowshot beyond this 
 path and are listening intently. Fearing you 
 would become impatient, I crept back to warn 
 you. A voice, the neigh of a horse, or even 
 the loud crackling of a twig, would at once 
 bring them upon us. 
 
 "By my troth !" he muttered savagely, "would 
 that I could teach these French frog-eaters a 
 lesson! I warrant they would not soon for 
 get it." 
 
 Then, impressing upon the others that their 
 lives depended on their silence, he disappeared 
 as quietly as he had come. Scarcely was he lost
 
 THE SPIES 21 
 
 in the gloom before he returned to whisper an 
 order to Jock and his comrade, Adam, when 
 he again stole from sight. 
 
 The two men dismounted and, with cautious 
 steps and bated breath, made their way back 
 over the path by which they had come, while to 
 Lady Beatrice and Bess it seemed as though 
 danger was creeping in from every side. Jock 
 took the lead. He had not gone more than half 
 the distance when his keen ear detected the cat 
 like tread of softly creeping feet. Motioning 
 his comrade to hide behind a thicket at the left, 
 he advanced a little farther down the path 
 before concealing himself behind a tree at the 
 right. More and more distinct grew the foot 
 steps; more and more watchful grew Jock and 
 Adam. 
 
 Simon had warned them, should they find 
 spies advancing, on no account to use their 
 good strong blades. Jock was a man of far 
 greater intelligence than his comrade, and rea 
 lized that on him depended their success or 
 failure. The footsteps were drawing very near. 
 Already he could see the dim, shadowy outline 
 of one man, and behind him, more faintly, 
 another. As the question, Are there more? 
 flashed through his mind, the foremost came 
 abreast of the tree behind which he stood and, 
 with the step of a born hunter, passed on. He 
 was nearing Adam when the second man 
 appeared. To Jock s infinite relief, there were 
 only these two. 
 
 It had been understood that Adam was to
 
 22 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 attack the first man from behind, while he faced 
 the other. Jock waited with bated breath. As 
 he saw the flash of Adam s blade, he faced his 
 man, sword in hand and, without warning, 
 lunged. Swiftly the stranger drew his blade. 
 More quickly still Jock slashed at his wrist, 
 almost severing it. He caught the sound of 
 the man falling behind him and wondered if 
 Adam had killed him. 
 
 Jock realized that he had no mean antago 
 nist. His opponent had quickly caught his 
 sword before it could fall. The length of its 
 blade gave him a great advantage over Jock, 
 even though it was wielded by his left hand. 
 Each man knew that death waited for one or 
 the other: each was determined, in this struggle, 
 neither to give nor ask quarter. Simon s warn 
 ing kept ringing in Jock s ears; otherwise he 
 would have drawn his pistol. 
 
 Both men fiercely parried and thrust: bright 
 sparks flew as blade rang against blade: each 
 was doing his best to tire the other. Short and 
 sharp grew the breath of Jock s antagonist, 
 upon whose face, made ghastly by its pallor, 
 was an expression of unflinching resolution. A 
 glinting ray of sunshine brought out each linea 
 ment as well as every play of his gleaming 
 sword. Jock realized that it was fortunate for 
 him his opponent had no longer the use of his 
 right hand. 
 
 The man before him changed his tierce. More 
 and more rapid became each thrust. Every 
 feint, every trick of fence at his command was
 
 THE SPIES 23 
 
 brought into more subtle play. His strength 
 was fast waning. He grew desperate, losing 
 the wariness which he had previously shown. 
 Jock s skill was tried to the utmost to ward off 
 the long keen blade. At last he saw his opponent 
 reel. Then, with a dexterous thrust, followed 
 by an upward twist of the wrist, a trick learned 
 from Simon, he sent the stranger s sword flying 
 backward onto the path. Again Jock lunged 
 with his good stout blade, hoping to reach the 
 heart of his antagonist before he could draw 
 from his holster, but swiftly the other staved it 
 off with the butt of his pistol, which he then 
 cocked. Before he could press the trigger t Jock, 
 with a well aimed blow, struck it from his hand. 
 His opponent swayed. Jock thrust straight at 
 his heart, but missed it. Instead, the point of 
 his sword entered below the ear. With a deep 
 groan, the fearless Frenchman fell dead at his 
 feet. 
 
 It was with a feeling akin to pity that Jock 
 looked down on the spy. He and Adam lifted 
 the men out of the path and covered them with 
 underbrush. Jock took care that no trace 
 should remain of what had taken place. After 
 cleansing their hands and clothing as best they 
 could, they crept cautiously to where Lady 
 Beatrice and Bess were waiting. 
 
 Once more Simon rejoined them. Again the 
 little party was in motion, but they did not 
 advance. Instead, each horse was noiselessly 
 turned to retrace the path over which they had 
 come so short a time before. Jock, in order to
 
 24 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 take the lead, exchanged his horse for that of 
 Red Dick, while Simon brought up the rear. 
 Lady Beatrice wondered what next? But 
 though words trembled on her lips, she 
 restrained them. Simon had told Jock to ride 
 slowly unless he should hear the Frenchmen in 
 pursuit, then to lose no time. He had left 
 Andrew and Saul on guard in the thicket, with 
 instructions where to rejoin him. In case the 
 horsemen struck into the path, they had been 
 cautioned to make no move until they were well 
 on their way, then to harrow their rear. Should 
 they be discovered, Simon had bidden them to 
 keep the Frenchmen at bay as long as possible. 
 
 When the order came to turn back, Jock felt 
 relieved to think he had left no trace of their 
 recent encounter to shock Lady Beatrice, and 
 still more that his horse, as well as those of 
 Bess and his comrades, had passed by the spot 
 where the bodies of the men were concealed, 
 without show of fear. He was about to thank 
 his lucky stars that they were not pursued when 
 a low ejaculation from Adam made him look 
 around. Imagine his consternation when he 
 caught sight of Spitfire, trembling, quivering, 
 head up, alert, ears stiffened, listening; eyes 
 brilliantly shining, the red of her nostrils like 
 coals of fire in the semi-darkness. There she 
 stood, her forelegs firmly braced, the embodi 
 ment of instinctive fear and stubborn resistance, 
 utterly refusing to pass the pile of underbrush 
 where they had hidden the bodies of the spies ! 
 Lady Beatrice smoothed Spitfire s glossy neck,
 
 THE SPIES 25 
 
 whispering many a coaxing word in her ear, all 
 to no purpose. Simon hastily dismounted and, 
 taking the trembling animal by the bit, half led, 
 half dragged her to where Red Dick sat with 
 gaping mouth, watching. But the mischief was 
 done. Spitfire whinnied shrilly. 
 
 Jock stiffened his knees, bracing his feet in the 
 stirrup. He knew what the result would be. 
 He drove the sharp rowel of his spur into his 
 horse: it dashed forward. Reaching the road, 
 he drew to the left and motioned his comrades 
 to fall in behind. Lady Beatrice, hearing the 
 sharp clash of steel, knew that Adam and Saul 
 were doing their best to delay pursuit. Simon 
 struck Bess genet with the flat of his sword, to 
 hasten her pace. Then he shouted, as he fol 
 lowed her from the path : 
 
 "Nathan, you and Adam come with me! 
 Jock, you and Red Dick keep the French at 
 bay! Let us push on," he cried to Lady Beat 
 rice : " tis now we must show them a clean pair 
 of heels!" 
 
 For a short distance they rode away from the 
 chateau, then bending to the right, made what 
 speed they could considering the roughness of 
 the road. Coming to a level stretch they fairly 
 flew, their horses hoofs striking out sparks as 
 they tore on and on. 
 
 Bess and the men could hardly keep pace with 
 Spitfire and the great bay which Simon bestrode, 
 though they did their best: yet their horses, wet 
 with lather, foam dripping from their mouths, 
 showed plainly how great had been the strain.
 
 26 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 At last Simon turned sharply to the left into a 
 broad wood road where, wishing to ascertain 
 whether they were pursued, he bade them draw 
 rein. 
 
 "Adam," said he, "creep cautiously under 
 cover of the trees beyond yonder bend, and see 
 if there are signs of our comrades." 
 
 He had scarcely given the order when a loud 
 clatter was heard. To his practiced ear came 
 the hoof beats of three horses : that there were 
 no more he was certain. Thud, thud, thud, 
 came the sound, as though they were being 
 urged to their utmost. They had not turned 
 the bend and Adam could not see without cross 
 ing the road whether the riders were friends or 
 foes. Simon hesitated: he was uncertain whether 
 to press on, or to wait until he could determine 
 who was riding with such reckless speed. 
 
 "My lady," he said earnestly, "it were better 
 for you and the lass to push forward: you, 
 Nathan, go with your mistress. T will not be 
 long before I am with you." 
 
 As Lady Beatrice delayed, he exclaimed with 
 some irritation: 
 
 "On, my lady. On!" 
 
 For the moment, Simon had forgotten that 
 she was not a little maid.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A DUEL AND AN ABDUCTION 
 
 "I know a trick worth two of that." 
 Henry IV. 
 
 Around a curve came four horsemen at break 
 neck speed. Simon felt relief when he saw that 
 Jock was their leader. This was but natural: 
 he was the old henchman s son. 
 
 Close at his horse s heels were Andrew and 
 Saul, while in sharp pursuit rode the French 
 Count. Simon s keen sense of hearing detected 
 others following. When Jock reached the wood 
 road, he drew rein near his father. Before 
 Andrew and Saul could turn horses the Count, 
 reckless of consequences, was upon them. Adam, 
 as he passed Jock, exclaimed excitedly: 
 
 "More are coming: there be six on the way!" 
 
 Simon was anxious, for Lady Beatrice 
 weighed upon his mind. He asked himself 
 doubtfully if he could put dependence upon 
 Nathan? Yet, how could he spare another man, 
 when the Count s retainers numbered more than 
 his? Still, action with him was ever twin sister 
 to thought Quick and sharp came his orders 
 to Jock. Simon had made up his mind to a bold 
 course. If successful, it would not only relieve 
 him from the further pursuit of the Count, but 
 it would amuse the Earl, and who knew but that 
 
 27
 
 28 
 
 King Hal might hear of it? These thoughts 
 brought a grim smile to Simon s face. 
 
 Jock, quick to carry out his father s plan, 
 drew Andrew and Saul to one side. The Count 
 gave no heed to this move, though he found him 
 self cut off from his men. He was face to face 
 with Simon and Adam one man against two. 
 Still, he was undaunted, his bearing fearless. 
 A resolute expression was on his face. With 
 sword unsheathed and rein tightly gripped, he 
 rode at the old henchman. In the meantime, 
 Adam had joined Jock. 
 
 Simon was cool and alert. He met the shock 
 of the spirited onset with steadfast courage. 
 It was his intention, if possible, to disarm the 
 Count, who was a young man scarce thirty, and 
 a Frenchman to boot. The Count was all dash 
 and fire and lacked Simon s self-command. The 
 impetuous rush of the Frenchman s out-flashing 
 sword was dexterously parried by Simon. 
 Backing their horses, they both took firmer grip 
 of rein and sword. The lust of battle was upon 
 them. The Count had all the confidence of a 
 Frenchman : Simon, that of one who had fought 
 at Poitiers. The upward thrust, the sharp quick 
 lunge, the tierce, the parry, were made by each 
 as though grand masters of the trick of fence. 
 
 Once more each horse was drawn back, only 
 to be dashed again with greater fury at the 
 other. Simon s eyes had lost none of their 
 keenness. His wrists were like steel; the mag 
 nificent bay and his master might have been a 
 Centaur of old. The Count s adroitness, quick-
 
 A DUEL AND AN ABDUCTION 29 
 
 ness of thought and suppleness stood him in 
 good stead. Both men were superb horsemen, 
 and each was equally determined that his skill 
 should prevail. Their swords, as they crossed 
 each other, rang out sharp and clear, followed 
 by a more sibilant tone as blade slid along blade. 
 Eye to eye, knee to knee, their breaths coming 
 faster and faster, they parried and thrust. 
 Simon s resolve was to take the Frenchman a 
 prisoner, while the Count s thought was to 
 mortally wound the grim old man. The time 
 had come for Simon s coup-de-grace. On it he 
 staked his success. Before the Count, who mis 
 took his play, could rally, the point of the old 
 henchman s blade had entered his right shoul 
 der. Then, with a swift downward stroke, 
 which took him off guard, Simon sent the Count s 
 sword with a swirl into the thicket. In the 
 fraction of a second, the Count drew his pistol, 
 but before he could raise the hammer a sharp 
 blow with the flat of Simon s blade struck it 
 from his hand, sending it spinning to the ground. 
 
 The trees completely shut off the two com 
 batants. Although the Count s men could not 
 see him, they heard his battle-cry: 
 
 "For Mont Joie and Saint Denis!" 
 
 This put new life into them. Loud rang their 
 shouts : 
 
 "Five le, vive le d Epernon! A has, a bas, 
 les Anglais!" as they rode pell-mell at Jock 
 and his comrades. 
 
 Swift as had been their onset, more rapid 
 still was their retreat. Jock s orders were car-
 
 30 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 ried out to the letter. His men stood the shock 
 of the oncoming horses like veterans. Simul 
 taneously every trigger fell with a click, 
 emptying three of the saddles. Out rang their 
 cheers, and their answering cries : 
 
 "For Saint George and Wotten ! Down with 
 the Frenchmen!" 
 
 This time they led the charge. 
 
 Their opponents rallied. Nerve and muscle 
 were strained to the utmost. With glittering 
 blades and teeth tight shut they fought more 
 like devils than men. In the end the English 
 were victorious. Jock received a deep flesh 
 wound in his left arm, while Andrew and Saul 
 had fared but little better. Adam had been 
 more fortunate : he was unscratched. As they 
 were busily binding their wounds, Jock was cer 
 tain he heard the hoofbeats of his missing gray 
 stallion. He had been unhorsed at the bridle 
 path, while endeavoring to keep the Frenchmen 
 at bay. In the press of the melee and the rush 
 of the Count, he was separated from Nathan. 
 Seeing a riderless horse, he had sprung into the 
 saddle and with a rallying cry drew off his men. 
 
 The Count had ridden up the road, thinking, 
 no doubt, that it was the right direction. Seeing 
 his mistake, he turned hot-foot in pursuit. This 
 had given Andrew and Saul a chance to join 
 Jock. But where was Red Dick? 
 
 With a throb of great pleasure, Jock saw 
 that he had made no mistake. Around the 
 bend, with Dick on his back, pounded the gray 
 stallion, his long mane and tail flaunting like
 
 A DUEL AND AN ABDUCTION 31 
 
 banners. With powerful stride and neck proudly 
 arched, ears pointed, erect, eyes brilliantly 
 shining, on he came rushing like a tumultuous 
 river; broad chested, clean limbed, red nostrils 
 dilated; foam-flecked, creating a picture force 
 ful, dominant. 
 
 It was not until the brave Frenchman had 
 been deprived of his sword and pistol, and 
 Simon had exclaimed imperatively: 
 
 "Yield, Sir Count!" that he awakened to the 
 consciousness that it was the only course left 
 him. He had heard the victorious cries of the 
 English and knew that his men must have been 
 overcome. For a moment, the Count s pride 
 rose in arms : then, realizing his situation, he 
 replied, with true French politeness: 
 
 "At your mercy, mon Anglais. Will you 
 accept a ransom?" 
 
 "No, Sir Count. I have but little time to 
 talk of ransom. I will return you your sword 
 and pistol if you will give your word not to use 
 them gainst me and my men, at least until you 
 learn what our good King Hal would do with 
 you." 
 
 The Count, seeing no alternative, reluctantly 
 agreed to this proposal. 
 
 "Now, my lord," said Simon, "let us ride 
 forward as rapidly as may be. Ahead is my 
 mistress, Lady Beatrice Wotton." 
 
 The red blood mounted to the Count s olive 
 cheek. 
 
 "Ma foil" he exclaimed, "I would rather
 
 32 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 meet your lady in any other guise than that of 
 prisoner or her husband, the Earl of 
 Wotton." 
 
 Simon did not think it worth while to correct 
 this mistake. The old henchman put spurs to 
 his horse; Jock and his comrades followed. 
 
 "This surely cannot be your first visit to 
 Picardy," said the Count, "if one ma"y judge by 
 your knowledge of the roads." 
 
 "No, my lord, neither the first nor the 
 second." 
 
 "Why are you not with the King? I hear 
 he is hammering hard at the gates of Harfleur." 
 
 "For the best of reasons, my lord. I am 
 acting as escort to my lady." 
 
 "You said as much before," answered the 
 Count with a smile. "Would it be indiscreet 
 to ask your destination?" 
 
 "No, Sir Count. It is a good bit from here 
 to the castle near Agincourt" 
 
 "These are perilous times for an English 
 man to be traveling in France," said the Count 
 suggestively, "even as escort to a lady." 
 
 "I know that, my lord: but what Englishman 
 gives thought to peril so long as he has his good 
 blade and bestrides a mettlesome horse?" 
 
 "Yet, my man, it would seem to me wiser had 
 your lady waited her lord s return in England." 
 
 "That was not the opinion of the Earl," 
 replied Simon curtly. 
 
 "I presume not, or the Countess would not 
 be here. But is it not strange we do not over 
 take her?"
 
 A DUEL AND AN ABDUCTION 33 
 
 "No, I think not, my lord. My lady is a 
 good horsewoman and enjoys a brisk canter. 
 The soft moss of this road has doubtless 
 tempted her." 
 
 They dropped into silence. Simon felt a 
 creeping dread, a presentment of coming ill. 
 Where could Lady Beatrice be? Surely she 
 could not have lost her way. Was not the road 
 straight before her? Thus far he had come 
 to no other. 
 
 "By your leave, my lord," said Simon, "we 
 will ride faster. See, the sun is setting." 
 
 He was loath to acknowledge his forebodings. 
 
 Faster and faster they pressed forward. The 
 trees arched overhead, making a soft grayish 
 gloom. Here and there in an open glade, the 
 afterglow transmitted great shafts of crimson 
 light till branch and leaf seemed bathed in 
 blood. On, and still on they rode, hearing no 
 sounds but those of nature unless it were the 
 muffled thud of their own horses feet. Simon 
 could no longer conceal his anxiety. The way 
 had been long that he and the Count had ridden 
 together, expecting each moment to overtake 
 Lady Beatrice. He had not questioned but at 
 some bend in the road he should find his young 
 mistress impatiently waiting. As the shadows 
 grew deeper he asked the Count: 
 
 "Can you tell me how much farther through 
 the forest this road extends and if there are 
 cross-cuts near at hand?" 
 
 "Oui, monsieur, as this land is mine I know 
 not only the length of the road but am familiar
 
 34 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 with every path. Already we have ridden two- 
 thirds of the way. If we turn to the right two 
 leagues beyond here, it will lead us to the Abbe 
 ville Highway." 
 
 "No doubt there," said Simon with a sigh of 
 relief, "I shall find my lady waiting." 
 
 Night had fallen when, with unslackened 
 speed, they reached the cross-road of which 
 the Count had spoken. 
 
 "Halt!" exclaimed Simon. "Lady Beatrice! 
 Lady Beatrice!" he cried loudly. But receiving 
 no response, in great disappointment he hastily 
 dismounted. Down on his knees he dropped to 
 examine the turf. By the tremulous light of the 
 moon shining through the interlaced branches, 
 he saw the prints of horses feet, many in num 
 ber. He scrutinized the moss closely, perceiv 
 ing indications of a struggle in which both 
 English and French had been engaged. This 
 he was easily enabled to determine, for the 
 style of shoeing on either side of the channel 
 greatly differed. His keen eye quickly detected 
 the hoof prints he was seeking. Once again in 
 the saddle he cried, with a muttered curse : 
 
 "Turn to the left, men! I can see my lady 
 hath been forced away by a large band of horse 
 men." 
 
 "It is possible, monsieur" explained the 
 Frenchman, "that the Countess has met with 
 one of those marauding bands which at present 
 infest the forests of France. It is, alas, too 
 true that, in the disturbed state of the country, 
 travelers have but little protection."
 
 A DUEL AND AN ABDUCTION 35 
 
 "Look!" suddenly exclaimed Jock. "Is not 
 that a piece of a kirtle on yonder bush?" 
 
 "Yes, my lad," replied Simon: "your eye is 
 keener than mine. Hand it to me. By my 
 troth, the lass knows what she s about. It 
 belongs to Bess. See ! it was torn in haste." 
 
 "How is that, father? To me it seems but a 
 piece of colored woolen." 
 
 "The ragged edge, Jock, should tell you it 
 was torn, while the long threads hanging show 
 it was done in haste. But ride, lad, ride ! Spare 
 not the spur. Who knows what indignities my 
 lady may be suffering!" 
 
 Then turning to the others, he cried sharply : 
 
 "Spare not the spur. To the rescue ! To the 
 rescue!" 
 
 On, on they galloped, faster, still faster, their 
 jaded steeds responding with new vigor to the 
 tightened rein and touch of spur, as though 
 instinctively realizing the great need of speed. 
 The way grew darker, the thick foliage shutting 
 out the light of the moon. To the old hench 
 man, the last words of the Earl of Wotton 
 seemed to be repeating themselves over and 
 over: 
 
 "I trust her to you, Simon, without fear for 
 her safety, for well I know she is almost as dear 
 to you as to me." 
 
 Then and there Simon made up his mind that 
 if aught happened to his young lady, he would 
 never again face the Earl. Yet he did not give 
 up heart, for he was made of sterner stuff. A 
 look of unyielding purpose came into his face,
 
 36 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 a hard light to his eyes, which boded no good to 
 those who had borne away his beloved young 
 mistress. He showed no mercy to his horse 
 nor, for that matter, to himself, but pushed 
 onward with knee and spur, determined to over 
 take the party. They rode in this manner for 
 over an hour, then Simon s sagacious bay gave 
 warning of danger by stopping short in the road. 
 It was then that the soft splash of water was 
 heard then a man s laugh ! 
 
 They were on the outskirts of a large glen, a 
 beautiful spot; for a moment even Simon s inar 
 tistic eye was held spellbound by a miniature 
 waterfall. In the white radiance of the moon 
 it looked like opalescent gauze as it rippled and 
 dripped into a mirror-like pool. Around were 
 drooping willows and stately poplars on which 
 the flickering moonbeams left notes of silver. 
 
 His party was in the shadow made by the 
 overhanging trees. Jock dismounted : his father 
 whispered a short, hurried order. One by one 
 the horses were led quietly back into the forest 
 and there tethered. Jock bade Adam keep a 
 sharp look-out that they might eat their supper 
 undisturbed. 
 
 "My lord," he said, bringing a saddle-bag to 
 where the Count sat, "you are welcome to such 
 as we have. It is but plain food, but I ve heard 
 say that Hunger s a good sauce, and I wot it 
 will satisfy you even as well as better fare." 
 
 Bidding the men eat, so as to be ready for the 
 road, he caught up a large slice of bread and a
 
 A DUEL AND AN ABDUCTION 37 
 
 tall pewter mug which he filled with red wine, 
 and hurried to his father. 
 
 Simon had been reconnoitering and had found 
 five horses in addition to those of Lady Beatrice 
 and her attendants. After tersely explaining to 
 Jock the plan he had formed, he bade Jock 
 picket Spitfire and the other two horses with 
 their own. 
 
 "Then, my lad," said Simon, "when the men 
 have tethered those of the robbers where they 
 cannot be easily found, hasten back to me."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE RESCUE 
 
 "One woman is fair, yet I am well ; another is wise, yet 
 I am well, but till all graces be in one woman, one woman 
 shall not come in my grace." 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing. 
 
 Everything had been done as Simon directed. 
 Fortunately, when Jock went for Spitfire, one of 
 the robbers began lustily to sing a drinking song. 
 Simon heard the indignant remonstrances of the 
 outlaws at the loud tones of their comrade. 
 They might as well have expected to stay the 
 downward force of the mountain torrent, leap 
 ing from crag to crag. Much to Jock s satis 
 faction, like the muttering of thunder, still 
 rumbled the deep bass voice. Simon took ad 
 vantage of the singing to creep nearer. The 
 opening of the half cave, half hut, was hidden 
 so naturally with thicket and vine, that had not 
 his great bay, Ajax, refused to go farther, he 
 would have passed it in the darkness. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, shut up!" cried one of the rob 
 bers. "If we had not sent the rest of our com 
 pany to act as decoy, your blating would have 
 brought the English dogs upon us." 
 
 "Sacre, yes, Henri!" exclaimed a tenor voice. 
 "Cease your bawling, Jean." 
 
 "If you do not," growled the third, "trente- 
 38
 
 THE RESCUE 39 
 
 mille-diables, I ll thrust this bottle into your red 
 maw!" 
 
 "That s all right, Plac,on, if it only be the 
 nose of the bottle, but look out that it s full of 
 Burgundy." 
 
 "Mon Dieuf" exclaimed Henri, "had you 
 been one of King John s troops, you would have 
 got enough Burgundy to last a lifetime !" 
 
 "Haw, haw, Henri, that ish goot, wery goot. 
 You do make Karl Heifner laugh, haw, haw, 
 haw ! So you think Jean s palate unt von great 
 tongue might be minus if he had been wit John 
 of Burgundy? Mein Himmelf it be lucky if 
 you are not heard, Jean, in Abbeville." 
 
 "Come," said Placon, "let s toss up and see 
 to whose lot will fall the black-eyed maid." 
 
 "Not I," replied Jean, bringing his song to 
 a sudden finish. "She is my lawful prey!" 
 
 "Have a bottle, Jean," laughed Henri; 
 "that s enough for you. Take another pull to 
 whet your whistle." 
 
 "The lady will bring us a ransom worth 
 having," said another, "for she s a de Berry!" 
 
 "How know you that, Paul?" 
 
 "From her own sweet lips, Henri. When I 
 asked her for a kiss, she said, as though she 
 were the Queen of Sheba herself, Dare but 
 touch me with your little finger and my grand- 
 sire, the Duke de Berry, will have you 
 quartered!" 
 
 "Morbleu!" exclaimed Henri, "she s a plucky 
 baggage. 
 
 "Dat ish so, Henri; dat ish so; haw, haw.
 
 40 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 You did not get your kiss then, Paul? Dat ish 
 goot!" 
 
 "Take that, you dirty German, take that!" 
 exclaimed Paul in a towering passion. 
 
 Simon was glad to hear them fighting among 
 themselves, especially since learning that they 
 were only a part of the band. At that moment 
 Jock touched his father s arm. Simon s quick 
 ear had not caught his stealthy tread. 
 
 "Ah, back, my lad? Then the horses are 
 ready for the road. Have all eaten their fill?" 
 
 "Yes, father. Take this bread and wine. 
 You, too, must be hungry and thirsty." 
 
 "That s so, lad, yet I had quite forgot. But 
 haste, and place the men in yonder thicket, 
 facing the cave; then ask the Count to join in 
 the rescue. I wot he will not refuse, though he 
 think our young lady the wife of her own 
 father." 
 
 "What ! not the Countess of Wotton ! Why, 
 she has been dead this many a year." 
 
 "That s true, my lad. But this is no time for 
 idle talk. If the Count consents, send him at 
 once to me, but say naught of your young 
 mistress." 
 
 Jock sped away on his errand, while Simon 
 giving serious thought to his plan examined his 
 pistols, loosening his sword in its scabbard and 
 the knife in his belt. Then as he saw the men 
 steal silently to the thicket, one by one, he gave 
 a soft, bird-like whistle, a perfect imitation of 
 the hermit-thrush. Lady Beatrice was familiar 
 with this signal. Simon had often used it when
 
 THE RESCUE 41 
 
 they were stalking deer. Again, like a bird dis 
 turbed in its sleep, he trilled brokenly, that she 
 might know the moment for decisive action had 
 come. If she was unbound, as he fully believed, 
 he felt sure she would be ready to make good 
 her escape. He knew he could rely on her 
 coolness, her courage; but as to Bess and 
 Nathan he gave hardly a thought. Just then, 
 at Simon s elbow, the Count said in a guarded 
 voice : 
 
 "I am here, and my sword, monsieur, is at 
 the service of thy lady." 
 
 Briefly Simon explained what he wished done. 
 Then to Jock he said proudly, his great hand 
 resting for a moment gently as a woman s on 
 his shoulder: 
 
 "I know, lad, I can depend on you being 
 vigilant and ready!" 
 
 As the two men left him to take up their 
 posts in the shadow of the thicket, Simon, with 
 three fingers in his mouth, emitted a loud To- 
 whoo, to-whoo! The call was so natural that 
 the Count started, thinking that an owl must be 
 in the branches overhead. Simon was right in 
 his surmise, for Lady Beatrice had recognized 
 his signal. A rude curtain separated her and 
 Bess from the robbers, while Nathan lay gagged 
 and bound in the farthest corner of the cave. 
 
 "Bess," she said, "take heart, succor is nigh. 
 Bind up your hair and wipe your eyes. You are 
 not for the singer, lass, but for Robert of 
 Derwater !" 
 
 Again she heard the "to-whoo, to-whoo!"
 
 42 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 This time the sound was nearer, as though in 
 reply to its mate. Quickly followed the crack 
 ling of twigs, the sharp report of a pistol. A 
 muttered curse and the fall of a heavy body told 
 her that the aim had been sure. 
 
 Then came the sound of running feet, the 
 hot pursuit, and peeping from behind the cur 
 tain she saw that the cave was empty with the 
 exception of a man prone upon his face, and 
 Nathan, trussed like a fowl. With a vigorous 
 sweep of her hand she thrust back the curtain. 
 Catching a knife from the table she bent over 
 the tightly bound prisoner and swiftly ran the 
 keen-edged blade across the leathern tongs, sev 
 ering them. Seeing that his cramped position 
 made it almost impossible for him to rise, with 
 strength newborn she grasped him by the shoul 
 ders, lifting him bodily to his feet. For a 
 moment he reeled unsteadily, yet only for a 
 moment. The next, he was ready to follow his 
 young mistress and Bess. 
 
 Lady Beatrice parted the vines which had 
 fallen back over the entrance just as Simon was 
 about to do the same from his side. With a 
 half inarticulate cry she put her hand in his. 
 He made an imperative gesture for Bess and 
 Nathan to follow; then the forest hid them like 
 blurred shadows. In the meantime, the Count, 
 with Jock and the men, were making short work 
 of the robbers. Simon led his lady to where 
 Spitfire was tethered. He feared another 
 whinny when he saw her rubbing her nose affec 
 tionately against the shoulder of her young
 
 THE RESCUE 43 
 
 mistress, but the noble creature seemed to sense 
 their danger. Bess and Nathan were already 
 mounted when Jock, with the Count, hurriedly 
 drew near. As the men came trailing behind 
 them, he cried: 
 
 "All but one of the villains, father, be badly 
 wounded or dead. He made his escape!" 
 
 "The more reason, lad, for us to hasten. 
 Ride by your lady s side while I, with three of 
 the men, take the lead. Count, I leave the 
 others in your charge. Who knows how soon 
 we may meet the rest of this lawless company?" 
 
 Their horses were refreshed and eager to be 
 off. There was no need of the spur, yet Simon 
 did not refrain from its use. He wished, with 
 out loss of time, to reach the inn which the 
 Count had described. He knew the tired horses, 
 as well as his lady, required longer rest. To 
 the others he gave but little thought. On, 
 swiftly, they rode, paying no heed to the wild 
 things of the wood that scuttled across their 
 path. They heard no sound of the outlaw band 
 as they pushed on, and still on. At last they 
 came to the Abbeville road. Looking up, 
 Simon descried the morning star, the herald of 
 another day. 
 
 As they drew rein at the Three Crows, the 
 line of pearly gray in the east was etched with 
 saffron. Before the host could be aroused from 
 his slumber the horizon became glowing, flame- 
 tinted, violet. Even as Lady Beatrice watched 
 the exquisite blending of color, the sun, like a 
 song of thanksgiving, flooded the world. A
 
 44 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 little bird in a tree near the corner of the inn 
 gave forth a note of pleased surprise. It was 
 answered by another and still another, till the 
 welkin teemed with sweet echoes. 
 
 Loudly Simon rapped with the butt of his 
 pistol till forth from the window over the porch 
 was thrust a red-capped head whose owner 
 asked in a sleepy voice : 
 
 "What s wanted?" 
 
 "Bed and board for my lady for man and 
 beast! Do you sleep all the day, man? Make 
 haste, or your inn will be tumbled about your 
 ears. Haste, I say, make haste!" 
 
 By the time Simon had lifted his young mis 
 tress from her saddle the door was thrown open 
 and the host, not he of the red night-cap, but a 
 short, stout, bland looking Frenchman, with 
 twinkling black eyes, bade them welcome. While 
 the man who had answered their hail was show 
 ing where their horses might be stalled, Lady 
 Beatrice, led by Simon, entered the large 
 kitchen. Bess, who had closely followed her 
 mistress, was glad to see a woman upon her 
 knees before the smouldering embers, blowing 
 them into life. Bess was cross, hungry and tired. 
 Lady Beatrice, refreshed by a cup of hot posset, 
 withdrew to a small room, evidently that of the 
 jolly host and his dame. 
 
 Everything was scrupulously neat; even the 
 bed, she noted, had clean sheets which, though 
 coarse, looked inviting. With a sigh of con 
 tent her head dropped on the snowy white pil 
 low and, like a healthy, tired child, she soon
 
 THE RESCUE 45 
 
 slumbered. Not so Bess, who sought sleep in 
 vain. On a low pallet near the bed of her 
 mistress, through the long hours she lay think 
 ing of what might, even then, be the fate of 
 Robert of Derwater. Since landing in France 
 she had seen so much shedding of blood that it 
 brought home to her what war really was. Bess 
 had a kind heart and, in spite of her frivolous 
 manner, she loved the stout yeoman. 
 
 There was still another in the inn who could 
 not sleep. This was the Count Simon s pris 
 oner. When, in the blaze of the freshly kindled 
 fire, he had caught his first glimpse of Lady 
 Beatrice, nothing could have exceeded his 
 amazement. He had expected to see a woman 
 of fifty at least. When in the kitchen she had 
 thrown off her hat and he beheld the wavy 
 masses of her red-gold hair, the violet tint of 
 her limpid eyes : when the fire had revealed her 
 mobile face with its sensitive lips, the delicate 
 flush, and the graceful curves of her tall, lithe 
 figure, his heart had seemed to stand still, then 
 to throb and beat wildly. Over him, through 
 him, whirling, rushing, came an intense longing 
 for her love; to hold her in his arms, to seal her 
 lips with kisses. He smiled in the darkness 
 when he thought how he had prided himself in 
 the past on being so different from other young 
 men. Could it have been only the night before 
 that he said lightly, indifferently, to a friend, 
 Saint Pierre: 
 
 "I love? I know not the meaning of the 
 word, neither do I care to know."
 
 46 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 What was this feeling if not love, that had 
 so overwhelmed him at first sight of Lady 
 Beatrice of Wotton? 
 
 Evidently she had not seen him for he had 
 screened himself behind the men. Simon seemed 
 to have forgotten him. He was glad, for more 
 reasons than one, to draw back into the shadow 
 of the great chimney. He wondered what she 
 would think of him. Whether his being a pris 
 oner on Simon s parole would cause her to 
 question his courage. He thought of the dis 
 ordered condition of his dress, the blood spots 
 upon it, the roughened appearance of his hair, 
 his general uncleanliness. He wished to look 
 his best when Lady Beatrice saw him. As he 
 lay there, wakeful, thinking over the incidents 
 of the afternoon and evening, he tried to picture 
 his future with her to love him. He was quick 
 to observe her womanly grace, the pride of her 
 bearing. When Simon said, "My lady, your 
 room is ready," he fully realized what a noble 
 nature was hers, for she replied, in a voice gen 
 tle and kindly, with a slow sweet smile creeping 
 from her eyes to her lips, "Think not of me. 
 It is you, old friend, who need to rest." 
 
 It was with thoughts like these that the Count 
 at last fell asleep. She came to him in his 
 dreams, a vision of ethereal beauty, but when, 
 love-prompted, he reached out to touch her 
 clinging white drapery, the soft bluish haze in 
 which she was floating enfolded her from his 
 sight. 
 
 With love knocking at his heart, he awoke.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 AT THE SILVER MOON 
 
 "For her own person, 
 It beggared all description ; she did lie 
 In her pavilion, 
 
 O er-picturing that Venus, where we see 
 The fancy outwork nature." 
 
 Anthony and Cleopatra. 
 
 "The night gives promise of being dark, Rob 
 ert of Derwater. Are you sure you know the 
 way?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord, and if I mistake not we have 
 landed not a furlong from where I took the 
 boat when I returned to England. Twenty 
 paces hence, in a little dell, we shall find an oak 
 which in some storm was toppled over, its 
 very roots standing upright to heaven. I noted 
 it well, thinking it would prove a sure land 
 mark." 
 
 "Then push on, or stay. In my haste I 
 forgot that we must wait until the men bring my 
 horse to land." 
 
 "It is here, my lord," said one of the men, as 
 he handed the dripping reins to the Earl. 
 
 "That is well. Now, Robert, let us press for 
 ward." 
 
 "This way, my lord, but take heed of spread 
 ing branches above your head and root of tree 
 beneath your horse s feet." 
 
 47
 
 48 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 When they entered the forest, had it not been 
 for the stout yeoman s lynx eyes, they would 
 never have found the place of which he had 
 spoken. 
 
 "Here, sir," cried Robert, "is the glade with 
 the storm-riven tree." 
 
 The Earl drew a breath of relief, not having 
 felt as confident as his companion. The men 
 grumbled and swore under their breath: their 
 horses stumbled in the darkness. Onward went 
 Robert, his woodman s training standing him in 
 good stead. Their progress was necessarily 
 slow. At the gray light of dawn Robert as 
 sured the Earl that since landing they had rid 
 den two leagues. When they halted for break 
 fast a soft luminous mist shut out the surround 
 ing country. Thus far they had met no one ; 
 not even a peasant hut had been seen. The Earl 
 thought it best to picket their horses well in the 
 forest. 
 
 "Methinks, Robert," he said as he endeav 
 ored to catch a glimpse of the road, "we cannot 
 use too great precaution." 
 
 Men and horses were greatly refreshed 
 when they again pushed on. Robert knew that 
 the king s mission brooked no delay, while the 
 Earl wished to make haste that he might take 
 part in the siege at Harfleur. 
 
 It was near noon. They had just capped the 
 brow of a hill when Robert s keen eyes caught 
 the glint of steel in the distance. He pointed it 
 out to the Earl, who said questioningly : 
 
 "Are you not mistaken? Yon soldiers I
 
 AT THE SILVER MOON 49 
 
 think you will find are white birch saplings 
 swayed by the breeze." 
 
 "No, my lord. Birch trees do not carry a 
 banner. God grant they have not seen us ! Let 
 us to cover, the quicker the better, for, if I mis 
 take not, they are Burgundians." 
 
 "As thou wilt, Robert. Ill deeds fly apace, 
 but not John of Burgundy. We are not enough 
 to cope with even one of his troops, and I would 
 not care to get a sword-thrust from yonder 
 knaves before I had a chance to join King 
 Henry. If you will take charge of the men and 1 
 horses so they lose not their way in the forest, 
 I will keep track of the oncoming Frenchmen." 
 
 When the last hoof-beat was heard in the 
 distance the Earl, keenly observant, felt thank 
 ful that no answering neigh, no indiscreet sound, 
 would tell of their presence. He was hidden in 
 a fir-copse from which he watched Duke John 
 who, in breast-plate and mail, rode by on a 
 superb white charger, richly caparisoned. Be 
 hind him were his esquires, and floating over 
 them the gold-fringed banner of Burgundy. As 
 far as the eye could reach the horsemen, three 
 abreast with clinking spurs and brightly bur 
 nished accoutrements, wound in and out like a 
 sinuous serpent. These men, one could readily 
 see, were not toy soldiers but veterans. The 
 Earl could but admire their confident bearing, 
 their easy seat in the saddle and the noble horses 
 that bore them. He wondered whither they 
 rode. Surely not to Harfleur. They were fac 
 ing the opposite direction. "Can it be that Har-
 
 50 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 fleur has capitulated?" he asked himself "that 
 Henry is advancing?" Straining his ears he 
 endeavored to gather from the men s conversa 
 tion, why they were riding away from the Seine. 
 He felt rewarded when one man said to an 
 other, "The English are still battering at the 
 walls of Harfleur." Anon he caught the words, 
 "It s beyond Abbeville." As the end of the 
 troop was passing, he heard one of the men ask 
 his mate, "Where is Maisoncelles, bon-vivant?" 
 It was thus he ascertained their destination. 
 
 In battle the Earl of Wotton was fearless. In 
 a case like this he thought it prudent to delay 
 giving the signal agreed upon between himself 
 and Robert. His blood surged more quickly at 
 the thought that in spite of the distance he might 
 yet be in time to assist at the siege. A half hour 
 later they were once more on the road to Har 
 fleur. There the Earl expected to find his 
 esquires, Edward of Brentwood and Aleck of 
 Kent, who had sailed from England with their 
 liege lord, King Henry. These young men were 
 the Earl s nephews. Both had a gage from 
 their fair cousin, Lady Beatrice, and were 
 eagerly looking forward to the time when they 
 should fight under the banner of Wotton. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when they halted 
 on the outskirts of a small hamlet. Robert had 
 pushed forward as scout. When he reported 
 that there were no other troops near, they again 
 rode on, drawing rein where they saw, idly flap 
 ping, a sign, "The Silver Moon." Here the 
 Earl hoped to find shelter and food.
 
 AT THE SILVER MOON 51 
 
 It was a barren room which the Earl and 
 Robert entered. The three lozenge-paned win 
 dows had, instead of glass, oiled paper. This 
 was so thick with dust and festooned with cob 
 webs that the bright rays of the setting sun 
 failed to shine through. On a deal table extend 
 ing across two-thirds of the room, were three 
 sputtering candles, mere tallow dips, which in 
 tensified the gloom. A hooknosed, wiry French 
 man was its only occupant, unless two yellow 
 cats, blinking on the hearth, might be considered 
 as such. The room had an evil smell, as of 
 unwashed ale tankards, empty wine-bottles, foul 
 breaths, and unclean bodies. 
 
 "Leave the door open, Robert," said the 
 Earl, "this room needs both light and air. Are 
 you the host?" he asked, turning to where two 
 beady eyes, with lids red-rimmed, were peering 
 at him from beneath bent brows. 
 
 "No, monsieur, there is no host. Babette, 
 Babette!" he screamed. "Sacre nom de Dieuf 
 Where is the old hag? Babette, Babette, I 
 say!" 
 
 In response a tall, angular, broad-shouldered 
 woman with unkempt hair opened the opposite 
 door. 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Do you think I am deaf, 
 Joaquin Barbour, and have naught else to do 
 but wait on a drunken wretch such as you?" 
 
 The man muttered a curse beneath his breath, 
 then said with an attempt at politeness : 
 
 "Here are gentles wantin bed and board. Go 
 find your mistress."
 
 52 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Without another word or even a glance in 
 their direction, the woman turned to do as he 
 bade her, slamming the door behind her. In 
 the meantime, Robert of Derwater had success 
 fully wrestled with the rusty fastenings of two 
 of the windows. As he threw the casements 
 wide, the fresh, sweet air blew into the room. 
 With it came the voices of children at play 
 happy children s laughter. Above these cheer 
 ful sounds rose the strident tones of Babette, 
 shouting, "Madame Moreau ! Madame Mo- 
 reau!" 
 
 "I wonder," said the Earl, "that this hostelry 
 has any patronage !" 
 
 "Yes, you old sinner; he, he, he I" 
 
 The Earl s face flamed with anger as he 
 turned to see who had dared insult him, to 
 address him with such effrontery. He saw a 
 large green parrot with leering eyes, swinging 
 in a cage near the open casement. He laughed 
 with gay spontaneity; he had a keen perception 
 of the ludicrous. 
 
 "Morbleuf" roared the Frenchman, shaking 
 his fist at the bird. "You green imp of Satan, 
 shut up your noise, or I ll wring your neck!" 
 
 This seemed to greatly amuse the parrot, who 
 cried between bursts of shrill elfish laughter: 
 
 "Poor Poll! Wring it, wring it! Give Poll 
 a biscuit. Pretty Poll, pretty Poll !" 
 
 Evidently Joaquin Barbour did not like the 
 parrot. He threw at the cage one of the empty 
 bottles from the table. But this only provoked 
 more laughter on the part of Poll, and a string
 
 AT THE SILVER MOON 53 
 
 of vile oaths. At this juncture, the door which 
 Barbette had slammed after her, was again 
 opened and the Earl saw on the threshold, 
 framed by the violet sheen of the fast fading 
 light, a beautiful young woman. Her purplish 
 black hair was cushioned high, while here and 
 there a tiny curl touched lightly her smooth 
 brow and blue-veined temples. Her clear olive 
 complexion, rose-tinted in the cheeks, and her 
 bright coral lips heightened the contrast of her 
 black sweeping lashes, beneath which the Earl 
 saw blue eyes, luminous with the light of the 
 soul. Her daintily poised head, with chin indi 
 cative of firmness, and tall supple figure, re 
 minded the Earl of his daughter, although one 
 was as dark as the other was fair. 
 
 She was becomingly attired in a soft woolen 
 gown of dull orange trimmed with black velvet. 
 The Earl acknowledged her presence with state 
 ly formality, bowing till the long plume of his 
 hat swept the floor. The contrast between her 
 appearance and surroundings was so incongru 
 ous that it quickened within him an intense sur 
 prise. If he marvelled at the perfection of her 
 loveliness, how much more at the low tones of 
 her full, sweet voice with its musical modula 
 tions. 
 
 "Bon soir, monsieur. I am Madame 
 Moreau. What can I do for you?" 
 
 The Earl had not thought of her as hostess 
 of The Silver Moon, yet, suppressing his aston 
 ishment, he asked with deference :
 
 54 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Can Madame accommodate myself and 
 men?" 
 
 "I can try, monsieur. How many are they?" 
 
 "Twenty, besides Robert of Derwater, 
 here." 
 
 "As monsieur sees, my house is small; I 
 might feed monsieur s men, but sleep them, 
 No." 
 
 "Could I not billet them in the village, 
 Madame Moreau?" 
 
 "I think not monsieur. They might find 
 sleep in the shed there is fresh hay on the 
 mow." 
 
 "That will do, Madame, if you can provide 
 for me and Robert." 
 
 "Oui, monsieur. This room is for the men. 
 Babette will attend them. But you, messieurs, 
 come with me to my salon." 
 
 "He, he, he!" cried the parrot. "Go it, old 
 sinner. Take pretty Poll. Polly wants a bis 
 cuit. Poor Poll!" 
 
 Robert followed the Earl through a long, 
 narrow passage to a wing at the left, Madame 
 Moreau leading the way. The room into which 
 she ushered them was brightly lighted, and was 
 one so dissimilar in every respect to the other 
 that the Earl could not check a quick indrawn 
 breath of surprise. 
 
 "Messieurs, order dinner. Annette will at 
 tend you to the guest-room. I regret I have but 
 one. I hope the messieurs will not object to 
 sharing it."
 
 AT THE SILVER MOON 55 
 
 The Earl s admiration of her beauty in 
 creased with every passing moment. Her 
 youth, her loveliness, the nobility of her expres 
 sion, the instinctive pride and force of her char 
 acter, were to him inconsistent with the name of 
 Madame Moreau. 
 
 "I trust, madame," he said, "we do not in 
 commode you. If there were need, Robert and 
 I would be satisfied with the same fare as our 
 men." 
 
 "Oh, no, monsieur. Men of gentle birth sel 
 dom stop here. When they do, this room, that 
 Annette will show you, is at their service." 
 
 With an air befitting more a lady of the 
 Court than the hostess of a country inn, she 
 made him a sweeping curtsey, saying: 
 
 "Au revoir, messieurs, till dinner." 
 
 Annette, a bright-eyed peasant girl, conducted 
 them across a square hall into a large room with 
 three narrow windows and two beds. Every 
 thing here was as neat and tidy as they could 
 wish. 
 
 "My good girl, tell your mistress we shall 
 be satisfied with whatever she sets before us. 
 We have been long on the road and are both 
 weary and hungry." 
 
 Annette went smilingly out, closing the door 
 behind her. The Earl waited until he heard her 
 enter the salon, then said to Robert : 
 
 "What do you think of this, lad? We enter 
 a pig-pen and see two swine; when, lo and be 
 hold ! a goddess appears. Is it enchantment, 
 say you?"
 
 56 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Indeed, my lord, tis strange, passing 
 strange !" 
 
 "That s true, lad. I would change before 
 dinner. Do you think you can find your way 
 so as to send in one of the men with my saddle 
 bags?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord. I perceived, as we crossed 
 the hall, that there was a door which opened 
 into the yard. I will go by that and, beshrew 
 me, if I do not find both men and saddle-bags." 
 
 "Then go quickly, lad, while I remove the 
 dust of travel."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NEW FRIENDS 
 
 "Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, 
 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain 
 And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
 Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous grief 
 Which weighs upon the heart?" 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 "This pottage, Madame Moreau," said the 
 Earl, "is most delicately flavored, and I have 
 scarce tasted better wine!" 
 
 "Monsieur hath, perchance, ridden far today. 
 I have heard it said that nothing whets the appe 
 tite like a long day in the saddle over a dusty 
 road." 
 
 " Tis true, madame, I have ridden far. 
 Still, my palate did always appreciate tasty 
 viands. Then it is pleasant to sit at meat with 
 so fair a hostess. You remind me of my daugh 
 ter, with whom I parted yesterday." 
 
 "Your daughter? I took you for an English 
 man who crossed the Channel last evening." 
 
 "Madame, you are not mistaken. I have a 
 daughter, Lady Beatrice of Wotton. Although 
 she is fair and good to look upon, she is but an 
 unformed maid a bud half opened; while you, 
 Madame, craving your pardon, remind me of 
 a full-blown rose found unexpectedly in the 
 wilderness." 
 
 57
 
 58 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Merci, monsieur, that is a pretty compli 
 ment! Then your daughter is here in France?" 
 
 "Yes, madame. She voyaged hither that she 
 might pay her duty to her grand-dame, the 
 Duchess de Berry. We are but twain; there 
 fore, when I came to join my king, I could not 
 bear to think of her across the channel. You 
 see, she is an old man s treasure." 
 
 "Surely you are not old, Lord Wotton; 
 scarce have you reached the prime of life, and 
 are doubtless worth a score of young men with 
 out experience, which teaches many things." 
 
 "The kindness of that thought, madame, is 
 like the morning dew to the blossom which, 
 scorched by the heat of the sun and chilled by 
 the cold winds of night, finds new life in every 
 crystal drop. If you will not consider me over 
 bold, do you not find this lonely spot one un 
 fitted to your beauty and station?" 
 
 "Monsieur forgets that I am but the hostess 
 of an inn; and as to beauty, it is but a gift of 
 nature and as like to have been another s as 
 mine." 
 
 "Surely, Madame Moreau, you have not 
 always been the hostess of an inn?" 
 
 "Monsieur, once I was a child at my mother s 
 knee; later, I was convent bred. Now I am 
 called, Madame Moreau. Let me help you to 
 something more. You are doing my dinner but 
 scant justice." 
 
 "One forgets, madame, to eat, when one 
 catches a glimpse of God s blue sky in fathom 
 less pools, and has a hostess such as you."
 
 NEW FRIENDS 59 
 
 "Perchance, Lord Wotton, it might be better 
 for me to withdraw." 
 
 "No, by my troth ! Then would darkness 
 come where now is light; bitter herbs in place 
 of blooming roses; dull company instead of 
 conversation which exhilarates, yes, intoxi 
 cates!" 
 
 "One can see, my Lord Wotton, you have 
 been a courtier." 
 
 "Not so, madame. Is it not strange that, as 
 soon as I caught a glimpse of you standing in 
 the open door, my first thought was, What 
 court lady is this? 
 
 "Did you think, monsieur?" 
 
 "Yes, verily. When I heard Babette calling 
 Madame Moreau, I expected I scarce know 
 what I did expect!" 
 
 A smile stole into her eyes lending to them 
 a velvety softness, fascinating to the Earl. 
 Slowly it crept to her lips and the cupid bow 
 took on new sweetness and beauty. The tense 
 aloofness of her face gave way to a girlish 
 expression, making her dangerously bewitching. 
 For the time she seemed to forget every bitter 
 experience of the past and her present environ 
 ment to become lost in a blissful reverie. A 
 dreamy languor like an invisible veil dimmed 
 the lustre of her eyes; her lids drooped until 
 their long, wavy lashes swept her cheeks. The 
 Earl, as he watched her varying expression, 
 thought of a beautiful vase he had once seen, 
 with soft glow of firelight shining through it. 
 He wondered what was her birth; what her life
 
 60 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 had been; how a creature so fair, so refined, so 
 divinely endowed in mind and body, could be 
 living in so desolate a spot, and why she should 
 remain there unprotected. He tried to imagine 
 her thoughts. It was not idle curiosity, born of 
 the place and the hour, but a sincere sympathy, 
 the outgrowth of a kindly heart wedded to a 
 desire to lift her out of her incongruous sur 
 roundings. 
 
 With a sudden start, like a child awakened 
 from sleep by a bad dream and not realizing 
 for the moment where she was, she looked 
 around her. It was then that the Earl saw in 
 her eyes an expression of fear allied to horror, 
 and again he asked himself, "Who and what is 
 she?" 
 
 "Pardon, my Lord Wotton, I am but a dull 
 hostess. It is seldom I have a guest to enter 
 tain and being so much alone, so dependent on 
 myself for company, I fear I must have dropped 
 into a daydream which I trust you will forgive." 
 
 "Madame, no apologies are necessary. If I 
 mistake not, I also lost myself in reverie. My 
 daughter often chides me. Were she but here, 
 she would be ready with her quips and whimseys 
 about the ancient pine, or mayhap, liken me to 
 a sere and yellow leaf ready to fall." 
 
 What would she say of me, Lord Wotton? 
 Surely I must have set the example!" 
 
 "By my troth, Madame Moreau, if I mistake 
 not, she would be for having you leave the inn 
 to join in her pleasures. She cares not for seclu-
 
 NEW FRIENDS 61 
 
 sion, but takes kindly to gay life and constant 
 motion." 
 
 "So once did I, Lord Wotton." 
 
 "I am old enough, Madame, to be your 
 father, therefore take no offence if I say I trust 
 you will be so again. You are too young and 
 too fair to be lost here !" 
 
 Madame Moreau gave a suppressed sigh as 
 she idly crumbled her bread. Then, taking a 
 sip of wine she said, as one who unwittingly 
 speaks aloud her thoughts: 
 
 "If I had been blessed with such a father, 
 what might I not have made of my life; but 
 now, what hope is there for me !" 
 
 The Earl, knowing that these words were not 
 intended for his ear, turned to Robert who sat 
 at the other end of the table, asking: 
 
 "Are you making out with your dinner, lad?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord, I have been eating." 
 
 "Do not then, out of courtesy, wait for me, 
 Robert. I would deem it a kindness if you 
 would see that the men drink not too freely, and 
 that the horses have been well looked to. I 
 purpose to be on the road by dawn. Before you 
 go, let me present you to our hostess; this, 
 Madame Moreau, is a brave captain of archers, 
 one Robert of Derwater ; while I have the honor 
 to be the fifth Earl of Wotton." 
 
 "I took you, Monsieur Derwater, for a cap 
 tain at least. I have heard that the yeoman 
 archers of England are the backbone of her 
 army. As for you, my Lord Wotton, I saw at 
 a glance that you were noble !"
 
 62 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 To Robert s tanned cheek had come a quick 
 flush of pleasure, as, with an awkward bow to 
 Madame Moreau, he retired from the room. 
 
 A knowing smile broke over his frank, honest 
 face as the door closed behind him. "I ll not 
 forget the Earl s conversation," he thought. 
 "Will try it upon Bess, when next I see her !" 
 
 Madame Moreau passed the Earl the decan 
 ter, saying: 
 
 "This is Bordeaux which, I am told, the Eng 
 lish prefer." 
 
 "By its color and bouquet, madame, it must 
 be an old vintage." 
 
 "Yes, it is, Lord Wotton." 
 
 Lifting his glass the Earl said gravely: 
 
 "Permit me to wish you a future such as your 
 youth could not fail to enjoy. When peace once 
 more reigns between England and France, may 
 we meet again, you in your proper sphere which 
 your beauty would adorn. Accept my sincere 
 thanks for a pleasant hour, and my earnest hope 
 that you may ever find happiness." 
 
 "That is kind, Lord Wotton. Madame 
 Moreau will not readily forget the Earl of Wot 
 ton or his kindness to one who, as he has 
 divined, has cause for unhappiness. Let me 
 think of you not as a traveler who pays his reck 
 oning, but as an honored guest. I need not 
 money that I have in plenty. It mocks me, for 
 it cannot buy me peace." 
 
 "No, no, Madame Moreau, the Earl of Wot 
 ton cannot accept his keep and that of his men 
 from any one."
 
 NEW FRIENDS 63 
 
 "Then, Lord Wotton, you will take from me 
 a pleasant memory. By thus refusing you force 
 me to remember the difference between the Earl 
 of Wotton and Madame Moreau, hostess of 
 The Silver Moon." 
 
 "Well, well, for once then will I place myself 
 under obligation to a stranger a woman, a 
 beautiful woman at that ! May we meet again 
 in brighter days. Till then, fare thee well 1" 
 
 "Au revoir, monsieur. Bonne fortune!" 
 
 At cockcrow the Earl awoke. He could hear 
 the low hum of his men preparing for the road. 
 Robert, already dressed, had left the room. 
 The Earl was not long in making ready, being 
 in haste to proceed on his journey. The Earl s 
 sleep had been disturbed by troubled dreams 
 vague unrest had stirred him. He could not 
 free his mind from thoughts of Madame 
 Moreau. His kindly nature dwelt often upon 
 her seeming loneliness : he found himself com 
 paring his daughter s sheltered life with that of 
 this lovely woman. In this way his fair hos 
 tess crept unconsciously into his heart. As he 
 opened the door, Annette, candle in hand, met 
 him. 
 
 "My lord is up?" she asked, with a bobbing 
 courtesy. "His breakfast is served in the 
 salon." 
 
 "My good girl, I did not intend to trespass 
 on Madame Moreau s hospitality!" 
 
 "Oh, as to that, my lord, Madame left her 
 orders last night, that you and your men should
 
 64 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 have hot food and wine. The men have eaten. 
 Will my lord come now?" 
 
 As he entered the salon the Earl gave a hasty 
 glance about the candle-lighted room: not that 
 he really expected to see Madame Moreau, yet 
 it exhaled a delicate fragrance, making it seem 
 as though she, too, must be there. He felt 
 that his presence was an intrusion, so much so 
 that, under the circumstances he would almost 
 have preferred to forego breakfast. As he 
 inhaled the rich aroma of the steaming viands, 
 saw the broiled chicken, the golden pat of but 
 ter, the honey and tempting rolls a delicate 
 brown, he could not help thinking that it would 
 be much pleasanter to start on his journey after 
 such a meal than if he had gone without, as had 
 been his intention. Rising from the table he 
 said pleasantly to Annette, who stood silently 
 waiting : 
 
 "Take this, my good girl, to buy a ribbon 
 or a new kirtle; and say to Madame Moreau 
 that the Earl of Wotton thanks her sincerely for 
 her hospitality and kindness. Also, do not for 
 get to tell her that should she ever need a 
 friend, the Earl of Wotton will gladly serve 
 her." 
 
 A half hour later the Earl with Robert at 
 his side, his men following close, rode away 
 from The Silver Moon, their faces turned 
 toward Harfleur. Had he looked back he 
 might have seen, peeping from between the 
 curtains, the face of Madame Moreau bathed 
 in tears. Manlike, he was deeply engrossed in
 
 NEW FRIENDS 65 
 
 a discussion as to the length of time it would 
 take to arrive at the camp of King Henry. 
 
 It was a lowering morning. Tattered white 
 clouds, with shaded gray borders, scudded across 
 a washed-out sky. The wind blew fitfully. The 
 trees soughedi and creaked, as if mourning. 
 Away on the horizon to the east was a long bar, 
 as though a brush dipped in black paint had 
 been drawn across the sky. Below it were great 
 folds of orange-gray. The effect was sinister. 
 The Earl called Robert s attention first to the 
 wind clouds, then to the black curtain in the 
 east, saying earnestly: 
 
 "It is fortunate the men had a hot breakfast. 
 If I mistake not, we shall get a wetting inside 
 of an hour, if no worse. Let us push on: per 
 chance we may find shelter if the storm prove 
 severe." 
 
 It was a desolate picture. At the left was a 
 long stretch of forest; to the right the land was 
 low and marshy; the yellowish-gray light made 
 the trees, the scanty grass and the thickets look 
 as if scorched and shriveled by the hot rays of 
 the sun, till all vestige of green had been 
 destroyed. The road stretched away as far as 
 eye could reach without even a hut to break 
 the monotony. The threatening sky, the yel 
 lowish haze which so surely foretold a wetting 
 depressed, not only the Earl, but his followers. 
 Even Robert s face lost its jovial expression, 
 while the red of his cheeks became a sickly 
 yellow. 
 
 They had been riding about two hours since
 
 66 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 leaving The Silver Moon, when the storm 
 broke. It was heralded by great clouds of dust 
 which the wind seemed fairly to scoop up and 
 throw at them. They were glad to bend their 
 heads low the better to protect their eyes from 
 the stinging particles of dirt. Fiercer and fiercer 
 blew the blast. Great limbs were broken off 
 the trees and hurled into the road. Leaves and 
 twigs eddied round and round. The groaning 
 and rending, as the wind now and again tore 
 up young saplings by the roots, excited and 
 frightened the mettlesome horses. The most 
 inured and hardened of the men found it diffi 
 cult to keep their seats in the saddle as, with a 
 furious rush, the wind bore against them. Their 
 faces were cut by the gravel while the wind 
 seemed determined to carry away some part 
 of their clothing and more than one lost his 
 hat. Down fell the rain, not a gentle drizzle, 
 nor drops far apart, but a steady downpour, 
 as though the clouds hanging above them were 
 great eyes full to overflowing of long pent-up 
 emotion, till the vast ocean of tears brimmed 
 over, an irresistible torrent, drenching them to 
 the skin. Still they pressed on, for as yet they 
 had seen no sign of shelter. 
 
 Darker and darker grew the sky. Louder 
 and more fiercely blew the blast, while the rain, 
 confluent, dense, impenetrable, hid the very road 
 from their sight. The Earl and Robert were 
 obliged to depend blindly upon their horses. 
 They knew not what was before them. Neither 
 spoke, realizing the impossibility of being heard.
 
 NEW FRIENDS 67 
 
 Each felt a vague anxiety, a foreboding of 
 danger. 
 
 At last, above the loud blast of the tempest 
 they heard the muffled blare of a trumpet. As 
 if this were a signal for the wind to subside 
 and the rain to cease, the storm abated. The 
 black curtain rolled away like a scroll, the yel 
 low-gray folds parted, the sun, like God s 
 golden banner, shone forth. The clouds scat 
 tered and the sky, as if swept clean by a master 
 hand, became a brilliant azure.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE HOSPITALITY OF THE HOUSE OF 
 D EPERNON 
 
 "His heart and hand both open and both free; 
 For what he has he gives." 
 
 Troilus and Cressida. 
 
 Loud and shrill blew the trumpeter. The 
 Earl who was riding in advance saw, on a dis 
 tant plateau a half league away, a large troop 
 of horse. The sun s rays brought into bold 
 relief the Lilies of France on a blue satin ban 
 ner fringed with gold: this apparently had not 
 been out in the storm. The jewels on the 
 trappings of the Due de Berry s horse shot forth 
 gleams of iridescent fire. The brow of the hill 
 on which the Earl drew rein was somewhat 
 higher than that which the French troop were 
 descending. This gave him a better view of 
 his foe than they could have of him or his 
 retinue. 
 
 What to do in the present emergency, in view 
 of the fact that the French outnumbered him, 
 at least three to one, was a difficult question to 
 answer. The Earl realized that something 
 must be done and that at once. Turning to 
 Robert he asked seriously: 
 
 "What do you think? Would it be possible 
 68
 
 THE HOSPITALITY OF THE HOUSE OF D EPERNON 69 
 
 for us to contend with yonder troop to our 
 advantage?" 
 
 "No, my lord. To my mind it were better 
 to ride back to where, if I mistake not, there 
 is a wood road. Though it may make the 
 distance longer by two leagues, yet it is better 
 to ride far with a whole skin than to lie by the 
 roadside riddled with bullets or the thrust of 
 a sword." 
 
 "That is true, Robert: turn back with the 
 men and ride quickly! I will watch until all 
 are down the hill, then I, too, will hasten and 
 catch up with you." 
 
 The brave captain of archers was a soldier 
 to his finger-tips : he obeyed at once. The Earl 
 felt confident that he and his followers had not 
 been seen by the French horsemen. He wished 
 to be certain that the troop did not turn off to 
 the left. His reason told him that should the 
 horsemen do so, they would cross the road 
 which Robert had proposed to take. Looking 
 back the Earl saw that his retainers were 
 already out of sight, while the French were 
 rapidly approaching. As far as he could see 
 they came in close phalanx. The head of the 
 column halted. The Earl drew in his breath 
 with a sharp rasping sound. As the troop 
 began the ascent he turned his horse and with 
 words of encouragement, to which the intelli 
 gent animal was quick to respond, rode swiftly 
 away from the advancing enemy. 
 
 When the Due de Berry with his esquires 
 topped the hill where they had so lately seen
 
 70 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 the English, the Earl and his good horse had 
 disappeared from sight. Again the Duke halted, 
 fearing an ambush. He listened intently, but 
 the hoofs of the Earl s great roan were dulled 
 by the soft springy moss which he spurned so 
 lightly. Once more the Earl whispered to 
 Saladin who, with head held high, and nostrils 
 dilated, stretched his long limbs to greater 
 speed. Beyond was a turn in the road: this 
 reached, he knew that the trees would hide him. 
 He wished also to catch up with Robert. 
 
 The Due de Berry s gray stallion pawed the 
 earth with impatience. Still his master sat lost 
 in thought. What cared he that his men and 
 their restive steeds were awaiting? He was 
 trying to decide if the hated English were hiding 
 in the valley below. Once more he lived over 
 the battle of Poitiers, where Frenchmen fell like 
 fresh grain before the English reaper. There 
 he had acquired a wholesome fear of their 
 archers. 
 
 The Earl joined Robert before the Duke 
 began the descent of the hill. Had the Earl 
 known this he would not have urged forward at 
 such speed the storm-spent men and horses. The 
 Duke finally made up his mind that the English 
 man and his followers were but a mirage. He 
 laughed jocosely as he said to one of his es 
 quires : 
 
 "Would we could vanquish the English with 
 as little blood-letting as the phantoms we so 
 lately saw!" 
 
 The Earl, who had ridden for a long time
 
 THE HOSPITALITY OF THE HOUSE OF D EPERNON 7 1 
 
 in silence, at last turned to Robert, asking wear- 
 ily:-_ 
 
 "Is it much farther to the main road?" 
 
 "About three leagues, my lord. Adzooks ! 
 if we could but meet a band of Frenchmen that 
 did not offset us three to one, faith, I would 
 teach them a lesson ! That s why I burn to 
 reach Harfleur." 
 
 "It were better, as you are the king s mes 
 senger, Robert, that you avoid fighting until 
 you have reported the result of your mission. 
 Then, beshrew me, the chance will be yours!" 
 
 Once more they dropped into silence. The 
 Earl was thinking of his daughter; Robert, of 
 Bess. On, on, they rode slowly and still more 
 slowly as the afternoon waned. Men and 
 horses were tired and hungry. As the sun, a 
 red ball of fire, was sinking out of sight in a 
 sea of topaz and opal, they arrived at a ruined 
 chateau. Near its gate was a comfortable cot 
 tage, with soft rings of smoke curling up from 
 the chimney. Standing in the vine-covered porch 
 was a stout, motherly woman, her gray hair 
 bound neatly with a black silk handkerchief. 
 One hand shaded her eyes from the sun, the 
 other rested on the shoulder of a rosy-cheeked 
 boy. The child, when he saw the Earl and his 
 men drawing rein, shouted gladly: 
 
 "Oh, granny, see the soldiers!" 
 
 The Earl, doffing his hat as courteously as 
 though he were about to address one of his 
 own rank, asked with a pleasant smile :
 
 72 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Good mother, can you provide food and 
 shelter for me and my men?" 
 
 "No, my lord; methinks our small cot would 
 scarce give shelter to so many." 
 
 "But, mother, we are wet, hungry and tired 
 sore spent with a long day s ride in the storm. 
 Do you not think you could arrange it? We 
 mind not how humble the fare if it be but clean 
 and wholesome. Reconsider, mother: I am 
 ready to pay you well." 
 
 While the Earl was speaking, a bright-eyed, 
 curly haired lad of perhaps eighteen summers 
 came out to the porch, where he stood listening 
 intently. He whispered a few words to the 
 small boy who, one could see, was his brother. 
 The child ran quickly to the rear of the cottage, 
 calling: 
 
 "Grand-pere, grand-pere!" 
 
 The eyes of the old woman took in at a 
 glance the wet bedraggled state, not only of the 
 Earl but of the men, and her kind heart 
 prompted her to make an attempt to provide 
 for their needs. . She was thinking where she 
 could bestow them, how fill so many mouths and 
 empty stomachs, when the boy, Paul, came 
 springing along by the side of his grand-pere. 
 The Earl saw by the old man s bearing that 
 he had been a soldier, and at once took heart. 
 
 "Mon enfant tells me, Monsieur, that you 
 crave food and shelter from his granny, Jean- 
 nette." 
 
 Lifting his hat the Earl replied gravely : 
 
 "Yes, sir. You can see we have travelled
 
 THE HOSPITALITY OF THE HOUSE OF D EPERNON 73 
 
 far we were in the belt of the storm. Since 
 dawn we have not broken our fast. For food 
 and lodging I am prepared to pay good English 
 gold. If I mistake not, you also have been a 
 soldier?" 
 
 The old man s eyes kindled. He stood more 
 erect as he said proudly: 
 
 "Oui, monsieur, I have but a French sol 
 dier! Still, it shall not be said that Basil of the 
 House of d Epernon refused food or shelter to 
 man or beast, whether English or French. 
 Andre, take monsieur s horse and show his men 
 where they can find provender. Then see that a 
 fire is built in the great hall at the chateau. I 
 trust, my lord, you will accept lodgment in our 
 poor cottage where ma femme, Jeannette, can 
 later look to it that your clothing is dried and 
 brushed." 
 
 "If you will see that Saladin is well cared 
 for, I will go in and rest. Do not tarry with 
 the men at the chateau. I feel sure that Dame 
 Jeannette will give a hearty welcome to a comely 
 lad like you." 
 
 The kitchen which he entered was spotlessly 
 clean. On the wall opposite the door hung 
 copper cooking utensils which had been scoured 
 until they shone bright as gold. A dresser 
 stood near on which was ranged blue delft and 
 white earthen ware. The Earl, glancing at the 
 sword over the fireplace, marked its basket hilt, 
 well battered, as though from much service. A 
 large bow, with a sheaf of tall arrows in the 
 farthest corner also caught his eye. He smiled
 
 74 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 as the thought flitted through his mind that 
 these would be the first objects to attract 
 Robert s attention. A bright fire glowed on the 
 hearth, while on the stone mantel above it were 
 two shining pewter candlesticks; between them, 
 carved in ebony, hung a crucifix. In the centre 
 of the room was a square deal table scrubbed 
 to snowy whiteness. There was but one chair; 
 this Dame Jeannette pushed to the window 
 for the Earl, while Basil, after his guest was 
 seated, sat down on a stool with Paul s curly 
 head laid confidingly against his arm. As the 
 Earl looked upon the homely scene a restful 
 feeling stole over him. It made him think of 
 the forester s lodge at Wotton, of old Guy and 
 his good wife, Margaret. 
 
 Dame Jeannette stirred the fire, adding new 
 fagots, then hung on the crane a large copper 
 kettle, into which she put so many ingredients 
 that the Earl idly wondered what it could be. 
 Andre now brought in two well fattened capons 
 ready dressed for the spit. These were soon 
 roasting. In the hot ashes his grand-dame had 
 buried such a quantity of onions that the Earl 
 smilingly said : 
 
 "You pamper our appetite, good mother." 
 
 "Non, Monsieur, there is nothing better to 
 ward off a cold after a wetting than onions 
 baked in the ashes. I doubt if I have enough 
 for you and your men." 
 
 Taking down wooden bowls and pewter por 
 ringers from behind a drawn curtain, Dame 
 Jeannette said to her grand-son :
 
 THE HOSPITALITYOFTHE HOUSE OF D EPERNON 75 
 
 "Now, my lad, by the time you have taken 
 these basins to the chateau and two loaves of 
 black bread with a flagon of wine, the ragout 
 will be done." 
 
 Robert had detailed a broad-shouldered Scot, 
 one Sandy MacPherson, to assist Andre and 
 the three entered the cottage together. Sandy s 
 roving blue eye took in the fire-lighted room 
 with its simple belongings, and brightened with 
 pleasure when the odor of the savoury mixture 
 which the dame was stirring in the kettle, 
 steamed into his face. His capacious mouth 
 stretched into a broad grin when he was told to 
 lift it from the crane. Paul broke into a merry 
 laugh at the red-haired Scotchman s droll ex 
 pression, as he smacked his lips at the prospect 
 of dinner. When Robert bade him carry it to 
 the men at the chateau, his grin became a 
 chuckle of delight. 
 
 Over the table the dame spread a coarse 
 white cloth, and then bid the Earl and Robert 
 fall to. This they did with a zest. The Earl 
 praised the viands which Dame Jeannette 
 placed before him till her eyes glowed and her 
 cheeks flushed with pardonable satisfaction. 
 Andre and Paul listened silently while their 
 grand-pere asked many questions concerning the 
 English King. Basil seemed a man of unusual 
 intelligence. Before the evening ended, the Earl 
 of Wotton had heard glowing accounts of the 
 Frenchmen s feudal Lord, the Comte Raoul 
 d Epernon. He also learned of the gathering 
 at Rouen, and now understood why the Dukes
 
 76 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 of Burgundy and Berry were riding away from 
 Harfleur. 
 
 The next morning the Earl and his retinue 
 were early in their saddles, and before the sun 
 had risen had ridden a good league nearer the 
 Seine. Robert was certain that by nightfall they 
 would arrive at King Henry s camp, and with 
 another dawn be taking part in the siege. 
 
 The Earl left the good people at the cottage 
 the richer for his coming, and bore away with 
 him a thorough appreciation of the valor and 
 nobility of character of the Comte Raoul d Ep- 
 ernon !
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "Was ever woman in this humor wooed ? 
 Was ever woman in this humor won ?" 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 In spite of all Lady Beatrice had undergone 
 since landing near the mouth of the Somme 
 from the good ship Lively : in spite of the varied 
 incidents of her first day s journey, her excite 
 ment, her fatigue, her abduction, her rescue 
 from the band of robbers, her ride through the 
 dark forest she awoke at noon on her second 
 day in France as rested and blithe as though 
 she had slept throughout the long night in her 
 own dainty room at Wotton. With one hand 
 pressed between the coarse linen and her softly 
 rounded cheek, she watched Bess from beneath 
 her long lashes, as she stepped noiselessly about 
 the room attending to her duties. 
 
 The thoughts of Lady Beatrice were pictur 
 ing all that had happened since her arrival in 
 France. She was living over in memory the 
 strange adventures of the day before. 
 
 "What are doing, Bess?" she asked at last. 
 "Do you realize that, since leaving home, I 
 have experienced more of life in half as many 
 days as I have lived years at dear old Wotton?" 
 
 "That s true, Lady Beatrice; but did you see 
 the prisoner this morning when we alighted at 
 the inn?" 77
 
 78 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "No, Bess, did you? All thoughts of him 
 have left me as quickly as you slipped from the 
 arms of Robert of Derwater, when I called 
 to you on shipboard. Do you remember?" 
 
 "It s not well, my lady, for a poor lass like 
 me to think too much about a captain of 
 archers. It might be better were I to take up 
 with Jock, whom I have known all my life. 
 Do you not think so?" 
 
 Lady Beatrice yawned, showing her beauti 
 ful teeth. Then, stretching her arms over her 
 head, she asked with a laugh, half sleepy, half 
 mirthful : 
 
 "Is he old or young? Short or tall? Hand 
 some or ugly? Do you know his title? Me- 
 thinks I heard Simon call him Count, but I 
 am not certain. If you have seen him, tell me 
 all you know while dressing my hair. But we 
 must hasten, Bess: every moment I expect to 
 hear Simon s knock at the door." 
 
 "Well, my lady, he kept in the shadow while 
 we were drinking our posset in the kitchen, but 
 once, when I crossed to the other side of the 
 chimney, I got a good look at him. He is as 
 tall as the Earl, your father, though slighter in 
 build, yet fair to look upon. His hair is dark 
 chestnut, and his eyes of deep hazel. He re 
 minded me of that great deer at Wotton, whose 
 long, branching antlers, so Jock said, showed 
 he was king of the forest. When I saw him 
 this morning, he gave just such a toss to his 
 head and as fearless a glance from his eye as
 
 ON THROUGH TROUBLOUS PICARDY 79 
 
 did Grand Monarch that s what Jock calls 
 the deer." 
 
 "Did this stranger speak to you, Bess? Praise 
 your supple waist, the glint of your eye? Or 
 did he try, like Sir Harry, to take the dew from 
 your lips, or was it the bloom from your cheek?" 
 
 "No, my lady: your mind dwells too much 
 on Sir Harry! I pray you forget him, and 
 think more of Aleck of Kent. He is an Eng 
 lishman: broad-shouldered, deep-chested, fair 
 as thyself: good to look upon, with a voice as 
 cheery and hearty as, as as the west wind 
 through the copper beech at Wotton in the 
 month of May. T would please your father 
 better to have you smile on your cousin Aleck 
 than to love a French Count." 
 
 "Fiddle-de-dee ! Have you forgotten, Bess 
 what I said to you yesterday? I have no mind 
 to love anyone. Still Aleck might have been 
 in better business than urging you to sing his 
 praises as you do from morning till night. What 
 did he give you, Bess, for all the sweet things 
 you are constantly saying about him? As to 
 the French Count, I do not know, even now, 
 whether he is as old as Methuselah, or still in 
 swaddling clothes. The most I can gather is 
 that you think him a dear!" 
 
 "Who knows, my lady, but what before the 
 new moon you, too, may think so, even more 
 than your Bess. It s unkind of you to ask me 
 if I took favor from your cousin. I sing his 
 praise for he seems to me the one best fitted 
 to be your lord and master."
 
 80 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 At that moment Simon s voice was heard out 
 side the door, asking in tones of concern : 
 
 "Are you ill, Lady Beatrice? If not, I will 
 send you your breakfast and dinner together, 
 for inside the hour we should be again on the 
 road." 
 
 Lady Beatrice donned her Lincoln green 
 habit, and as Bess fastened the frill of lace at 
 her throat, she bade Simon enter, saying as he 
 did so: 
 
 "Do not scold me, good Simon, for over 
 sleeping. You see I am ready. When I have 
 broken my fast I will ride Spitfire so swiftly 
 that even Ajax will have all he can do to keep 
 by my side!" 
 
 Simon s weatherbeaten face broke into a rug 
 ged smile as he looked at his young mistress 
 who, fresh as a meadow daisy, returned his 
 glance with one that his own daughter might 
 have given him. To Bess he said, no longer 
 smiling: 
 
 "Get you gone, lass, for your young mistress 
 breakfast, and stay not to chatter." 
 
 With a toss of her head Bess left them. When 
 the door had closed, Simon said to Lady Beat 
 rice, this time with a serious expression: 
 
 "My lady, we have in our train the Comte 
 d Epernon, my prisoner. Of the two evils, I 
 chose the lesser. I grant him a gallant swords 
 man, quick at fence as your father, a proper 
 man. The Earl put you in my charge and as I 
 wot not of this Count, except that he be not 
 lacking in courage, I deemed it wise to give
 
 ON THROUGH TROUBLOUS PICARDY 81 
 
 advice. You are young, unused to the world 
 and its ways. I may express myself poorly, 
 as I know more of spear and lance than of 
 maidens, yet God wot I do my best in sug 
 gesting that you ward off his attentions as you 
 would the thrust of a rapier, for he is keen 
 witted and more than that, a Frenchman !" 
 
 Bess, with a dancing smile about her lips and 
 a mischievous look in her eyes which made her 
 young mistress certain she had overheard 
 Simon s well meant advice, now stepped into 
 the room bearing a full tray. 
 
 "You can depend on me, Simon," said Lady 
 Beatrice. "Your counsel is good." 
 
 As the old henchman withdrew Bess, under 
 her breath, mockingly repeated her young mis 
 tress words, "You can depend on me, Simon!" 
 
 Breakfast eaten, Lady Beatrice drew on her 
 long gauntlet gloves, pearl colored, embroid 
 ered in white, while her deft hand-maiden se 
 cured her green hat with its long ostrich 
 plumes by an ivory dart in whose head was set 
 a brilliant emerald of great price. She then 
 tied on her lady s mask, saying as she drew it 
 smoothly down: 
 
 "If it were not for the roguish dimple in 
 your chin, and the prettiest ear ever seen, that 
 "keen-witted" Frenchman would not be able to 
 tell whether you were young or old, and might 
 still take you for your mother, as he did last 
 evening." 
 
 Light as a swallow, Lady Beatrice sprang to 
 the saddle, and Simon handed her the reins.
 
 82 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 One quick glance had shown her the Count, 
 debonair, smiling, his hazel eyes brilliant with 
 the fire of admiration, unobtrusively observant. 
 Jock, freshly shaven, had assisted Bess to her 
 saddle. 
 
 The Count then vaulted lightly to the back 
 of his good roan. Catching the eye of Lady 
 Beatrice, he removed his hat with its waving 
 plumes, at the same time bowing almost to the 
 pommel of his saddle. 
 
 The cavalcade started with Ajax and Spit 
 fire taking the lead. It was a glorious day. 
 June was sitting in the lap of September. The 
 sun in mid-heaven was resplendently brilliant. 
 The great dome of blue was unflecked by a 
 cloud; the broad road, the trees rustling, and 
 still green in leafage, the sweet, spicy odors 
 of grapes, deep purple, white, ruby red; the 
 blithesome songs of the peasants; their pictur 
 esque costumes; the joyful laughter of children, 
 all acted like wine on the spirits of Lady 
 Beatrice. The air, clear, bracing, intoxicating, 
 filled her with gladness. She would have liked 
 to break into song. Simon s dark brown eyes 
 held an indulgent smile as he listened to her 
 merry sallies. Shoulder to shoulder, Ajax and 
 Spitfire galloped swiftly, alert, proudly step 
 ping, as though in the mere power of motion 
 they found intense enjoyment. 
 
 To the right, half hidden, rose the great 
 chimneys of a stone buttressed chateau. To the 
 left, half covered with lichen, they saw still 
 another, where were fountains playing. Pea-
 
 ON THROUGH TROUBLOUS PICARDY 83 
 
 cocks were flaunting their iridescent tail feathers 
 in the rays of the sun. Farther on, a long 
 rambling manor-house, dark red, ivy clad, with 
 tall elms centuries old, forming two half-cir 
 cles, their topmost branches arching, intertwin 
 ing, making broad avenues of approach. Beyond 
 was a park, half wild. In the cool distance a 
 pavilion could be seen with a fountain playing 
 near it. Two deer were drinking from its 
 marble basin. Now startled by the hoof beats 
 they raised their tall antlers, looking with wide 
 open eyes as though surprised at being dis 
 turbed. 
 
 On, on rode the cavalcade, the Count think 
 ing Lady Beatrice, as she swayed gently in her 
 saddle, a goodly sight to see. Through the 
 long afternoon he had ridden behind her. Now 
 the sun was declining, the landscape growing 
 wilder, the road more rough and uneven. Thus 
 far, Simon had kept close to the side of his 
 young mistress. As they dipped into a valley 
 between two small hills and he saw the way 
 they must pursue bore sharply to the right, he 
 said, after listening intently to hoofbeats com 
 ing from that direction : 
 
 "Lady Beatrice, I will ride ahead at greater 
 speed. Follow, you, more slowly. It might 
 be well to know whether the horsemen I hear 
 approaching be friend or foe." 
 
 This was the opportunity for which the 
 Count had been wishing. As Simon pressed 
 onward, the Count took his place and, deferen 
 tially bowing, said in a clear baritone:
 
 84 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "I trust you will pardon me, Mademoiselle, 
 if I am in your way. A word a gesture, and 
 I will draw back my good Saladin. Still, should 
 you not object I, the Comte d Epernon, would 
 esteem it a great favor to be allowed to act as 
 your escort till your staunch protector returns." 
 
 The violet eyes of Lady Beatrice looked at 
 him not unkindly even as she said, with an 
 attempt at stateliness : 
 
 "I am Lady Beatrice of Wotton. So you, 
 too, call your horse after a denizen of the 
 desert! The Earl, my father, rides a roan 
 named for the great chief. I have heard him 
 say the pedigree of this noble animal could 
 be traced back to the roan stallion given by 
 Saladin to Richard Coeur-de-Lion." 
 
 "Do you know, mademoiselle, where your 
 father s horse came from?" 
 
 "Yes, that do I, Comte d Epernon. He was 
 a present to him from good John of Burgundy, 
 when but a foal. That was four years past 
 come Whitsunday. I remember well when 
 Simon, who had gone to France on service for 
 my father, brought it to Wotton and with it 
 this black palfrey, Spitfire. She is of the same 
 stock. Perchance you know that, through my 
 mother, the Duke is related to me." 
 
 "No, Mademoiselle de Wotton. Yet I 
 might have known, since the Duchess de Berry 
 is your grand-dame. It is strange, passing 
 strange, that we, who but a few hours since 
 knew naught of each other having lived on 
 either side of the channel, should be here today.
 
 ON THROUGH TROUBLOUS PICARDY 85 
 
 each on a mount from the stable of the Due de 
 Burgundy!" 
 
 Simon now rode swiftly into view, meeting 
 them at the bend of the road. 
 
 "Back, back, my lady!" he cried. "Sir Count, 
 ride with her speedily to the rear. Bess, follow 
 thy mistress. Quick! what are you gaping at? 
 Do you want to be caught in the swirl of 
 battle? Push on, Sir Count, and take the road 
 to the left. Haste ! haste !" 
 
 Jock, realizing that danger faced them, had 
 given a low order to the men to reload their 
 pistols and loose their good blades, that they 
 might be ready for the strife. 
 
 "Haste you, Jock, with the men! Drop just 
 below the brow of the hill, so that when the 
 knaves come near you can pick them off, one 
 by one. Lose not a shot. Sixteen of the ruf 
 fians of last evening, well-armed, are riding 
 rapidly, bent on slaughter! I will join you 
 anon." 
 
 Bess urged the gray genet with whip and spur. 
 They sped so well that the trees hid them from 
 sight before the leader of the tattered crew 
 made around the curve. Fortunately, the way 
 to the road which Simon had mentioned was 
 short. 
 
 As Jock joined him, Simon said: 
 
 "Surely seven sturdy Englishmen can beat 
 off two score of such scum in which it were a 
 pity to sheathe clean blades!"
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WELL IN THE ENEMY S COUNTRY 
 
 "For courage mounteth with occasion." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 On came the motley crowd of men of all 
 nations, with loud cursing and shouting, swords 
 brandished in air, riding up the hill three 
 abreast. A black-haired Russian, with a vil 
 lainous red scar crossing forehead and cheek, 
 rode in advance. Simon s party waited the on 
 rush, cool and alert. Each man with eyes keenly 
 alive, sat firmly in his saddle, upright, intrepid, 
 fearless, certain of his aim. Simon s hawk eye 
 measured the distance. Father and son were 
 an arrow s length ahead of the other five men, 
 who formed a crescent with Andrew at one 
 end to the rear and right of Jock, while Saul 
 held a similar position near Simon. 
 
 "Hold your fire till I give the word," cried 
 Jock, his dark eyes gleaming. "Father will 
 pick off the leader while you, Andrew and Saul, 
 take the first man to the left and right. I will 
 look to the centre. Quick as you fire give place 
 to Adam and Dick : then reload ! Steady !" 
 
 Hatchet-faced, red-eyed, foul-mouthed, came 
 on the Russian seeming not to heed the death 
 that he courted. Simon rode a pace forward to 
 meet him, with sword drawn from sheath, shim 
 mering, swiftly darting, curling round and 
 86
 
 WELL IN THE ENEMY S COUNTRY 87 
 
 round with sibilant sound, the blade of his foe. 
 He was strong of wrist and keen of eye, not 
 broken down with debauchery as was his oppon 
 ent, yet the moment his steel struck fire against 
 that of the other, he knew that the man s grip 
 was as vise-like as his own. Sharp, clear, de 
 cisive, came three pistol shots at once. Three 
 saddles were emptied. Wildly tore the rider 
 less horses. Feeling no longer the hand on the 
 rein, they wheeled, riding pell-mell against the 
 cut-throats who, with spurs and oaths, were 
 striving to press forward. The mad gallop of 
 the terror-stricken beasts separated them like 
 chaff. 
 
 In the setting sun the two swords, wielded 
 so skilfully, first in guard, then in fence, in 
 thrust and parry, emitted coruscations. Twice 
 Simon tried unsuccessfully, through feint, to 
 carry out the trick of fence which had sent the 
 Count s sword from his hand. At last Ajax 
 seemed to think it time for him to take part in 
 the fray and, with mouth wide open, eyes dis 
 tended, savage, terrible, rearing huge and aveng 
 ing, he came crashing down on the head and 
 shoulders of the Russian s horse, toppling him 
 over. With a groan the Russian expired. As 
 though in retaliation, four of his companions, 
 with reckless speed, swords flashing, rode 
 straight at Simon. One made a lunge at the 
 noble bay, another at the heart of its owner. 
 Still a third with a quick movement rode to 
 his left, thrusting his long sharp pointed sword 
 at Simon s right arm, the one which, if it had
 
 88 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 not been for the gallant horse he bestrode, 
 would surely have slain the Russian. 
 
 Ping! whistled a bullet from Jock s pistol, 
 and before the sword could more than graze 
 Simon s sleeve, the man fell from his saddle 
 writhing, screaming out curses. Andrew, quick 
 to think and to act, knocked up the sword of 
 the one who was vainly striving to let out the 
 life blood of the wildly plunging Ajax. Then, 
 with a dexterous turn, before the ragamuffin 
 could ward off the blow, he spit him, bending 
 him backward until, with eyeballs staring he, 
 too, fell from his horse. Dick and Adam, fol 
 lowing out their young leader s command, fired, 
 each bringing his man to the ground. It was 
 Nathan who winged the fourth, rendering his 
 sword arm useless, while Simon, warding off 
 the lunge at his heart, fiercely thrust, piercing 
 the rest of the ruffianly crew, wheeled about, 
 leaving their dead and dying without one back 
 ward glance. Dashing the rowels of their spurs 
 into their horses flanks, they endeavored to 
 make their escape. Jock and the others would 
 have given chase had not Simon cried, as he 
 made a gesture to stay the pursuit: 
 
 "No, lads ; check your ardor. You have done 
 well ! Spoil it not through rashness. Remem 
 ber Lady Beatrice !" 
 
 Then, seeing that Jock reeled somewhat un 
 steadily in his saddle, he exclaimed anxiously : 
 
 "You are hurt, my lad!" 
 
 Quickly dismounting, he went to the side of 
 the gray stallion saying, as he handed up a
 
 WELL IN THE ENEMY S COUNTRY 89 
 
 leathern flask; "Take a pull of this, my son; t 
 will give you heart!" 
 
 The faintness, which for a moment had 
 partly mastered Jock, passed away as he felt 
 the warm liquid flow down his throat, and with 
 a half-shamed glance he said to his father: 
 
 "You must not think me weak! From the 
 first of the melee, I think there has been a bul 
 let lodged in my left shoulder. But not till you 
 called a halt did I realize how much blood I 
 had lost." 
 
 "Get down, lad. Let me help you. We must 
 look to the dressing of your wound before we 
 go farther." 
 
 With unexpected gentleness, Simon laid bare 
 Jock s shoulder. Saul ran to a brook in the 
 field beyond, filled his leathern hat with water 
 and came and stood beside him. When the 
 blood had been somewhat staunched, Simon 
 made a close examination, finding the bullet had 
 cut its way from one side to the other. Taking 
 from his saddle-bag a roll of old linen, lint and 
 ointment, which he always carried, he soon with 
 Saul s assistance had the wound dressed. With 
 a scarf from the same saddle-bag he made a 
 sling saying, as he carefully lifted the arm to 
 adjust it: 
 
 "There, my lad! Take another pull, then 
 you will be able to ride on. It must be an hour 
 or more since the Count and Lady Beatrice 
 left us." 
 
 Adam and Dick had each a flesh wound 
 scarce worth the mentioning, while Simon and
 
 90 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 the other three men came off unscathed. Once 
 more, with long swift strides, Simon leading 
 with Jock who, in spite of his pain determined 
 to keep neck and neck his gray stallion with 
 Ajax, they pressed rapidly forward, their one 
 thought being to join their young mistress. 
 Simon, after riding some distance on the new 
 road, drew rein the better to listen. Not a 
 sound broke the stillness except the low twitter 
 of birds, the rustling of leaves, the crackling of 
 twigs when some wild thing of the woods step 
 ped upon them. There were reasons why Simon 
 thought it better not to "halloo!" With one 
 glance at Jock s pallid face, pain-drawn, and a 
 half sigh which bespoke in him the father, he 
 struck his spurs lightly and again they rode on 
 ward. More dense grew the foliage, darker the 
 way. Day had become night. The thick 
 branches shut out the stars. Sobbing, as though 
 in pain, came the wind between the hills, a warn 
 ing of approaching storm. 
 
 "Ride faster!" exclaimed Simon. "Spare not 
 the horses!" Then, with more gentle voice, 
 "I am sorry for you, lad. Is the pain great?" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer he cried 
 again; "Faster! Faster!" 
 
 Simon silently questioned where Lady Bea 
 trice might be? Surely he had not mistaken 
 the Count. He was a man of honor. Simon s 
 responsibilities weighed on him as though a 
 mountain were on his back. Then there was his 
 son suffering uncomplainingly. How long could 
 he hold out? The jar and motion, he knew,
 
 WELL IN THE ENEMY S COUNTRY 91 
 
 were racking Jock with pain almost more than 
 mortal could bear. Was that a groan he heard, 
 low, muffled, or had his ears deceived him? 
 Would they never overtake his young lady? 
 Yes, this time, though stifled, he could not mis 
 take the sound. With a sudden movement, 
 Simon brought Ajax to his haunches. Without 
 a word he handed the leathern flask to Jock, 
 who as silently took it. Once more the warm 
 fluid seemed to revive him. Without speaking, 
 father and son leading, riding swiftly as horses 
 could bear them, they again swept on. 
 
 Thus they rode, the wind growing more chill, 
 their horses flagging, until at last Jock exclaimed 
 in husky tones : 
 
 "Listen, father; if I mistake not, I heard a 
 low halloo to the right!" 
 
 "So thought I, lad. I will venture an an 
 swer." 
 
 Clear, shrill, insistent, thrice repeated, rang 
 out the cry of the owl. 
 
 "To-whoo, to-whoo," came a response. Si 
 mon s face lighted with pleasure as he said, 
 turning to Jock: 
 
 "You were right, lad. That was Lady Bea 
 trice. I marked well the quaver; did you not, 
 when first she tried? Let us haste. Take 
 another pull, lad; t will keep the chill from your 
 bones." 
 
 A half league farther, where a cross-road 
 intersected their own, they found Lady Beatrice, 
 the Count and Bess, awaiting them.
 
 92 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "You gave us a wild chase, my lady. Yet it 
 were well for you to push forward." 
 
 "Yes, Simon, so said the Count. Not hear 
 ing you, I grew anxious and, to soothe my fears, 
 the Count hallooed. Didn t you hear him?" 
 
 "Yes, my lady, and also you. But let us 
 onward ! A storm is arising, a severe one, to 
 judge by the wind and many a sign I wot of. 
 Perchance you, Sir Count, can tell us of a shelter 
 near by? Where does this path lead?" 
 
 "Straight to Abbeville town," replied the 
 Count, "which is scarce a league away. I should 
 have advised Lady Beatrice continuing to The 
 Crown had I not feared that in the darkness, 
 made greater by the storm almost upon us, you 
 would have passed this wood road which is but 
 a bridle-path at best. But by taking it we save 
 a longer ride." 
 
 "Then make haste, Sir Count, make haste! 
 Lead the way that we may follow. My lad 
 is sore spent with a wound in his shoulder. Had 
 he not good grit he would long ago have fallen 
 out." 
 
 "No, father, not I ! Yet, for my lady s sake, 
 it were well to hurry. Here the trees shelter us, 
 but, to judge by the sound, the rain already 
 patters down." 
 
 Their horses entered with renewed spirit the 
 narrow defile down whose vista the riders could 
 not see. The Count rode fearlessly forward 
 with Lady Beatrice, undaunted by the gloom, 
 just behind him. Then came Simon with sword 
 unsheathed, followed by Bess, trembling and
 
 WELL IN THE ENEMY S COUNTRY 93 
 
 quaking. As Jock wheeled his horse near her, 
 she did not forget to say : 
 
 "I am sorry for you, lad!" which gave him 
 new strength and courage. 
 
 On reaching the main road they found the 
 rain steadily falling and by the time they arrived 
 at The Crown all, except the Count were de 
 pressed. His thoughts brushed aside all dis 
 comfiture as easily as one would flick a speck 
 of dust from his coat. No ill effects were 
 experienced from their wetting. Dry clothing, 
 a hot supper and a comfortable night s rest 
 refreshed them. When Simon knocked at the 
 door, as it seemed to Lady Beatrice in the mid 
 dle of the night, she made no demur at rising, 
 nor objected to a hearty breakfast by candle 
 light. 
 
 Once more they took to the saddle. Simon s 
 hasty departure, when dawn was just breaking, 
 was a surprise to his young mistress. As they 
 rode along inj the cool of the morning, he 
 explained that large troops of French horse were 
 constantly passing and repassing, at least, so 
 had said the host of The Crown. 
 
 "Therefore, my lady," explained Simon as 
 he touched spur to Ajax, "you see it behooves 
 us to be early on the road, for we are well in 
 the enemy s country and before night falls tis 
 my intention to have you in the care of your 
 grand-dame."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A DANGER AVERTED 
 
 "Then in despite of broad-eyed watchful day, 
 I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts ; 
 But ah, I will not: yet I love thee well." 
 
 King John. 
 
 The rain of the night before had laid the 
 dust. The thick foliage of the outspreading 
 branches swayed by the gentle breeze, shook 
 great pearly drops upon the little party. 
 
 There was a dampness and chilliness in the 
 air. The mist that came up from the river hung 
 above them as they rode through the silent 
 deserted streets of Abbeville. The trees took 
 on fantastic shapes and the houses, with their 
 closely shuttered windows, appeared like a de 
 serted city. 
 
 Leaving the town, they bore away from the 
 river. Simon sent Andrew and Saul ahead, 
 bidding them keep close watch. He was fearful 
 that at some cross-road they might meet those 
 who would bar their progress. It was not long 
 before they looked to Lady Beatrice like a dark 
 smutch on a grayish background. Even while 
 she still heard the soft beat of their horses 
 hoofs, they were lost in the fog. 
 
 "How is it, Simon," inquired his young mis 
 tress, "that Jock was not at table ? I trust you 
 did not have to leave him at The Crown?" 
 94
 
 A DANGER AVERTED 95 
 
 "No, my lady, the lad rides with us. He had 
 no stomach for food. Had I not been afraid 
 he might fall into the hands of the French, I 
 would not have listened to his leaving his bed. 
 But he ever was a stubborn lad, and if he will 
 dance he must pay the piper. God wot whether 
 or no he will be able to keep his saddle until 
 we reach Agincourt." 
 
 "Why such haste, Simon? When we arrive 
 at Crecy, if he be not able to ride, we will 
 tarry." 
 
 "You have a kind heart, Lady Beatrice, but 
 that must not be. He would find the road hard, 
 even though it were straight as the crow flies. 
 If we turn here and there out of our course, 
 as we have done thus far, I doubt not but that 
 the best of us will gladly leave our saddles 
 before Agincourt is in sight." 
 
 Turning to the Count, Simon asked with 
 reluctance : 
 
 "Perchance, Sir Count, you will ride with 
 Lady Beatrice, while I turn back to see how 
 fares my lad. He was not fit to take the road, 
 but if aught happens he can blame himself for 
 being so pig-headed." 
 
 "Simon," chided Lady Beatrice, "how can 
 you talk so? Did you not say there was need 
 for him to come?" 
 
 "Need, my lady? There be always need 
 when young folks be daft about a lass, and 
 bound willy-nilly to have their own way! Sir 
 Count, keep a sharp lookout. I will not trouble 
 you long."
 
 96 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Though they could not see Simon s expres 
 sion, they heard his grim chuckle as he turned 
 Ajax to join Jock. 
 
 "You must know, Mademoiselle de Wotton," 
 said the Count, as Saladin took the place of the 
 bay, "that since catching a glimpse of you by 
 the firelight glow at the inn, after your escape 
 from the robbers, it hath been my fondest hope 
 to wear your colors, that through some brave 
 deed I might prove my fidelity!" 
 
 A merry laugh from Lady Beatrice was 
 quickly checked. To make amends for her 
 rudeness she said demurely: 
 
 "The Comte d Epernon must pardon me. I 
 am not used to courtiers nor the ways of French 
 men. I thought at first your flowery speech was 
 an effort to practice compliments on a country 
 maid. The expression of your eyes seen through 
 the mist, quickly showed me my mistake. They 
 spoke to me of pity or shall I say, kindness, 
 that would assure me protection if aught were 
 to happen to good Simon. Though I appre 
 ciate your intentions, I trust there will arise no 
 need for the service of any but my old hench 
 man and the stout lads who have accompanied 
 me from Wotton. Still, Comte d Epernon, I 
 sincerely thank you." 
 
 As the Count was about to reply Simon, who 
 had been absent only long enough to give Jock 
 a pull from his flask and to caution Adam, in 
 case of an alarm, to take the gray stallion by the 
 bit, that he might lead him out of harm s way
 
 A DANGER AVERTED 97 
 
 now rode up to his young lady, saying as he 
 drew rein near her: 
 
 "When you hear the note of the hermit 
 thrush, my lady, hasten. Until I repeat it make 
 your pace slowly. I like not this river fog." 
 
 As Simon, not trusting altogether to Andrew 
 and Saul, sped swiftly forward, she heard the 
 thud of Ajax s feet, first clear, then muffled. 
 Before the Count could speak further, Lady 
 Beatrice asked: 
 
 "Do you think with Simon that we may meet 
 with troops of French horse?" 
 
 "I know not what to say, mademoiselle. 
 While at The Crown I heard that only the day 
 before my troop from d Epernon had passed 
 through Abbeville. Methinks, had they but 
 known that I were to be in the town twenty-four 
 hours later, they would have waited." 
 
 Through the gray light the Count caught the 
 mischievous expression in the eyes of Lady Bea 
 trice, as she said, the dimples deepening in the 
 corners of her mouth : 
 
 "It is no wonder you were grave at table. I 
 thought you looked sad ! No doubt you were 
 thinking how different would have been your 
 case had you arrived at The Crown a day ear 
 lier. Then you would have forsworn the dull 
 company of today!" 
 
 At that moment, twice repeated, they heard 
 soft and clear, like a sweet trill of promise, 
 Simon s signal. 
 
 They had not noticed how thin the mist had 
 grown. As Lady Beatrice rode swiftly forward,
 
 98 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 the Count caught the gleam of her sunny hair 
 beneath her dark green hat. As Spitfire shot 
 ahead, she called back: 
 
 "A gallop, a gallop!" 
 
 He responded quickly to her laughing chal 
 lenge by touch of spur to Saladin s flank; but so 
 swift was Spitfire s pace that before he could 
 overtake her, Lady Beatrice had reached Ajax, 
 who was waiting in the road, riderless. 
 
 The sun, having absorbed the mist, was now 
 shedding through the overhanging branches its 
 brilliant rays upon a picture which, to the 
 Count s artistic temperament, seemed perfec 
 tion. To the left, half covered with water, 
 stretched away a long vista of marsh land 
 fringed with drooping willows ; to the right were 
 tall poplars, thickly set like sentinels, with here 
 and there a wide-spreading beech flecked with 
 sunlight. Ahead, forming the perspective, was 
 an ascent, gently curving. There the trees were 
 thickly festooned with vine and flowering honey 
 suckle; this flaunted its sweet-scented yellow 
 blossoms like embroidery of gold against the 
 purple of the grapes and the green of the fol 
 iage. In the foreground were the two noble 
 horses, their necks proudly arching, noses rub 
 bing, as though whispering secrets which no 
 other might hear. And there, in her well fit 
 ting habit of green, resplendent with youth and 
 beauty, sat Lady Beatrice on her black palfrey. 
 A deep frill of fine lace encircled her white 
 throat, softly rounded. Her red lips were smil 
 ing, her dimples playing hide and seek, while
 
 A DANGER AVERTED 99 
 
 from beneath her dark lashes looked forth with 
 innocent gaiety, her violet eyes. Gently shad 
 ing the exquisite loveliness of complexion and 
 great masses of golden hair, was a green velvet 
 hat with long floating plumes. One might have 
 thought her a Diana : yes, better, for Lady Bea 
 trice was God s promise of a womanly woman I 
 
 As the Count checked Saladin to admire the 
 young girl from the vantage ground of one 
 who looks at a beautiful picture, their. eyes met. 
 His spoke not only admiration, but love. She, 
 catching the glance, knew that a great thrill of 
 happiness was hers. Simon, before the Count 
 could put into words the thoughts standing tip 
 toe on the threshold of expression, came round 
 the curve. Seeing them waiting, he exclaimed 
 heartily: 
 
 "All is safe, my lady! All is safe!" 
 
 As Simon vaulted into the saddle, he inquired 
 cheerily : 
 
 "Did you wonder where I was?" 
 
 "Yes, Simon, for a moment. Yet I thought 
 you could not be far. Where are Andrew and 
 Saul?" 
 
 "By this time, my lady, they should be two 
 leagues farther on. I found them just beyond 
 the curve waiting at a cross-road not knowing 
 whether to continue straight ahead or no. So 
 far, they have espied no one, not even a peasant. 
 One half this France is marsh and one-fourth of 
 the remainder, though it be pleasant enough to 
 look upon, is not much like England !" 
 
 "Are you not hard in your judgment, Simon?
 
 100 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 I think it a beautiful country. Still, one might 
 prefer England." 
 
 The Count, much to his annoyance, had been 
 obliged to surrender his place to Simon, who 
 rode with his young lady until they reached the 
 outskirts of Crecy. At her suggestion, they did 
 not enter the town, but once more rested for 
 luncheon in a sylvan glade, beneath the leafy 
 shade of a beech. This time Bess waited on her 
 young mistress and the Count: yet she found 
 time to express fear for her lady s complexion, 
 which she felt sure would be spoiled by the 
 sun and the dust of the road, for thus far that 
 day Lady Beatrice had worn no mask. When 
 they resumed their journey, Lady Beatrice ac 
 ceded to Bess s importunities, although as she 
 laughingly declared, if she became brown as a 
 berry it mattered not to her. 
 
 Bess kept Jock company during the long hours 
 of the morning, and more than once when he 
 was obliged to rest, she waited with Adam and 
 by her merry sallies and warm interest in Jock s 
 welfare proved a better stimulant than the 
 liquor in his father s flask. 
 
 Andrew, who had gone into the town to learn 
 whether they might with safety pass through 
 it, returned to report that great preparations 
 were in progress for a troop of French horse, 
 which the host of The Silver Cross had told 
 him was expected any moment. This informa 
 tion changed Simon s plans. He dared not 
 remain where they were lest the neigh of a 
 horse would disclose them to their enemies. He
 
 A DANGER AVERTED 101 
 
 could not pass through Crecy for fear they 
 might be detained by the leader of this company, 
 who, Andrew had ascertained, was the Due de 
 Burgundy. The only course left was to make 
 a detour. This would carry them out of their 
 way, yet, seeing no alternative, they rode smartly 
 into a wood road to the right, not knowing 
 exactly where it led. Their horses, being 
 refreshed, pushed forward rapidly until late 
 afternoon, when they again began to flag. 
 
 They had come out of the wood road beyond 
 Crecy. Simon left Andrew and Saul at the 
 turn to give warning in case the Burgundians 
 took the same direction. Night was approach 
 ing. As far as the eye could see no friendly 
 light gave them welcome. In vain Simon and 
 the Count asked themselves where they should 
 find shelter. Neither recognized the way. By 
 the evening star, which hung like a pale jewel 
 in the sky, Simon, as well as the Count, knew 
 they must be off the beaten track. Already the 
 mist from the marsh with its poisonous exhala 
 tions was enveloping them, when they heard 
 the rhythmical thud of horses feet. Simon 
 called a halt. They felt a safety in numbers, 
 knowing by the sound that there could not be 
 many. At last Simon exclaimed with convic 
 tion: 
 
 "That must be the lads!" 
 
 Andrew s cheerful whistle settled the ques 
 tion. In explanation of their long delay Andrew 
 said they had watched the duke and his com 
 pany of horse resume their journey by the main
 
 102 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 road, till they could no longer see either spear 
 or pennant. Then they had hastened forward, 
 their horses being thoroughly rested by their 
 long halt. Simon bade them ride ahead swiftly 
 to secure an abiding-place for the night. When, 
 indistinctly, their hoof-beats were heard in the 
 distance, the rest of the party again rode on, 
 silently, slowly. Even the most spirited of the 
 horses proceeded with drooping heads, their 
 every step marking the effort. 
 
 It was not long before they heard the soft 
 ripple of the river. Then, farther on, when 
 almost discouraged, they saw looming through 
 the mist, a gigantic shadow. This they had 
 scarcely caught sight of when a shrill whistle, 
 twice repeated, told them that Andrew and Saul 
 had met with success. The latter rejoined them, 
 exclaiming gladly: 
 
 "We have found, scarce a half league from 
 here, not an inn, but a castle." 
 
 "Who knows," cried Lady Beatrice joyfully, 
 "perchance there I ll find my grand-dame!" 
 
 The horses rallied, seeming to realize the 
 renewed hope of their riders. It may be that 
 instinct told them they were soon to have food 
 and rest. Without whip or spur they hastened 
 forward till checked by a draw-bridge and broad 
 deep moat 
 
 Beneath the silvery sheen of the moon, which 
 just then broke through the clouds, the Count 
 recognized, high-towering, well fortressed, the 
 Castle of AgincourtI
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 THE STORM 
 
 "Strong reasons make strong actions." 
 King John. 
 
 "Annette, Annette 1" called Madame Moreau. 
 "Where have you hid yourself, girl? Annette! 
 Ah, you are here. Where have you been? The 
 Earl and his men rode away two hours ago." 
 
 The rosy-cheeked peasant was not as suc 
 cessful as her mistress in hiding the traces of 
 tears. Sorrow comes alike to high and low 
 degree. Annette was a child of nature. The 
 red-haired, blue-eyed Scotchman, Sandy Mc- 
 Pherson, in spite of his ungainliness, had 
 touched her heart. 
 
 "Madame must forgive me," she said, fur 
 tively wiping her eyes on a corner of her clean 
 white apron. "Had I known you needed me, I 
 would have come at once." 
 
 "It is no matter, child," replied her mistress, 
 whose tender heart sympathized with the evi 
 dent sorrow of her pretty waiting-maid. "I did 
 but wish for a ribbon which I have found. Now 
 I am ready for my breakfast." 
 
 As Madame Moreau daintily sipped a warm 
 drink, rich with clotted cream, she asked, toying 
 with a flaky roll: 
 
 103
 
 104 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "What has made you cry, ma bonne fillet Are 
 you not happy with me?" 
 
 "Oh, maiment, Madame Moreau!" cried the 
 little handmaiden quickly. "I am most happy. 
 No girl ever had such a good mistress as An 
 nette!" 
 
 Then she added naievly, half smiling, half 
 sighing: 
 
 "You see, Madame, I am but a peasant, and 
 when he did swear that I was as bonny as any 
 lass in his ain country, and did kiss my cheek, 
 saying at parting, Don t forget me : I shall 
 come back to take you for my little sweetheart, 
 the tears did make my eyes full. Do you think 
 he meant it, Madame? Sandy did speak the 
 French most beautiful, Madame!" 
 
 Words came tardily to her young mistress, 
 for tears were perilously near the surface. But 
 when Madame Moreau saw the anxious expres 
 sion which had crept into Annette s eyes, she 
 said with softened gaiety: 
 
 "Who knows, mon enfantl Not I. It is 
 always better to let them love you till the wed 
 ding ring is on your finger, but to keep your 
 heart whole till such time as you are no longer a 
 maid. Never forget lest deeper sorrow come ! 
 Love is a precious thing, not to be given to the 
 first who asks, nor the second, but must be 
 kept sacred, deep hidden till you are sure that 
 what you deem love be in truth, love." 
 
 She had forgotten to whom she was speaking; 
 forgotten even her surroundings and was liv-
 
 THE STORM 105 
 
 ing in a paradise of her own building; but even 
 there the serpent now reared its head. 
 
 "But, madame," queried Annette, her dark 
 brown eyes opening wide with surprise, "he 
 said he would come. May I show you the token 
 he has given me?" 
 
 "Certainly," said Madame Moreau as she 
 drew away from the table : "but I think I can 
 guess. Was it not a half shilling of English 
 money, silver at that? And did he not bore a 
 hole in it, putting it on a string for you to 
 wear round your neck?" 
 
 Her mistress s merry glance which, like the 
 sunshine of an April day, had absorbed the 
 oncoming shower, caught the uncanny fear 
 which made the soft brown eyes almost black, 
 the slight withdrawal as though from some 
 thing supernatural, the little shiver as, with lips 
 trembling, color fading, Annette cried: 
 
 "Why, madame, did you see him give it to 
 me? But no, you were here ! Sandy did make 
 the hole and put in the pink ribbon in the shed 
 yonder." 
 
 "And tied it round your neck himself, did he 
 not, Annette?" 
 
 "Yes, madame, but how could you know 
 that? Pardon, madame, but can you see what 
 goes on in the shed while you are in the inn?" 
 
 Madame Moreau, who not only enjoyed the 
 surprise of her young handmaiden, but thought 
 to impart, through her superstitious fears, a 
 belief in her own watchful supervision which
 
 106 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 should stand in good stead to so pretty a maid, 
 answered her question by asking another : 
 
 "Have I not told you as it was, Annette? 
 Did he not kiss you both on your lips and the 
 nape of your neck, when you took from his 
 clumsy fingers the ribbon, the better to tie it?" 
 
 Annette s quick wit suggested to her that she 
 follow her mistress s example; so with many an 
 exclamation of delight she showed Madame 
 Moreau the gold piece which the Earl had given 
 her that morning, repeating his message. 
 
 "He was most kind," said her mistress, a 
 faraway look coming into her eyes which An 
 nette was quick to perceive, "most kind." 
 
 Then, with a slight shake of her head, as 
 though to free herself from troublesome 
 thoughts, she went to the window. As she 
 looked at the lowering sky she said anxiously : 
 
 "I fear, Annette, they, as well as you and I, 
 will have a stormy day for their journey." 
 Then, as if speaking to herself, "I am well 
 pleased that I was here yesterday. It is so 
 seldom that I am at The Silver Moon." 
 
 "How soon does Madame start?" asked An 
 nette, as she put the finishing touch to the room. 
 "Shall I lay out Madame s claret pelisse, or 
 her dark blue?" 
 
 "Neither, Annette; today I travel in a peas 
 ant garb like your own. We will not ride in 
 the coach but in the cart, with the two strong 
 horses that brought us here." 
 
 "But surely, Madame Moreau, we do not
 
 THE STORM 107 
 
 go in this way to Paris, with only Jean and Bap- 
 tiste!" 
 
 "Yes, my good girl, with only Jean and Bap- 
 tiste. By this time the King and Dauphin are 
 at Rouen, and I have business to transact at 
 Paris which brooks no delay." 
 
 Madame Moreau, as she stepped into the 
 covered cart, which, beside herself and Annette, 
 held bales of wool on which both the women 
 sat, and several large wicker baskets filled with 
 grapes, looking like great rubies, amethysts and 
 pearls, against their dark green leaves, appeared 
 to the full the part that she was playing. The 
 Earl, had he seen her then in her wooden sabots, 
 red kirtle and well-fitting blue bodice laced be 
 hind and before, her full bishop sleeves of 
 coarse white linen and gay neckerchief; her hair 
 covered with a square of silk folded cornerwise, 
 as bright in its coloring as the rest of her 
 costume, would have taken her for a beautiful 
 peasant, in spite of certain crow s feet at the 
 corners of her eyes and mouth, and the nut- 
 brown color of her complexion. This was not 
 the tan of outdoor exposure, but a dye or wash 
 which Annette had applied not only to her face 
 and neck, but to her hands and arms. The deep 
 lines beneath her eyes and the little marks at 
 their corners were intended to add to her age, 
 and had been deftly traced by herself. Her 
 disguise was perfect. 
 
 Jean and Baptiste, in reality her coachman 
 and footman, wore now the dress of the well- 
 to-do peasant. Though not as successful as
 
 108 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 their mistress in conforming to the character 
 they had assumed, they yet loved her too well 
 not to endeavor to do their best in carrying out 
 her wishes. For a short distance, a league or 
 more, they took the same road that the Earl 
 had taken several hours before; then turned to 
 the right. They continued their journey be 
 neath the shelter of tall trees till noon; then 
 halted, but only for a brief time. The wind 
 which blew in fitful gusts swaying the great 
 limbs over their heads, warned Madame Mo- 
 reau that the storm she had feared was likely 
 to break before they could reach the cottage of 
 her foster-mother, where she intended taking 
 shelter for the night. 
 
 "What do you think, Jean," asked his young 
 mistress flicking from her bodice a few crumbs, 
 "will the storm be upon us before dark?" 
 
 "I fear by the moan in the wind, my lady," 
 replied Jean respectfully, "that in less than an 
 hour the rain will fall." 
 
 "Then drive the faster," answered his mis 
 tress, preparing to make herself comfortable 
 by having Annette put a bundle of wool behind 
 her back. "It looks as though we should get 
 a wetting!" 
 
 "No, madame, there s no need of that. I can 
 drop the leather curtain and, as to the cover of 
 the cart, that is rain-proof." 
 
 On they drove, the rising wind sounding at 
 times through the leafy aisles of the forest like 
 a Titanic cry of distress. Then, becoming more
 
 THE STORM 109 
 
 violent, it fairly shrieked till Annette, in her 
 terror, cried out: 
 
 "O Madame, beg le bon Dieu to save usl" 
 
 The cart creaked: the horses strained: Jean s 
 whip cracked. But over and above all the storm. 
 Thus far there had been no rain till, at last, with 
 a great blast which seemed to shake the trees 
 to their very foundation, it fell in blinding 
 sheets. Baptiste had drawn the leather curtain 
 while Annette had fastened it, as she thought, 
 securely; but nothing could withstand the force 
 of the wind. Madame Moreau felt no terror; 
 she was fearless. But poor Annette sobbed with 
 fright. 
 
 At last, after lopping great branches, the 
 wind, not satisfied with its work of destruction, 
 its wailing, its screeching, came with such force 
 as to fell one of the monarchs of the forest, a 
 tree centuries old. There it lay quivering like a 
 live thing, its branches distended, impeding the 
 way. The horses backed, then reared and 
 plunged, terrified, almost upsetting the cart in 
 their mad desire to escape. Jean was an expert 
 horseman and with reins tightly gripped and 
 hands strong and steady, he succeeded in quiet 
 ing the maddened brutes by the very force of 
 his dominant will. As to Baptiste, had he dared, 
 he would have sobbed with Annette. 
 
 It was a terrific storm. The rain fell in tor 
 rents. The strange sounds of the forest which 
 they now heard more distinctly, became alarm 
 ing. Madame Moreau said cheerily to An 
 nette :
 
 110 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Cease your crying, mon enfant. Le bon 
 Dieu careth for His own. Remember you con 
 fessed last week!" 
 
 "What shall we do, my lady?" asked Jean in 
 a lull of the wind. 
 
 "Do?" queried Madame Moreau. "What 
 is there that we can do till the storm abates? 
 Then you and Baptiste can remove the fallen 
 tree from the road." 
 
 "That, my lady," answered Jean, "can be 
 done now, for we have a stout axe. It would 
 not be the first time that Baptiste and I were 
 out in the rain." 
 
 "No, good Jean," replied his mistress. "It 
 is not worth your while to get wet to the skin 
 when you can avoid it. We are in the belt of 
 the storm. Do you think the party that stopped 
 last night at The Silver Moon, the Earl of 
 Wotton, could have ridden beyond it? As may 
 hap you know, they were bound for Harfleur." 
 
 "If that be so, my lady, they are catching it 
 now, for their road takes them near the gray 
 marshes, a point which they must have reached 
 by this. There the wind has full sweep!" 
 
 Madame Moreau had suffered too much from 
 the lack of consideration and the tyranny of 
 others, not to have in her dealings with those in 
 a lower grade of life than herself, a constant 
 care for their comfort. So she again expressed 
 her willingness to wait and see if the storm 
 would not quickly pass over. 
 
 Annette, lacking discipline, impulsive, untried, 
 would gladly, in spite of the rain, have let the
 
 THE STORM 111 
 
 men begin chopping the tree at once. Madame 
 Moreau shut out her surroundings by taking 
 another peep at her paradise ; this time, to judge 
 by her expression, the serpent was not there. 
 A pleasant reverie is a panacea for dull com 
 pany; at least, so it proved to Madame Moreau. 
 
 Annette, even while she fingered the ribbon 
 that held the broken shilling, bridled and smiled, 
 and for a brief moment forgot the storm, as she 
 caught the love light in the eyes of Baptiste. 
 
 They had been obliged to roll up the leather 
 curtain for the wind had torn away its fasten 
 ings. Their young mistress had laughingly de 
 clared that its flapping and blowing into the 
 cart brought more discomfort than the rain. 
 Three hours later, as the sun was dropping 
 below the range of hills to the left, Jean drew 
 up at a vine-covered cottage sitting well back 
 from the road. 
 
 Baptiste assisted his lady to alight. Stand 
 ing in the doorway was the mother of Annette, 
 looking scarce older, though more buxom, than 
 her daughter. She welcomed Madame Moreau 
 as only a foster-mother can, saying with a 
 cheery smile : 
 
 "Would that your mother were living to see 
 you as you are now I" 
 
 "Not so, good Rosette," replied Madame 
 Moreau with a sad smile. "It is far better as 
 it is."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 PLANS THWARTED 
 
 "The spirit of the time shall teach me speed." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Madame Moreau s superabundant vitality 
 had stood her in good stead. Although exposed 
 to the seventy of the storm, she suffered no ill 
 effects. On her arrival at the woodland cot 
 tage, her foster-mother, with many a shrug of 
 her fat shoulders, insisted on her laying off her 
 wet garments, then sitting down to an appetiz 
 ing supper. She brought Madam Moreau a 
 cup of hot posset, saying coaxingly, as though 
 she were still a child: 
 
 "Drink, my lady. Le bon Dieu knows it s 
 not bad." 
 
 Former experiences had taught Madame 
 Moreau how the unsavory mixture of garden 
 herbs and mulled wine tasted, yet she took it, 
 not because she deemed it necessary, but to 
 please her old nurse, Rosette. 
 
 Her foster-mother, rising early the next 
 morning, quickly tidied the sunny kitchen and 
 prepared before the blazing fire, a breakfast 
 for her dear young mistress. A savory stew 
 made of dried peas was sending a delicious 
 fragrance through the room when Jean brought 
 in a great goose which was to be roasted for 
 them to take on their journey. Baptiste had not 
 112
 
 PLANS THWARTED 113 
 
 been allowed to remain idle. Long before 
 Rosette s oven was heated, she had him taking 
 out the bales of wool that had been drying 
 through the night on the great hearth. Now he 
 was busily employed gathering materials in the 
 garden for a salad. Twice already Rosette had 
 been out to see that the horses were properly 
 fed, and once to hasten Annette at her milking, 
 mistrusting that she was doing more talking 
 with Baptiste than work. Rosette was an active 
 woman and always contrived to keep others 
 busy as well as herself. 
 
 The table was spread and drawn into the sun 
 niest window. In the centre of the fine white 
 cloth, woven by her own deft fingers, was an 
 earthen pot of mignonette fragrant with bloom. 
 She had not forgotten that this was a favorite 
 flower of her little Irene when, with toddling 
 feet, she had cried: 
 
 "Oh, les fleurs jolies, les fleurs jolies au bon 
 Dieuf" 
 
 Irene had lived with her foster mother until 
 her father, the Marquis, had placed her with 
 the good sisters at Vincennes. There she re 
 mained until she was sixteen, as ward of the 
 King. Her mother s duties as maid-of-the-robes 
 for Queen Isabel, made it impossible for her 
 to pass more than a few hours at a time with 
 her only child. Five years after the loss of his 
 wife, who had died very suddenly when Irene 
 was about three years old, her father had met 
 his death while hunting with the king. It was 
 called an accident, but in the light of later de-
 
 114 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 velopments there were those who believed, 
 though they scarcely dared whisper it, that there 
 was something suspicious connected with the 
 death of both parents. 
 
 Irene s mother was born in Seville and had 
 possessed the ardent sunny temperament of the 
 Andalusians. Her s had been a love match. 
 Irene had inherited not only her beauty of fea 
 ture and form, but her nobility of soul. The 
 Marquis, after his wife s death, had left Paris, 
 living for two years in strict retirement, near 
 Avignon, his birthplace. Then, on being sum 
 moned to the king, Charles the Sixth, he had 
 returned to the hostel Saint Pol. It was on his 
 way thither that he had taken Irene from 
 Rosette, to confide her to the good sisters care. 
 
 His estates were large. The duke, who was 
 still living at the time of his son s death, owing 
 to certain vows taken years before, had resigned 
 his immense wealth, both of lands and gold, to 
 his only child, Irene s father, and voluntarily 
 became a stranger to the country of his birth. 
 
 "Bon jour, ma bonne Rosette!" exclaimed 
 Madame Moreau as, with laughing eyes she 
 tiptoed into the kitchen. "The odor of break 
 fast drew me as the sun after the rain doth 
 draw the flowers." Rosette s full moon of a 
 face, red with the heat of the fire, glowed with 
 delighted satisfaction. 
 
 "Thou seest, ma petite," said the good soul, 
 "I have not forgotten how to cook: that s why 
 thy Rosette is making so many a toothsome
 
 PLANS THWARTED 115 
 
 pasty. She well knoweth that thou wilt find 
 nothing fit to eat till thou dost reach Rouen." 
 
 Breakfast over, Jean drove up to the door, 
 and Madame Moreau, once more settling her 
 self on the bales of wool, looked with surprise 
 at the large stock of provisions which her fos 
 ter-mother had so generously provided. To her 
 mind there seemed sufficient to last even through 
 their stay in Paris. 
 
 On parting she pressed into Rosette s capa 
 cious hand a silk purse well filled with Louis 
 d ors, more money than the good woman had 
 ever seen before in her tranquil life. Amid 
 voluble thanks and adieux, the cart rolled away 
 from the cottage. The sun was shining brightly 
 and all nature, invigorated by the rain, had 
 taken on a more vivid hue and a cleanliness of 
 aspect very pleasing to the eye. It was the 
 same day, though somewhat earlier in the morn 
 ing, on which Lady Beatrice had ridden away 
 from The Three Crows. The warmth of sum 
 mer was in the air. The roads which Madame 
 Moreau felt obliged to travel, were not in as 
 good condition as those over which Lady Bea 
 trice, riding so gaily, had made the acquaint 
 ance of Monsieur le Comte d Epernon. Madame 
 Moreau had not chosen the highway. The 
 great wheels sank into deep hollows which had 
 been filled with water but were now thick with 
 mud. The rough and sodden state of the road 
 prevented their advancing as rapidly as she 
 wished. More than once Jean and Baptiste 
 were obliged to clear from their way fallen
 
 116 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 trees and large branches, the destructive work 
 of the ruthless wind. 
 
 Madame Moreau had not thought it neces 
 sary to explain to her foster-mother that she 
 did not intend stopping at Rouen. Her great 
 est desire was to avoid the Court party, as well 
 as the French troops who were massing in large 
 numbers. At noon their way was impeded by 
 a brook, a broad shallow stream which one 
 might ordinarily have waded without wetting 
 the ankles, but the great fall of rain the day 
 before had swollen it until, at the point where 
 the road crossed, it had become a deep river. 
 As the horses attempted to ford it, one, slipping 
 on a smooth pebble, stumbled and lost his foot 
 ing. As he fell floundering into the stream, a 
 piece of the harness gave way. Had it not 
 been for the coolness of Madame Moreau and 
 Jean the accident might have proved disastrous. 
 Madame, catching Annette by the shoulder, 
 pulled her without ceremony to her side of the 
 cart, thus bringing the weight to that part which 
 was tipped in the air. This, with Jean s prompt 
 ness of action, saved it from capsizing. When 
 the horse had regained his footing a bad cut 
 was found on his side. The harness had not 
 only been broken by his fall, but more seriously 
 impaired through the united efforts of Jean and 
 Baptiste to release him from his mate. 
 
 Madame s forethought in having suggested 
 to Jean that they take a large coil of rope from 
 the cottage, saved the situation, otherwise they 
 would have been hopelessly stranded. The cart
 
 PLANS THWARTED 117 
 
 was in the middle of the river. Their mistress 
 merrily declared that while it contained herself 
 and Annette there was no danger of being car 
 ried down stream. This little adventure, while 
 disarranging Madame Moreau s plans, clearly 
 manifested the strength of her sunny disposi 
 tion, her presence of mind and her resourceful 
 ness. The greater part of the afternoon had 
 elapsed before they again started on their jour 
 ney. Night fell. They progressed slowly. The 
 stars came out, but the trees met too often 
 overhead to make their light of service. 
 Madame Moreau, who had not planned to re 
 main out through the night wondered, while 
 jogging onward, what course they had best 
 pursue. She had hoped to reach a small inn 
 which, according to her reckoning, must even 
 then be six leagues away. The horses were 
 worn out. Her tender heart would not consent 
 to their being driven farther. On reaching an 
 open space surrounded by large trees, where the 
 land was higher, she made up her mind to halt 
 until daylight. When she told Jean of her 
 intention, Baptiste and Annette exclaimed sim 
 ultaneously : 
 
 "Oh, Madame, don t!" 
 
 Even Jean wondered if it would not be wiser 
 for them to push on till they could find a char 
 coal burner s hut. But Madame Moreau, hav 
 ing once decided as she believed best, was not 
 easily turned.
 
 CHAPTER XIII, 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 "Who hath read, or heard, 
 Of any kindred action like to this?" 
 King John. 
 
 When the horses were released from the 
 cart and watered, Jean tethered them within 
 the circle of trees, saying to his mistress : 
 
 "Mayhap Madame has not thought of the 
 danger that prowls by night through the for 
 est?" 
 
 "We will not cross a bridge, Jean, till we 
 come to it," said Madame Moreau cheerfully. 
 
 Annette, who had been preparing supper, 
 shivered at Jean s words. Her mistress, as she 
 set down the glass of wine she was sipping, said, 
 without sign of fear : 
 
 "We will trust in le bon Dieu. Jean, see to 
 it that the ointment is applied to the poor ani 
 mal s ugly cut, for it must be healed." 
 
 Catching the sound of Annette s quick in 
 drawn breath, she said gaily, "You will have to 
 meet worse dangers than those of which Jean 
 speaks. Eat your supper. It will help to give 
 you a stout heart." 
 
 Getting down from the cart Madame Moreau 
 looked up to the dark blue zenith studded 
 thickly with stars. As she watched the great 
 
 118
 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE 119 
 
 planet, Jupiter, with its steady light, her mind 
 reverted to many things connected with her 
 past. She was aware before starting on this 
 journey of the dangers that might beset her 
 way. The wild things of the wood were, to her, 
 not half so much to be feared as man. Sending 
 up a silent prayer for protection, she turned to 
 Jean saying cheerfully: 
 
 "Build a good fire in the center of the glade 
 and keep it burning; naught more thoroughly 
 scares off beasts of prey." 
 
 Jean knew that owing to the heavy rain of 
 the day before it would be a task to find dry 
 fuel. He was aware that in a steady blaze lay 
 their only chance of safety. Already he had 
 heard that which sent cold thrills running down 
 his spine. This was no reflection upon his cour 
 age. The bravest of men would rather stand 
 up against his kind than face a pack of hungry 
 wolves. Madame Moreau did not undervalue 
 the perils which the night might bring, and 
 realized that every precaution should be taken. 
 She met the thought of lurking foe with the 
 same dauntless courage that had supported her 
 for the past two years. The fire burned 
 brightly. Near it lay two large piles of sticks. 
 The bundles of wool were spread out in the 
 bottom of the cart with a blanket over them, 
 making a comfortable bed. The men, weary 
 with their day s labor, had thrown themselves 
 upon the ground and were now snoring loudly. 
 Annette, too, was asleep. All around could 
 be heard the mysterious noises of the night
 
 120 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 those sounds so hard to define, yet which speak 
 to us with countless voices of the wondrous 
 power of God. Madame Moreau sat on the 
 driver s seat lost in deep reverie. She was 
 reflecting on her past, her present, and her 
 future. Suddenly she was aroused by a sharp 
 neigh from one of the horses and, before her 
 scattered thoughts could take in the situation, 
 both were stamping and whinnying piteously. 
 Amidst all this din Annette and the two men 
 slept on. 
 
 The moon had risen, making the glade almost 
 as bright as day. Quickly Madame Moreau 
 jumped from the cart and, running to where 
 Jean was lying, whispered close to his ear: 
 
 "Jean, awake! Awake, Jean!" 
 
 Catching up a couple of large sticks, she 
 thrust them into the fire and by the time Jean 
 was on his feet, thrust one, all ablaze, into his 
 hand, hastened with the other toward the 
 frightened horses, whose instinct was keener 
 than hers. As the light of the torch flamed 
 higher Jean rushed past her, crying out shrilly: 
 
 "Back, my lady, back!" 
 
 It was well. A gaunt, hungry wolf had been 
 stealing up to the horses and, catching sight of 
 the blazing brand, turned his attention to 
 Madame Moreau. The united efforts of Jean 
 and Madame Moreau intimidated the brute, 
 and he slunk back into the darkness. As Jean s 
 young mistress turned to him, he cried excitedly : 
 
 "The horses will have to be fastened to the 
 cart. It will not do to leave them here, out of
 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE 121 
 
 the circle of light. Baptiste! Baptiste!" he 
 called, but vainly, for both Baptiste and Annette 
 were sound sleepers. 
 
 Madame Moreau did not wish her hand 
 maiden to waken. For her own part she would 
 have preferred that Baptiste should sleep also, 
 thinking him full as much a coward as the maid. 
 So she said, reaching out for Jean s torch: 
 
 "Unfasten the near horse and I will lead him 
 to the cart; then follow with the other." 
 
 Before Jean could undo the stout leather 
 thong, their enemy returned and this time was 
 not alone. Once more Madame Moreau swung 
 her brightly lighted torch with such vigor that 
 the two wolves drew back, snapping and snarl 
 ing. Jean, who at last succeeded in unbuckling 
 the strap, nearly lost his footing as the horse, 
 fearful of the torch, reared and plunged. 
 
 "It s no use," said Madame Moreau. "You 
 must leave me here to protect the other whilst 
 you take time to secure each firmly. Give no 
 thought to me; I will care for myself." 
 
 Jean knew that when his mistress spoke in 
 that tone she expected to be obeyed. Holding 
 firmly the headstall of the horse, he hesitated, 
 till she exclaimed earnestly: 
 
 "Hurry, Jean, hurry!" 
 
 A sound in the distance like the baying of 
 dogs warned him that the whole pack was ap 
 proaching. As he passed Baptiste he gave him 
 a vigorous kick in the side, saying, "Get up, 
 man, get up !" Baptiste, rising partly to a sitting 
 posture, only grunted : then, turning over on his
 
 122 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 other side he began snoring again with renewed 
 zest. Madame Moreau now held both the 
 torches. It was evident the wolves did not 
 mean to be balked of their prey. Quick as a 
 flash, as one came too near, she struck him 
 between the eyes. With a loud howl he re 
 treated. His cries of pain only seemed to 
 make the others more ferocious. Turning from 
 the horse it made straightway for the brave 
 woman, who was determined to save the poor 
 animal at all hazards. The wolf s teeth 
 gleamed; the cruel eyes flashed; its snarls be 
 came blood-curling. Still Madame Moreau 
 stood her ground, whirling her torches with 
 such rapidity that the light and smoke fairly 
 dazzled her eyes. At that moment Jean joined 
 her. Being a skilled marksman he took good 
 aim and fired as the brute once more attempted 
 to spring at his mistress. With a shriek, half 
 human, half brutish, white teeth gleaming, and 
 eyes flashing, the wolf sprang at the dauntless 
 woman, but before the savage creature could 
 reach her a bullet had done its work. With a 
 terrific howl, the wolf fell dead at her feet. 
 
 "Quick, Jean!" cried his mistress. "Quick, 
 release the other horse while you have time. 
 Heard you not the long loping steps of others? 
 Do not heed me. Attend to your work!" 
 
 A growl, a rasping sound of gritting teeth, 
 made Madame Moreau turn quickly. There, 
 stealing upon her, with phosphorescent eyes 
 gleaming in the darkness, was a long gray wolf. 
 Jean, who had dashed away to do her bidding,
 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE 123 
 
 did not know of his mistress s peril. She, think 
 ing more of the dumb animal s safety than of 
 herself, forbore to cry out. Thrusting the blaz 
 ing brand with a sweep of her left arm into the 
 wolf s very mouth, now widely opened, she at 
 the same time swirled with great swiftness to 
 one side, thus escaping the long cruel fangs. 
 The maddened brute, made more relentless by 
 his burning mouth, whirled about to renew the 
 attack. In her excitement Madame Moreau 
 dropped one of the torches. The other was but 
 a poor weapon to stand between her and the 
 great extended jaws, sure of their prey. With 
 a swift prayer and a courage unsurpassed, in 
 stead of fainting or running, even while its hot 
 breath filled with foul odors fanned her cheek, 
 she carried the attack into the enemy s country. 
 As the wolf sprang toward her she jumped to 
 the right yet nearer him than before, and dashed 
 with all her force the burning end of the torch 
 into his blood-shot eyes. Ping! humming, in 
 sistent, flew a messenger of death from Jean s 
 pistol. The great monster fell, its life blood 
 spattering Madame Moreau s hand. She, dis 
 gusted, woman-like, began to wipe it off on the 
 skirt of her gown. 
 
 Through the whole Annette and Baptiste 
 slept on. Jean helped his mistress back to the 
 driver s seat where, for a moment, she sat 
 trembling, faint and exhausted. There was 
 little time to give way. Jean awakened Baptiste, 
 threw more wood on the fire, prepared more 
 torches. Knowing that Madame Moreau was
 
 124 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 as good a shot as himself he laid four loaded 
 pistols on the seat beside her, with powder and 
 balls, saying: 
 
 "These pistols are Baptiste s and mine. You, 
 I believe, Madame, carry one of your own. We 
 will attack them by fire as they draw near and 
 whenever you have a chance for a shot, take it!" 
 
 There was no thought in Jean s mind at that 
 moment that he was Madame Moreau s coach 
 man. He felt himself a man, her defender. As 
 for Baptiste, Jean looked upon him as a 
 coward ! 
 
 And well he might. With knees shaking, 
 teeth chattering, face blanched to the hue of 
 death, and arms hanging listlessly by his side 
 surely Jean s opinion was well grounded. 
 Thrusting a lighted torch into Baptiste s nerve 
 less hand, Jean exclaimed in a tense voice : 
 
 "Take care of yourself ! You can at least do 
 that!" 
 
 Then with a blazing brand in his left hand 
 and his sword, a short stout blade, in his right, 
 Jean awaited the rush of the snarling, snapping 
 pack. As one pushed his long nose through the 
 tangle of brush, Madame Moreau took aim and 
 fired, while Jean, in his excitement cried out, 
 "Brava !" He had seen the wolf fall. 
 
 On came three, more venturesome than the 
 rest, dashing into the clearing together. Once 
 more Madame Moreau pressed the trigger. 
 This time her aim was sure, but as she attempted 
 to lift the third pistol from where it lay on the 
 seat, her arm was caught from behind and
 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE 125 
 
 Annette s terrified cry, "Bon Dieu!" rang in her 
 ears. The bullet went wide of its mark. 
 
 "Down, Annette, down!" cried her mistress 
 in tones the little handmaiden had never heard. 
 "Don t dare touch my arm again. Don t dare !" 
 
 She would have set her to work reloading but 
 knew that in her present condition of fright it 
 would be futile. It was a fight for life carried 
 on by a woman, scarce nineteen, and by one 
 whom the French call, the "canaille." No 
 belted knight could have shown greater heroism 
 than did Jean, Madame Moreau s coachman. 
 As for Baptiste, long before the struggle was 
 over, he had crawled into the cart with Annette !
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 THE CHATEAU DES CLERES 
 
 "I would I knew his mind." 
 
 They arrived at Yvetot, after their terrible 
 night s experience with the wolves, about seven 
 in the morning. Here they exchanged horses. 
 It was late in the forenoon before they were 
 able to set out for a small hamlet five leagues 
 farther on. While travelling Madame Moreau 
 and Annette slept on the bales of wool; the 
 sudden stopping of the cart aroused them. 
 
 That night at the humble inn, Jean s mis 
 tress was glad to retire early, awakening the 
 next morning refreshed. She knew it was essen 
 tial to push forward as rapidly as possible to 
 meet her appointment at Cleres. When in the 
 distance she saw the Chateau where lived the 
 Countess, her friend, she turned to Jean, saying 
 with a weary sigh : 
 
 "You and Baptiste will put up at Madame 
 Loudre s. At nine this evening, inquire at the 
 Park gate for Madame Moreau. Be sure you 
 are punctual ! I will be there. As for you, 
 Baptiste, be cautious and say naught about your 
 mistress. Now, Jean, check the horses beneath 
 the shade of this tree that I and Annette may 
 walk to the lodge." 
 
 126
 
 THE CHATEAU DBS CLERES 127 
 
 It was her intention, if the agent whom she 
 expected from Paris was awaiting her, to con 
 tinue on the next morning to Petit Audelys, 
 there to remain a few weeks with friends. If 
 the agent did not come, as agreed upon, she felt 
 it would be necessary to extend her journey so 
 as to consult with her father s former friend, 
 Juvenal des Ursins. It had been over a year 
 since, in her great trouble, he had advised her 
 to leave the Court and keep in hiding until 
 times were more settled in France. 
 
 Madame Moreau and Annette having 
 knocked loudly at a small postern door near the 
 lodge-keeper s cottage at the Chateau of Cleres, 
 were impatiently waiting to be let in. The grill 
 opened and Jacques, a trusty attendant, in 
 quired: 
 
 "What is wanted?" , 
 Madame Moreau answered in a low tone : 
 
 "Jacques, I am your mistress s friend. 
 Amour des deux. " 
 
 With a rattling of bolts and a jangling of 
 keys, the door flew open. A broad smile over 
 spread Jacques face as he exclaimed: 
 
 "Bienvenue, Madame! Entrez done!" 
 
 When the gate fell to behind Annette, he 
 turned to re-lock the door, saying respectfully: 
 "If Madame will wait, I will conduct her to the 
 Chateau." 
 
 "No need, Jacques," replied Madame Mor 
 eau, "I know the way. Is your mistress alone?" 
 
 "Yes, Madame," replied Jacques, still fum 
 bling with the keys. "She is sick and lonely,
 
 128 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 as usual. Madame will meet with no one if 
 she enters by the stone stairway, but here is 
 Lizette. I will send her to unfasten the baize 
 door if it should hap to be locked. Lizette! 
 Lizette !" 
 
 "Coming, grandpere, coming!" cried a fair 
 child of ten, running toward them. 
 
 "Hark ye, Lizette, these two peasants are 
 from Madame s old home. Take them in by the 
 stone stairway and, if the green door be fast, 
 unlock it. Then show them to Madame s room, 
 first seeing whether or no she s by herself. Do 
 you understand?" 
 
 "Out, mon grandpere." 
 
 The child, with yellow locks flying, danced 
 before them, turning every now and then to say 
 brightly : 
 
 "This way, this way!" 
 
 Then as they reached the chateau she opened 
 a small door in the west wing and began swiftly 
 to mount the stairs, they following more slowly. 
 From the time the child appeared, Madame 
 Moreau had not spoken, but kept her eyes bent 
 on the ground. At the top of the flight they 
 found the door open, but their little guide was 
 nowhere to be seen. Madame Moreau started 
 to walk down the dimly lighted corridor, and as 
 she turned a sharp angle almost collided with 
 Lizette. 
 
 "This way," said the child. "I told Madame, 
 and she said for you to come right away!" 
 
 Annette, giving her a sou, thanked her, saying 
 pleasantly:
 
 THE CHATEAU DBS CLERES 129 
 
 "Take that for your trouble." 
 
 Madame Moreau s hand was on the latch. 
 The great carved door swung open, and Annette 
 found herself with Madame in a spacious 
 chamber, whose only occupant was an invalid 
 lying on a broad divan in the recess of the oriel 
 window. Obeying a gesture from her mistress, 
 she fastened the door, waiting to see what next. 
 Madame Moreau hastened to her friend s side, 
 who exclaimed: 
 
 "Irene, Irene ! In this guise? From whence 
 did you come?" 
 
 "Shi Sh!" said Madame Moreau. "Call 
 me not by that name. Walls have ears. Are 
 you sure there is no one near?" 
 
 "No one, mon amie, no one." 
 
 "Hath not Alphonse De Witte arrived, Es : 
 telle?" said Madame Moreau anxiously. "He 
 should be here. And where is Saint Etienne?" 
 
 "You ask, mon amie, whether the brave Al 
 phonse has reached Cleres? Did you expect 
 him to be punctual? If I were you, I should not 
 have such faith, but then, ma chere, you are not 
 a faded flower like your poor Estelle, but a rose 
 just ready to bloom ! 
 
 "As to Saint Etienne," she added, spreading 
 out her hands in a comprehensive gesture, 
 "where, oh, where? Ask me not." 
 
 Her comparison reminded Madame Moreau 
 of the Earl of Wotton, and brought vividly to 
 her mind the little salon at The Silver Moon, 
 the dainty supper and the expression which
 
 130 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 more than once she had caught in the Earl s 
 kindly gray eyes. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, ma chere amie? 
 Your smile warms the spot where once I had 
 a heart! But you must be famished." 
 
 "No, dearest Estelle, only fatigued from my 
 journey and annoyed to think that Monsieur De 
 Witte has not arrived. Should he not reach 
 here by noon of the morrow, I shall feel com 
 pelled to go on to Paris." 
 
 "Not, surely, to that corrupt city, ma chere? 
 But there ! one of your lovers must be either 
 at Vernon or Rouen !" 
 
 "Had I not known, kindest of friends, that 
 the Court was not at Paris," replied Madame 
 Moreau, "I should not have attempted this 
 journey. It is of the gravest importance for me 
 to know the mind of Juvenal des Ursins. If 
 his agent does not come, I have no alternative." 
 
 "But, ma belle" replied the Countess," even 
 des Ursins may be at Rouen." 
 
 "That may be true. Yet methinks he ll 
 scarce be there. If I do not see Monsieur De 
 Witte, I must go to Paris."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "For never anything can be amiss, 
 When simpleness and duty tender it." 
 A Midsummer Night s Dream. 
 
 The evening of the day on which Madame 
 Moreau arrived at the Chateau de Cleres was 
 the same as that on which Lady Beatrice waited, 
 while Simon hailed loudly the keeper of the 
 drawbridge at Agincourt. The moon had just 
 risen and threw fantastic pictures on the great 
 battlements and towers and made the chains 
 which held up the bridge gleam like molten 
 silver. The water was high in the moat, offen 
 sive of odor, as though its sluggish depths had 
 been recently stirred. 
 
 "What ho ye! what ho!" cried Simon, in 
 stentorian tones. "What ho ye ! what ho ! down 
 with the drawbridge!" 
 
 Listening intently they heard a loud rumble, 
 the clang of a door, heavy steps climbing slowly, 
 then a voice from the shadow of the turret 
 shouted back as loudly as Simon s own : 
 
 "Who challenges the hospitality of Agin 
 court?" 
 
 "One Simon of Wotton, with his young lady, 
 the grand-daughter of the Duchess de Berry. 
 Open, man; keep us not tarrying here. We 
 
 131
 
 132 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 are tired with long riding and fasting. Open! 
 I say, open!" 
 
 Lady Beatrice smiled. In spite of her weari 
 ness she could not help feeling amused as she 
 marked the tone and manner in which Simon de 
 manded admittance. She knew, deep down in 
 her heart, none could be kinder than he. The 
 man on the battlement, being a Frenchman, on 
 hearing that a lady was waiting and she the 
 grand-daughter of their visitor, the Duchess de 
 Berry, stepped more quickly than when climbing 
 the ladder, though he grumbled beneath his 
 breath, saying, as he drew back the bolts : 
 
 "Sacre Dieu! These Anglais are boors at 
 the best!" 
 
 The little party heard a dull clanking of 
 chains, the rattling of bolts, loud creaking, then 
 shouts mingling with the clatter of feet on the 
 stone-paved court-yard. Amid the deafening 
 din, a sound as of a huge monster tortured, dis 
 tressed, the portcullis lifted. Released from its 
 bonds, the great drawbridge spanned the moat. 
 Wide open flew the door. Torches flamed high 
 in air. Between the lintels of the low massive 
 gateway, with his long gray hair and mustachios 
 blown about by the wind, stood Hugues Brey- 
 onne, tall, broad-shouldered, erect, the seneschal 
 of Agincourt. Behind him were a dozen or 
 more men-at-arms, their rugged faces and stout 
 leathern jerkins lighted by the blazing resinous 
 flambeaux held aloft in their strong knotted 
 hands. 
 
 "Welcome, le demoiselle de Wotton. Thrice
 
 SIMON DELIVERS UP His TRUST 133 
 
 welcome to Agincourt!" exclaimed the stout 
 Hugh in a hearty tone as Spitfire, with Lady 
 Beatrice, crossed to where he was standing. 
 "Your good grandmere has had a man on the 
 watch-tower since yesterday at sunset to see if 
 in the distance he could mark your approach. 
 Ah, is that you, my Lord, le Comte d Epernon ! 
 Why did you not hail Hugh Breyonne? Had 
 he but heard your voice, perchance this fair 
 Mademoiselle need not have tarried so long. 
 Where is the Anglais who summoned us so cour 
 teously? Who is he, my lord?" 
 
 "Not so fast," exclaimed Simon angrily. "It s 
 not the Comte d Epernon who acts as escort for 
 Lady Beatrice of Wotton, but Simon Lapland, 
 that s known her since first she saw the light. 
 In spite of his demerits, her father, the Earl of 
 Wotton, thought him as well able as himself to 
 protect her till she could be placed with her 
 grand-dame, the Duchess de Berry. But where 
 shall I take my young lady? She s not used to 
 waiting midst a score of gaping men!" 
 
 "Here, you, Arnot, take charge of these 
 men!" cried Hugh, as he turned to the captain 
 of the men-at-arms standing near him, "while 
 I show Mademoiselle de Wotton and le Comte 
 d Epernon to the great reception hall where 
 await Madame and the Duchess." 
 
 "Not so fast, not so fast!" cried Simon, more 
 fiercely than before. "Do you think I will thus 
 give up my charge? Lead on, if you will, but 
 I follow to deliver the message which I bear
 
 134 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 from the Earl of Wotton to the Duchess de 
 Berry." 
 
 Lady Beatrice had been greatly diverted by 
 this little by-play between the old henchman and 
 the seneschal of Agincourt, but now she felt that 
 it had gone far enough. 
 
 "That is right, good Simon," she said very 
 sweetly. "You come with me. I am sure our 
 good friend Here, Sir Hugh Breyonne, will not 
 only lead the way to the great hall of which he 
 speaks, but will also see to it that Jock, one of 
 my men who has been sorely injured in pro 
 tecting me, has a comfortable bed and the best 
 of attendance. He is a brave lad, deserving 
 every care. Come, Bess ! We are ready, Sir 
 Hugues!" 
 
 Before the Count could assist her Lady 
 Beatrice had sprung from the saddle, while the 
 old Frenchman, much mollified, said with a 
 smile in his eyes and a twitching of his brave 
 mustachios, as he caught the expression on 
 Count d Epernon s face : 
 
 "This way, Mademoiselle de Wotton : this 
 way, my lady!" 
 
 With native politeness he conducted the party 
 into a great baronial hall with a carpeted dais 
 at its head. The wind which the opening of 
 the door permitted to enter freely, sent many 
 a war banner waving, while more than one tat 
 tered trophy and long pennant, hanging from 
 wall and ceiling, seemed to Lady Beatrice to 
 bid her welcome as she advanced down the 
 great hall. On the raised platform or dais
 
 SIMON DELIVERS UP His TRUST 135 
 
 stood a noble-looking woman of about fifty, the 
 Lady of Agincourt, tall, stately, imposing. In 
 a high-backed chair upholstered in dark red 
 velvet, sat the Duchess de Berry. She was of 
 medium height, thin and somewhat bent. Her 
 long nervous hands rested lightly upon the gold 
 head of her ebony stick. She demanded rever 
 ence from all ! Her silvery white hair, piled 
 high, was bound with a tiara of flashing jewels. 
 Her broad, low brow, her violet eyes, keen, 
 penetrating, observant; her regular features and 
 complexion of ivory, awoke in Lady Beatrice a 
 swift feeling of pleasure mingled with awe and 
 admiration. 
 
 Rising to her feet, her black velvet robe fall 
 ing majestically about her, the Duchess said 
 with impressive dignity: 
 
 "This, Countess of Agincourt, is my grand 
 daughter, Lady Beatrice of Wotton!" 
 
 With a kindly smile the lady of the castle 
 extended her hand, which our young traveller, 
 in true English fashion, shook heartily. Then, 
 dropping on one knee before her grand-dame 
 and pressing her warm lips to the beautiful hand 
 on which shone her birth stone, a ruby of great 
 price, she said ingenuously: 
 
 "I am so glad to get here, grand-mere, and I 
 trust you are glad to see me !" 
 
 The duchess s eyes showed a suspicious mois 
 ture, as she replied, a smile bringing a touch of 
 youth to her face : 
 
 "Yes, my child. You are welcome for your 
 mother s sake as well as for your own."
 
 136 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 As the duchess once more sat back in her 
 chair Lady Beatrice, turning to old Simon, said 
 with a reassuring smile : 
 
 "This, grandmere, is Simon Lapland, a trusty 
 retainer and friend of the House of Wotton. 
 Under his protection I have come from the 
 mouth of the Somme as well cared for as though 
 my father had been with me. He bears a packet 
 and a message which he would fain give you 
 himself." 
 
 With glistening eyes and a pleased expression 
 upon his rugged face Simon, standing stiff and 
 straight, as though on dress parade, had been 
 keenly watching his young mistress. But when 
 the Duchess de Berry turned her piercing glance 
 upon him he felt all strength leave his knees. 
 His lips grew dry, his mouth parched, and for a 
 brief moment no fitting words would come with 
 which to acknowledge his young lady s introduc 
 tion. 
 
 Then, like a captain who faces great danger, 
 he rallied his courage, and stepping forward, 
 with humble obeisance as though to a queen, he 
 said with a look as direct and scrutinizing as 
 her own: 
 
 "It s a pleasure, Madame, for a humble re 
 tainer like me to bring in safety my young Lady 
 de Wotton to the Castle of Agincourt. The 
 Earl, her father, bade me tender you his com 
 pliments and kindest wishes for your health and 
 happiness, saying that, when the time came for 
 him to turn back to England he would come for 
 his daughter. Till then, he should feel safer to
 
 SIMON DELIVERS UP His TRUST 137 
 
 know she was under your protection. This is 
 the packet, Madame la Duchesse, which he bade 
 me place in your own hand. It contains rare 
 family jewels which his late wife, the Countess 
 of Wotton, brought with her wedding dower. 
 Through these troublous times he deemed they 
 would be safer with you. Here also is a letter 
 which he said would explain more fully about 
 my young lady. Now, by your leave, Duchess 
 de Berry, I ll deliver up my trust."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE GOLDEN MESHES OF LOVE 
 
 "I had a thing to say, 
 But I will fit it with some better time." 
 King John, 
 
 It was the middle of October. Lady Beatrice, 
 who had become accustomed to the ways of her 
 grand-dame, found her both velvet and steel. 
 The Countess of Agincourt, in the weeks that 
 had passed, experienced a new pleasure in 
 existence. She was a childless woman with a 
 great heart, and already she had learned to 
 love the blithe English maiden whom she called 
 her "Anglais fleur-de-lis." 
 
 The Comte d Epernon, more a prisoner than 
 ever through the tightening of his bonds by 
 the golden meshes of love, still lingered as an 
 honored guest at Agincourt, waiting the old 
 henchman s behest. Simon s heart-strings had 
 felt many a strong pull during the long dreary 
 hours that he had watched by the bedside of 
 his son, Jock, who, delirious, wasted with fever, 
 suffering from exposure, fatigue and his wounds, 
 battled for his life. These trying hours had 
 brought Bess s good heart to the fore. To-day, 
 as Jock for the first time was assisted by his 
 father and Hugh Breyonne into a sheltered 
 nook where the sun lay with a warm benedic 
 tion, she fluttered about him on the broad battle- 
 138
 
 THE GOLDEN MESHES OF LOVE 139 
 
 ment like a bright plumaged bird ready to fight 
 for its young. To Jock the air, cool, restoring, 
 invigorating, gave promise of renewed health, 
 while the sun gleaming on the River Ternoise 
 set him to thinking of a stream near the old 
 farm at Wotton where he played as a boy. 
 
 Hugh Breyonne pointed out to him in the dis 
 tance, Hesdin, while Simon said with a covert 
 smile : 
 
 "Cressy lies just beyond I" 
 
 But the old seneschal was not listening; at 
 least, he pretended not to be. 
 
 "You must not sit here too long, Jock," said 
 Bess gently, as she drew a great cape around his 
 shoulders, "lest you get over tired. But here 
 comes my young lady, as bonny as though we 
 were in England instead of walled up here. Do 
 you mark, Jock, the Count? Watch his eyes, 
 his smile! One can easily see the state of his 
 mind. As to our young mistress, she s not like 
 lasses you know. Sometimes I think she s as 
 deep in love with the Count as he with her; 
 then, beshrew me, if I do not believe that I have 
 mistaken for love what she calls friendship : 
 yet, were I in her place, I should have surren 
 dered long afore this! It s plain to see he has 
 no eyes for any one but her. Don t you think 
 so, Jock?" 
 
 "You coddle me, lass, as though I were a 
 sick granny, stead of a stout yeoman. As to 
 our young mistress, she reminds me of that tall 
 marble image at Wotton which the Earl did 
 tell me was Aphrodite, or some such heathenish
 
 140 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 name. I am glad she does not turn to the 
 Frenchman, though he be a man after my own 
 liking were he but English. Yet thou knowest 
 more about love, Bess, than I. There s but one 
 lass that to me ever seemed worth the loving, 
 and she s uncertain as April weather ! Can you 
 guess who it be?" 
 
 "Not I, Jock. When you were sick, you did 
 talk of more lasses than one." Bess gave him 
 a mischievous smile, then continued: "But I 
 could not catch the name of any other but me ! 
 Do you not think I make a proper nurse?" 
 
 Simon, who had strolled along the wall with 
 Hugh Breyonne, now returned. With a light 
 in his eyes that she had never seen before when 
 directed toward her, he said heartily, answering 
 the question for Jock: 
 
 "That you did, my lass! He can thank you 
 for his life, and his young mistress for sparing 
 your service that you might do for him what his 
 rough old father could not!" 
 
 At that moment Lady Beatrice and the Count 
 joined them. In her hand was a glass of wine. 
 
 "This, Jock," she said cheerily, "will keep 
 you from taking cold. I have a piece of good 
 news for you and Simon." 
 
 "News!" they exclaimed. "Whence comes- 
 it?" 
 
 "From Harfleur," replied their young mis 
 tress, with an arch glance at the Count. "It has 
 capitulated to King Henry. Father will be here 
 anon. Is not that worth hearing, Simon ? Does 
 it not put new strength in you, Jock? I will
 
 THE GOLDEN MESHES OF LOVE 141 
 
 read you a part of my letter. You need not 
 go, Comte d Epernon. Yes, here it is," as she 
 turned over a page : " This twenty-second day 
 of September after as gallant a fight to keep 
 their town as I did ever see, Sire d Estouteville, 
 a man dauntless in bearing, noble as well, sur 
 rendered the keys to King Henry. When we 
 entered Harfleur, we saw a pitiable sight, 
 stout men, who at least were stout once on a 
 time; women, maidens and children, gaunt 
 with famine, hollow-eyed, grief-stricken, but 
 I will not tear your young heart with further 
 description of their case, nor harrow you with 
 an account of the wounds and deaths from dis 
 ease which had laid many a good Englishman 
 low at the siege of Harfleur, both baron and 
 archer, man-at-arms and foot soldier. I know 
 not, for as yet it has not been determined, how 
 quickly we march. Tonight our good King Hal 
 holds a council. One thing is certain, he will 
 cross Normandy to Calais, neither plundering 
 nor looting, but as a traveler through a peace 
 able country, unless he be stopped on his way. 
 It is then, if such thing happen, he would fight 
 as only King Hal can ! 
 
 " Your father, with Aleck and Edward, came 
 forth from the encounter unscathed. 
 
 " You remember Robert of Derwater, who 
 sailed on the Lively when we crossed from 
 Southampton ? " 
 
 "Yes, my lady, yes ! What says he of him?" 
 cried Bess, unable to refrain from questioning, 
 for her mistress at that juncture had dropped
 
 142 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 the letter and was looking off from the scenery 
 as though her thoughts would never return. 
 
 "Oh, did you speak, Bess? What is it? Ah, 
 I see, you feel an interest in Robert of Der- 
 water! Are you in love with him or he with 
 you? But I will spare your blushes and read 
 on, He received a flesh wound in his arm, and 
 a battle-axe came too heavily upon his skull. He 
 has just looked into my tent to say that there 
 is no danger of his head ever being broken, 
 and, by my faith, I think not! The King has 
 taken a great liking to Robert and shows him 
 marked favor. 
 
 But how is Simon? I trust you were not out 
 in the storm. Tell him to abide where he is. 
 On our way I shall stop one night at least at 
 Agincourt. No one knows but what his good 
 arm will be needed before we reach Calais 
 the rest of the letter has interest only for me: 
 but you must hurry and get well, Jock." 
 
 Simon, who had listened intently, now ex 
 claimed: 
 
 "That s so, my lady. The quicker the better." 
 
 He gave a keen glance at Bess at that point 
 of the letter which referred to Robert of Der- 
 water, beneath which she lowered her eyes, 
 while a dark flush stole up to her hair. He had 
 thought of leaving them alone and having a talk 
 with Sir Hugh, but now changed his mind and 
 sat down on the stone bench in the angle of the 
 wall, much to Jock s disappointment. Lady 
 Beatrice, having accomplished what she had 
 set out to do, cried gaily:
 
 THE GOLDEN MESHES OF LOVE 143 
 
 "Bonne fortune!" and, with a graceful wave 
 of her hand, turned, walking beside the Count 
 to where the southwest wall permitted a wider 
 view of the valley. 
 
 "Ah, me !" she exclaimed naively, looking 
 up from beneath her long lashes at the Count, 
 whose bright eyes held a quizzical smile; "it s 
 such hard work to keep folks in order. Now 
 there s Bess, as kind-hearted a lass as one might 
 wish to see in a long day s journey; yet she is 
 never contented unless making some one love 
 her, or pretending that she loves him. I know, 
 Comte d Epernon, you will agree with me that 
 friendshsip is much better than love ! The little 
 blind god is too capricious, too selfish, or too 
 self-denying just as the fever takes him. I 
 told Bess when we were traveling hither that 
 it was wrong to play with the heart of a good 
 man like Jock Lapland or Robert of Derwater ! 
 Do you not think I am right?" 
 
 "Most assuredly, mademoiselle, most assur 
 edly. But mayhap she s like yourself, one who 
 calls forth love unconsciously. You must be 
 aware of that " 
 
 "Oh!" suddenly exclaimed Lady Beatrice, 
 "see this red spot on my arm! Has something 
 bitten me? Can it be a spider?" 
 
 The Count, as he pretended to closely ex 
 amine the cool, rounded white arm, felt a thrill 
 which intensified the longer he retained it. But 
 Lady Beatrice had good reason to think he was 
 taking his time in determining whether the pinch 
 she had given herself was the bite of a spider.
 
 144 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 When he gently released her arm he said quite 
 soberly : 
 
 "You need not feel alarmed, Lady Beatrice. 
 If I mistake not, the sting and the redness will 
 soon disappear. But to continue what I was 
 saying " 
 
 "Excuse me," cried Lady Beatrice hastily. 
 "Do you not see grandmere s handkerchief 
 waving from her window? She needs me, so 
 I must postpone listening to what you were 
 about to tell me until another time a more 
 favorable opportunity. Bon jour, le Count 
 d Epernonf" 
 
 With a mocking courtesy and a merry back 
 ward glance over her shoulder, she cried, as she 
 hastened down the steps : 
 
 "Bon jour, mon ami!" 
 
 "It is thus," soliloquized the Count, "on one 
 pretext or another, she ever eludes me. Yet my 
 time will come. Mayhap it were better for me 
 to see the Earl. Still, when she is so adorable, 
 so bewitching, tantalizing me with her beauty 
 and dainty caprice, what wonder I lose my head 
 and forget? But I know the Duchess wishes 
 me well, and the Countess also : yes, even saucy 
 Bess, herself, who is past mistress in the game 
 of love!"
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 A PERILOUS JOURNEY UNDERTAKEN 
 
 "There are reasons and causes for it." 
 The Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 On the afternoon on which Madame Moreau 
 arrived at Cleres, her friend, the Countess 
 Estelle, was freer than usual from the intense 
 pain which made her young life at times almost 
 unbearable. 
 
 The two school friends, for both had been 
 educated at the same convent, passed the re 
 mainder of the afternoon in confidential con 
 versation. Among other things they spoke of 
 the disturbed condition of that part of Nor 
 mandy, due to the marshalling of troops and the 
 prospect of battle. 
 
 The sun was setting, yet no word had come 
 from Alphonse De Witte. Madame Moreau 
 grew restless. 
 
 "Do you not think, Irene," asked her friend, 
 tapping nervously with slim fingers the low 
 table beside her, "that after all you would do 
 better to go to Paris, even though it be a Sodom 
 and Gomorrah, where butchers and bakers, 
 yes, the very canaille dare to set their will 
 against that of the King, if Burgundy lifts a 
 finger!" 
 
 145
 
 146 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Madame Moreau had discarded her present 
 dress and effaced the lines so carefully traced. 
 Now, in a soft amber silk, she sat looking forth 
 at the roseate tint made by the setting sun. The 
 park, the gardens, the southwest wall, were a 
 blaze of color. Even the fountain, a marble 
 Cupid and Psyche, blushed and glowed as 
 though warmed into life. 
 
 "I am not sure, Estelle, but you are right. 
 Had you suffered as I for almost a year in that 
 very same city, you, too, would dread to return 
 even for a day!" Then, in a half dreamy tone, 
 "Still he is not there." 
 
 Rousing herself, she continued : 
 
 "After all, your suggestion is good. A long 
 talk with the kind Juvenal des Ursins and a visit 
 to Rue de Chaillot before going to Chateau de 
 Verignon " 
 
 "But Irene, you surely will not risk yourself 
 in your feudal Castle near the Alps?" 
 
 "Why not, Estelle? The farther I am from 
 Paris the better. I am like the Wandering Jew. 
 Were the chateaux as safe, I would rather live 
 at Vars or Maine. The first is much warmer 
 in winter than that of de Verignon; the other 
 more pleasant by far, from old association. But 
 I shall know, when I see my old friend, what is 
 best for me to do. Now I am like a scallop- 
 shell adrift on a tumultuous ocean, a sea of un 
 certainty; first borne high to the top of a moun 
 tainous wave by the hope of deliverance, then 
 down, down, into its very depths the yawning 
 trough of depression. It would be happiness
 
 A PERILOUS JOURNEY UNDERTAKEN 147 
 
 could I but stay here with you, dearest Estelle. 
 Yet that cannot be ! I had thought of putting 
 myself under the protection of the Duchess de 
 Berry. Were she at Bruges, I might have done 
 so." 
 
 "Oh, if you could only remain with me, Irene, 
 what a comfort you would be. Saint Etienne 
 scarce ever comes now, and I am so lonely. Do 
 you think it safe? I live so retired, then I am 
 so far removed from the main road to Calais!" 
 
 "Yes, Estelle. Yet the Dauphin might ride 
 this way from Paris. Is he not now at Rouen?" 
 
 "No, Irene, the Court is still at Vernon, 
 though any day it may change." 
 
 The shadows lengthened. The great clock 
 in the turret struck eight, then the half hour. 
 Still Alphonse De Witte did not come. 
 
 "Annette!" cried Madame Moreau, "An 
 nette!" 
 
 "Yes, my lady," answered the girl as she 
 drew back the heavy tapestry which separated a 
 small anteroom from that in which her mistress 
 was sitting with her friend. 
 
 "Come hither. I wish you to meet Jean at 
 the gate when the clock strikes nine. Bring him 
 up the stone stairway to the little room which 
 you have just left. I will see him there. Make 
 no talk with Jacques or his good dame it is 
 said that gate-keepers are ever curious." 
 
 "If your maid, Irene, can tear herself away 
 from Babette without telling her all she knows, 
 she will do well!" laughed the Countess.
 
 148 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Again with solemn stroke, a knell to the hope 
 of Madame Moreau, the clock rang out the 
 hour of nine. All expectation of seeing Alphonse 
 De Witte had left her. Hearing Annette and 
 Jean in the anteroom she rose, saying to her 
 friend: 
 
 "I must set forth, Estelle, at dawn. Is there 
 no way by which I can leave the park without 
 Jacques knowledge?" 
 
 "Irene, have you forgotten that little gate at 
 the end of the serpentine walk, hidden by the 
 trees? Saint Etienne keeps the key excepting 
 when he is away for a length of time, as now. 
 See, it is hanging yonder! You can leave it in 
 the lock and later I will send Cossette for it. 
 She is discreet." 
 
 One would have scarcely recognized in Jean, 
 the peasant who, so short a time before had 
 driven the coverted cart with its span of tired 
 horses down the main street of Cleres. He was 
 evidently more at home in his forester s suit of 
 green. His eyes were lighted with unconscious 
 admiration as he listened respectfully to his 
 young mistress s orders. 
 
 "You are punctual as usual," said Madame 
 Moreau pleasantly, when the portiere had 
 dropped behind her. "I wish you to wait for 
 me at dawn on the road to Les Andelys, where 
 you will see set close together in as many rows, 
 both within and without the park wall, five 
 poplars. Purchase fresh horses and see to it 
 that there is a good supply of wine and food. 
 Unless there be reason against it, we will take
 
 A PERILOUS JOURNEY UNDERTAKEN 149 
 
 the forest road. I have changed my mind as to 
 my route but shall, in a measure, be governed by 
 what you learn at Madame Loudre s. Be 
 cautious. Maybe it were as well to say naught 
 to Baptiste." 
 
 "Madame can depend on my carrying out her 
 wishes faithfully!" replied Jean earnestly. 
 
 When he drew up at the five poplars the sky 
 was of that neutral tint which precedes the 
 dawn. The horses, two strong grays, had 
 scarcely come to a stand when he heard 
 Madame Moreau, in a low tone call, "Jean!" 
 He knew by the sound that she was still within 
 the park. Making his way through a sort of 
 maze formed by the trees, he found himself 
 facing a high wall thickly set at the top with 
 strong iron points. In the gloom he could see 
 only the close network of vine and caught him 
 self wondering how his mistress expected to 
 join him. 
 
 A sharp rasping noise as that of a large key 
 grating in a lock a muffled exclamation, and at 
 last, to his astonishment, a piece of the wall 
 which a few moments before had seemed as 
 solid and impregnable as any about Paris, began 
 moving toward him. Then he heard his mis 
 tress say: 
 
 "The gate is unlocked but Annette and I 
 have not the strength to push it open wide 
 enough to pass through." 
 
 Jean saw at once that the close network of 
 vines was the real obstruction. Hurrying to the 
 cart he quickly returned with an axe. A few
 
 150 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 sharp strokes, a sudden tug, and an aperture 
 was made sufficiently wide for his mistress and 
 Annette. 
 
 "Do you think we shall have a pleasant day, 
 Jean?" asked Madame Moreau, anxiously 
 scanning the sky. 
 
 "It does not look it now, my lady." 
 
 "Sh ! Sh ! Remember, Jean, I am Sister 
 Cecilia!" 
 
 "Yes, my I will try to remember. Did you 
 not speak, Madame Moreau, of taking the 
 forest road? I heard it said late last night at 
 the inn that the heavy rain had swollen the 
 Andelle till the upper ford is so deep that cer 
 tain travelers, who passed through yesterday, 
 swam their horses with difficulty to the other 
 side. If this be so, Madame, were it not better 
 to cross lower down by the bridge ?" 
 
 "That is the one thing, Jean, which I wish 
 to avoid. Is there not another ford?" 
 
 "Yes, Madame," replied Jean, knitting his 
 brows, "but that is over deep, too. We will 
 find a way if you think it best to take the wood 
 road." 
 
 It was with a feeling of relief that Madame 
 Moreau saw the sun at last shine forth, giving 
 promise of a pleasant day. She had decided to 
 go through the forest, for the reports that Jean 
 brought her of marching troops and small bands 
 of armed men, made her realize to the full the 
 necessity of great precaution. 
 
 She had transformed Annette into a middle- 
 aged woman with a stiff Normandy cap and had
 
 A PERILOUS JOURNEY UNDERTAKEN 151 
 
 added to her girth till she looked almost as 
 large as her mother, good Rosette. When 
 Madame Moreau bade her friend good-bye that 
 morning by candle-light, Estelle exclaimed 
 "Irene, you are a born artist! 
 
 Instead of her peasant costume she was 
 dressed as a Grey Sister. A broad white band 
 was bound low on her forehead while another, 
 brought well under her chin, was fastened be 
 neath the grey hood of her long loose gown. 
 Around her neck was a rosary of carved beads; 
 hanging from it was a cross, large enough, as 
 Estelle laughingly said, to form a support in 
 case the cart should break down. Her voice 
 was changed by means of two smooth pebbles 
 placed beneath her tongue, that the Countess 
 declared there would be no danger from either 
 Armagnac or Burgundian. But when her friend 
 saw Annette, her laughter knew no bounds. Oh 
 entering the room Madame Moreau had found 
 it difficult to restrain her tears but it was not 
 long before she, too, was laughing as heartily 
 as the volatile countess. 
 
 At noon, while resting in the heart of the 
 forest, Jean explained to his mistress with much 
 satisfaction: 
 
 "These horses are much faster than the 
 others. Already we have come two-thirds of 
 the way!" 
 
 "I am glad," replied Madame Morean. "I 
 had feared that night might be upon us before 
 we arrived at the ford."
 
 152 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 She had scarcely spoken when, from the dis 
 tance, came the shrill notes of a bugle. Baptiste 
 looked frightened. Jean hastened to fasten the 
 horses into the cart, while Madame Moreau 
 cautioned Annette to avoid speaking. In a few 
 moments they were again in motion. Jean, who 
 had hastily whipped up the horses, looked to 
 the right and left, hoping to find a cross-cut by 
 which they might avoid the oncoming party. In 
 the meantime, Madame Moreau began to count 
 her beads industriously. 
 
 Gaily the horn sounded and merrily thirty- 
 lusty voices trolled the refrain : 
 
 "Five le Rot, vive le Roi; 
 Five la Compagnie!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN ORDEAL PASSED AND PARIS REACHED 
 
 "If you were men, as men you are in show, 
 You would not use a gentle lady so." 
 
 A Midsummer Night s Dream. 
 
 Beneath the shade of the arching trees, two 
 abreast, rode cap-a-pie at least thirty men-at- 
 arms, tanned, sunburned and jolly. Strapped to 
 their backs were short bows and arrows. Each 
 man wore a stout blade with two pistols at his 
 belt. Their mouths were stretched widely, as 
 they roared in chorus : 
 
 "Five le Rot, vive le Rot; 
 Five la Compagnie!" 
 
 Their leader, a young Frenchman bearing the 
 indelible marks of dissipation, was even more 
 merry, if that were possible, than his troop. 
 Madame Moreau, catching sight of him as he 
 crossed an open space where the sunlight 
 brought into clear relief every feature, experi 
 enced a feeling of fear. She knew the man and 
 that to her his presence meant a menace, a 
 danger. It was not her nature to succumb, but 
 to meet the ills of life courageously. Her hands 
 trembled slightly as she counted her beads in a 
 half suppressed whisper, and a prayer went up 
 for strength with which to face the coming 
 ordeal. 
 
 153
 
 154 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 There was little time to decide upon any 
 plan of action for, as soon as the leader descried 
 the cart and its inmates, his spurs had bit deep 
 into the noble animal he bestrode. Drawing 
 rein, he called out imperiously: 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 Jean, as well as his troop, obeyed. 
 
 "Who rides here so fast?" he asked, keenly 
 scrutinizing the grey-habited Sister. "Are you 
 praying for me? Morbleu! it might be well. 
 But why bandage your face so none can see it? 
 One is not able to tell whether you are fair as 
 the morn or ugly as hell!" 
 
 Jean s ire rose, but he knew better than to 
 speak. 
 
 Madame Moreau, with eyes lowered, appar 
 ently paid no more heed to his words than as 
 though they had been the buzzing of a fly near 
 her ear. Bead after bead slipped through her 
 fingers as she mumbled aves and paternosters, 
 till the stranger, who still eyed her intently, 
 exclaimed at last with irritation: 
 
 "Sacre bleu! can you not leave the bon Dieu 
 to care for himself till you answer a civil ques 
 tion? If you cannot find your voice, I will have 
 you stripped and make you dance briskly to the 
 piping of my men. Mon Dieu! we will tickle 
 the ribs of these two varlets with the points of 
 our blades, while that mountain of jelly over 
 yonder will suit to perfection Pierre Garreau!" 
 
 At this sally the men laughed uproariously, 
 and one of the troopers, with a villainous oath, 
 exclaimed :
 
 AN ORDEAL PASSED AND PARIS REACHED 155 
 
 "Take her yourself, my lord; or mayhap you 
 would rather have la belle Irene, if you could 
 find her I For my part, I am well suited with 
 the fair Josephine whom I have left at Vernon." 
 
 "Sacre nom de Dieuf" cried the Count Saint 
 Etienne de Cleres angrily. "Be not so ready 
 with your tongue, or some day I will slit it. 
 Here, Jean Vourvere, come hither ! Betwixt 
 you and me, if I mistake not, we ll not be long 
 learning whether this Sister of the grey garb 
 is lean or stout, young or old!" 
 
 Seeing that he was determined to make her 
 speak, Madame Moreau, still fingering her 
 beads, her hands well covered by her loose cape- 
 like sleeves, at last addressed him in the quaver 
 ing tones of age : 
 
 "Monsieur, do you love your mother? Did 
 she not teach you to reverence age and the 
 church?" 
 
 She well knew that this man, her friend s 
 husband, was thoroughly dissolute : that noth 
 ing would stay his purpose unless it were a 
 thought of this parent whom, while under the 
 influence of too much wine, he had one day 
 struck to the floor, a blow which had caused her 
 death. This mother alone possessed the power 
 to check his fits of anger, or call forth even the 
 semblance of love. With a savage oath and a 
 scowl which made vertical furrows between his 
 eyes, he drew back his horse, dashing the rowels 
 of his spurs cruelly into it, and shouted fiercely 
 to his men :
 
 156 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Mon Dieuf what are you all staring at? 
 Come on, you lazy dogs and shut those vile 
 traps of yours!" 
 
 Without another glance at the cart, he rode 
 madly past. His men, grumbling beneath their 
 breath, following, while glances both of fear 
 and hate were cast at the grey-hooded Sister 
 who was holding up her cross as though to warn 
 them from their headlong career. Jean whipped 
 up his horses, being anxious to widen the dis 
 tance between them in as short a space of time 
 as possible. 
 
 Madame Moreau, fully realizing her narrow 
 escape, breathed more freely when their in 
 creased pace left the troop far behind. Her 
 heart went out with even deeper sympathy to 
 the friend of her girlhood, at the thought of 
 what her life must be with this man for a hus 
 band. She had never explained why, on her 
 first visit to this dearest of friends, she had left 
 in such haste the Chateau de Cleres. It would 
 but add, she well knew, to the poignant sorrow 
 which had already wrecked the happiness of one 
 of the sunniest of natures. 
 
 On they rode, till in the distance like a band 
 of bluish silver, the River Andelle, glistening in 
 the rays of the setting sun, came into sight. 
 They were on a gentle elevation and the view 
 point which they had of its swollen waters made 
 Jean s question as to whether they would be 
 able to ford it, awake an answering doubt in 
 the mind of his mistress. On reaching its banks, 
 he drew up the horses and jumping down from
 
 AN ORDEAL PASSED AND PARIS REACHED 157 
 
 the cart, looked intently for the crossing. At 
 last on finding it, his heart misgave him at its 
 depth. He realized that as night was approach 
 ing there was no time to be lost. Returning to 
 his mistress he said in a tone which ill concealed 
 his anxiety: 
 
 "The water is very deep, Madame Moreau. 
 Shall I not take one of the horses and try the 
 crossing to see whether or no it is safe?" 
 
 "Do what you think best, Jean," replied his 
 mistress. "Where you go I shall not fear to 
 follow. But we must hasten if we would have 
 the sun to light our way." 
 
 Jean s horse lost its footing when near the 
 middle of the ford, but quickly regained it. 
 The water was then above the stirrup, farther 
 on it became more shallow, and Jean regretted 
 that his mistress had not tried the venture with 
 him. Turning back, he rejoined Madame 
 Moreau. Arranging his coat on the other horse 
 for a pillion, she was borne in safety to the 
 opposite shore. 
 
 The transportation of Annette and the cart 
 was from necessity slow; yet in less than an 
 hour from the time of their arrival at the river 
 they, with their belongings, were safely landed 
 on the opposite bank. Weary and somewhat 
 dispirited, Madame Moreau took shelter in a 
 small hamlet near by, whose most pretentious 
 dwelling belonged to the good priest, Pere 
 Bosque. She had retained her disguise. The 
 next morning she left the good father and his 
 housekeeper, Marjorie, who still believed her to
 
 158 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 be Sister Cecilia from the Convent of Notre 
 Dame, at Rouen. 
 
 For days they journeyed onward keeping 
 clear of the friends whom she had intended to 
 visit, and the Court party at Vernon. In bear 
 ing away from the river and Petit Andely, she 
 noted with admiration on a neighboring hill, 
 high towering, the great castle of Gaillard. Its 
 seventeen towers and triple links of outworks 
 and its massive gateway, a monument to the 
 genius of its designer, were brought into bold 
 relief by the brilliant rays of the sun. This 
 wonderful Norman castle was erected in 1197 
 by Richard Coeur-de-Lion, to protect Nor 
 mandy against the inroads of the French mon- 
 archs and command the navigation of the Seine. 
 Her mind, which had been dwelling upon the 
 Earl of Wotton, naturally wondered whether 
 he had seen this stronghold. She tried to 
 imagine how he must have felt when remember 
 ing that Philip Augustus, in 1204, after a siege 
 of five months, had, in spite of its eight feet 
 thickness of wall, wrested it from the English. 
 A shiver went through her when, before her 
 mental vision, arose Queen Margaret of Bur 
 gundy, wife of Louis X. In fancy she saw her 
 in one of the towers where, it was said, she was 
 murdered in 1314. As fortress and battlements 
 were lost to sight after entering the forest of 
 Vernon, her thoughts left the historical Castle 
 and the Earl, to return to the object of her 
 journey. The next point of interest to attract 
 her attention was the high tower at Vernon,
 
 AN ORDEAL PASSED AND PARIS REACHED 159 
 
 built by Henry the First of England, in 1123. 
 She knew that this would prove a landmark by 
 which to avoid riding too near the town, and 
 would also prevent their losing their way as they 
 pushed onward in the winding wood roads. On 
 the evening of the eighth day after leaving 
 Cleres, she entered Paris by the Porte Saint 
 Denis, and drove in the darkness to the rear of 
 Rue de Chaillot. Here, to the surprise of 
 Bertram, the old major-domo, who had come 
 to the back door for a breath of air, she 
 accosted him, still in her Grey Sister s dress. 
 
 At first the old man was too amazed to speak; 
 then, realizing that it was his young mistress, 
 whom he had not seen for over a year, he 
 hastened forw r ard, exclaiming joyfully : 
 
 "Who would have thought it!" 
 
 "Sh! Sh! Bertram," said Madame Mo- 
 reau in a warning whisper. u My presence here 
 must not become known. I will go by the back 
 stairway to my own room, where you can serve 
 me. In the meantime, see to it that Jean and 
 Baptiste are well cared for. I do not wish them 
 to meet any one but you. It is essential to me 
 that no whisper of our stay at the Chateau 
 should get abroad!"
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 "Much danger I do undergo for thee." 
 
 King John. 
 
 It was with a sigh of relief that Madame 
 Moreau found herself again in the pretty room 
 which had been her mother s and, for a few 
 short months, hers. Its furnishings were more 
 modern than in other parts of the Chateau, and 
 she knew that more than one of its tasteful 
 adornments was due to her father s love for 
 that mother whom she scarcely remembered. 
 
 Annette, as she entered the small room ad 
 joining, that was to be hers during their stay, 
 exclaimed breathlessly : 
 
 "Oh, it s too beautiful for such as me !" 
 
 This was her first visit to Paris. From a tall 
 wardrobe, standing in the corner, she took down 
 dainty garments of linen and silk. When Bert 
 ram brought in the supper on a large silver 
 tray, Madame Moreau, who had laid aside the 
 disguise which had done such good service, 
 looked what she was, a beautiful woman, one 
 that had been tried in the furnace of affliction 
 and come forth pure gold. 
 
 She arose early the next morning, calling 
 Bertram to her, and bade him ascertain whether 
 Juvenal des Ursins were in Paris. She warned 
 160
 
 A COWARD S THREAT 161 
 
 him to use every precaution and place her letter 
 in no other hands than his own. Then she took 
 up the burden of inaction, of waiting, of knowl 
 edge deferred, which is often harder to bear 
 than the realization of that which we fear. One 
 day followed another till her heart grew sore. 
 Weeks followed weeks, and it was not until she 
 had almost given up hope that the advocate- 
 general returned to his home. She had not 
 dared to go out until late in the evening, and 
 then only for a short walk in the garden when 
 all but good Bertram and Jean were abed. 
 During these days of suspense, she grew pale 
 and thin, doubtful how to act, full of vain 
 forebodings lest her kind friend should not 
 come in time. But on the twenty-first day of 
 October, as she was preparing for her usual 
 lonely walk, Jean came to her door, saying in a 
 low delighted whisper : 
 
 "At last, my mistress, at last! Bertram bade 
 me tell you that within the hour, the advocate, 
 Juvenal des Ursins, will be with you I" 
 
 For a moment the certainty of his nearness 
 seemed to break the attenuated thread of her 
 courage. Tears, rarely seen in her eyes through 
 pity for herself, broke their bonds, and great 
 pearly drops hung on her lashes. They were 
 quickly wiped away as she heard approaching 
 footsteps which she thought must be those of 
 the friend whom she had come so far to see, 
 and for whom she had waited so patiently. It 
 was her hand that opened the door: her glad 
 voice that exclaimed joyously:
 
 162 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Welcome, dearest friend, welcome!" 
 
 Who shall portray her horror, her terror, 
 when, instead of her kind adviser, she saw one 
 of the men who had been so long pursuing 
 her, no less a person than Monsieur Moreau ! 
 
 A sardonic smile curled the corners of his 
 mouth; his eyes gleamed with an unholy pleasure 
 as he closed the door and pushed back the bolt. 
 There they stood facing each other. The 
 pallor, which had stolen the color from her 
 cheeks when first she caught a glimpse of his 
 face, still held possession. Her eyes expressed 
 nothing but a fearless defiance, as they looked 
 into his. Her trailing robe of deep crimson silk 
 well became her, as did the string of priceless 
 opals and diamonds that encircled her smooth 
 round throat. Her head was held high. For a 
 brief moment the man standing before her, 
 quailed at her glance. But he was not one to 
 remain long silent when close at hand was the 
 woman he had been seeking for months. So he 
 said in tones clear and exultant: 
 
 "Fairest Irene, I have found you at last! Did 
 you think that you could come back to this good 
 city of Paris and remain here for weeks with 
 out it being known to me? My spies knew the 
 very night of your arrival, yet were not sure it 
 was you. You played so well the Grey Sister ! 
 But one evening, mayhap you remember it, 
 when Bertram stood near at the fountain, you 
 did chide him for calling you by name. Before 
 the morning a swift horse was bearing to your
 
 A COWARD S THREAT 163 
 
 lawful husband the tidings that you, the fairest 
 of the fair, were here I" 
 
 Stepping toward her he attempted, in spite 
 of her scornful bearing, to put his arm around 
 her waist, but she waved him back with an 
 imperious gesture. His arm dropped to his 
 side, while in his eyes and over his face came 
 an expression so cruel, so malignant, that even 
 her stout heart felt for an instant a sickening 
 dread. 
 
 "Sucre nom de Dieu!" he hissed between 
 clenched teeth. "Do you think, Madame 
 Moreau, that you can beard me? You have 
 been a married maid too long! It is high time 
 that I assert a husband s privilege." 
 
 "A husband!" repeated Madame Moreau 
 scornfully. "Never again speak of your odious 
 self as husband to me !" 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Not so fast, Madame Dis 
 dainful ! Sacre bleu! neither of your lovers, 
 the Dauphin nor Charles d Orleans are in 
 Paris. You have given me the slip for the first 
 and last time, for by fair means or foul, with 
 or without your consent, you shall be mine!" 
 
 "Only cowards threaten women," replied 
 Madame Moreau with superb contempt. "And 
 now, sir, that you have said what you came to 
 say, unbolt that door! This is my room, my 
 house, and there are laws even yet in France." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha ! That is exquisite. A tragedy 
 Queen! Laws, are there? Certainly, Madame 
 Moreau, but the law is for the husband. Give 
 me one kiss and your promise that you will not
 
 164 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 leave this Chateau without acquainting me, and 
 I will bid you au revoir for to-night, having an 
 appointment with a woman a perfect she- 
 devil quite as fair as yourself!" 
 
 "Will you open the door and leave me, 
 Monsieur, or do you prefer waiting for my 
 lackeys to thrust you forth?" asked Madame 
 Moreau, her eyes contemptuous, defiant, 
 menacing. 
 
 "Soixante mille diables! Do you think I am 
 ice? If so, you will find yourself mistaken. 
 Look to it that you do not go too far with your 
 sneers. Fentre de Christ! If I were not already 
 late, I would stay and teach you a lesson even 
 now, that you would not forget. Do not think 
 you can escape me, every door and window 
 has two keen eyes watching them. No one can 
 enter or go forth without my knowledge. Keep 
 your sweet words and loving caresses for your 
 husband till the morrow. Then, as the bon 
 Dieu liveth, then you shall find who is 
 master!" 
 
 With a glance which seemed to scorch her 
 from head to foot; so loathsome, so lustful, so 
 horrible was its expression, he made a mocking 
 bow, slid back the bolt and was gone. 
 
 Faint, trembling and exhausted now that 
 need for courage was past, Madame Moreau 
 sank into a great armchair upholstered in amber 
 velvet. Hours, ages, seemed to have passed 
 since Jean had left the door, after telling her of 
 the expected arrival of Juvenal des Ursins. 
 The thought of him brought the quick color to
 
 A Co WARD S THREAT 165 
 
 her cheek an alarmed look to her eyes: not 
 for worlds would she have him court danger 
 for her sake. Sharp rang her bell. Quick came 
 Jean in response to her summons. Words fairly 
 tumbled from her lips as she exclaimed 
 agitatedly : 
 
 "Jean, I am watched ! Hasten and warn my 
 dear old friend not to venture to the Chateau. 
 Tell him that Monsieur Moreau has been here 
 to-night and threatens to return on the morrow. 
 Say that I shall come to him as I did before. 
 And you, Jean, be cautious ! Take with you a 
 lighted link: keep a sharp look out. Let them 
 see you are independent; that will put them off 
 the track. Wear your forester s dress, and be 
 prudent be bold be on your guard! Mon 
 sieur des Ursins will tell you where to meet me 
 when I join you with Annette and Baptiste. 
 Hasten! Before you leave the Chateau send 
 good old Bertram to me."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 "Good expedition, be my friend." 
 
 A Winter s Tale. 
 
 Obeying his mistress order the major-domo 
 came as swiftly as age would permit, anxiety 
 and alarm depicted on his wrinkled face. 
 
 "My lady," he exclaimed, "I trust you do not 
 blame me! What could I do gainst a young 
 man of his sinews, with thirty men at least at 
 his back?" 
 
 "I? censure, you good Bertram? No," re 
 plied Madame Moreau reassuringly. "I sent 
 for you that you might hasten my supper. Tell 
 Baptiste that I shall soon have need of his 
 service. Fasten each door, each shutter, and 
 do not forget to push every bolt home. Let no 
 one enter, and be doubly sure that there s no 
 stranger within the Chateau. Stay, good Bert 
 ram, you might also bid Baptiste bring to 
 Annette her supper as well. I do not wish to 
 be left here alone." 
 
 While Madame Moreau awaited Bertram s 
 appearance with the tray, she called her hand 
 maid and in a short space of time they had three 
 parcels bound securely. The largest and heav 
 iest contained her jewels and rouleaux of gold. 
 166
 
 THE FLIGHT 167 
 
 Their task was finished when Bertram knocked 
 at the door. Baptiste stood behind him and 
 obeying a gesture from his mistress, carried 
 Annette s tray to the inner room where she sat 
 weeping at the thought of so soon leaving her 
 comfortable quarters. 
 
 "Now," asked Madame Moreau of Bert 
 ram, "is all safe and quiet below?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear mistress. I have done as you 
 commanded me." 
 
 "Then go to your son s and stay for the night 
 yes, till I bid you return." 
 
 "But, Madame," expostulated Bertram, with 
 the freedom of age and of one who had grown 
 from a child in the house of Chaillot, "if I 
 leave you, what will you do? You know there 
 is no one in this great Chateau besides Baptiste 
 and Annette." 
 
 "Do, my good Bertram? As I did before. 
 If you are away you will have naught to tell. 
 Did Baptiste fasten the low postern after you, 
 and take the key of the west stairway. I do not 
 think that Monsieur Moreau knows of this 
 entrance it is so hid by the vines in the angle." 
 
 "But, Madame, when shall I see you again?" 
 
 "When Paris is more settled: when I no 
 
 longer have anything to fear. Till then, take 
 
 this, to pay for your keep. I will write you. 
 
 Never forget, Bertram, that Irene de Chaillot 
 
 will ever remember her father s trusty retainer." 
 
 With exclamations of sorrow, of protest, and 
 of thankfulness for the well filled purse she 
 pressed into his hand, he backed from the room
 
 168 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 with as much reverence as though she were a 
 queen. 
 
 A few hours later, as the watchman was call 
 ing through the Rue de Chaillot the hour of 
 twelve, three ghostly figures, arrayed like 
 Dominican Friars, crept noiselessly down the 
 broad stairway. Turning to the left, they made 
 their way into a low-ceiled apartment where, 
 when the door was closed, a candle was lighted, 
 and by its dim flicker Madame Moreau pressed 
 a secret spring. A sliding door shot back. 
 Motioning to Baptiste and Annette to enter 
 with their parcels, she gave a searching glance 
 around. Then turning she looked at the door 
 by which they had come. As she crossed the 
 threshold, the panel fell to behind her. Step 
 ping to the opposite corner of what seemed a 
 high-walled closet, once more she pressed a 
 secret spring, this time on the floor and presto ! 
 up flew a trap door so cunningly fashioned that 
 one could not have told it from the tiles round 
 about. As it opened, a cold damp odor met 
 them, causing both Annette and Baptiste to 
 tremble with fear. This they tried to hide from 
 their young mistress. It was with many a qualm 
 that Baptiste, carrying a lantern to protect the 
 lighted candle that the draft of air might not 
 blow it out, began the descent. Annette hesi 
 tated till her mistress in low, stern tones, bade 
 her make no delay; then she hastened after 
 Baptiste. As once before, Madame Moreau 
 fastened the slide; then quickly joined the others
 
 THE FLIGHT 169 
 
 in the low vaulted chamber. Taking the lan 
 tern from Baptiste, she said impressively: 
 
 "Remember, not a word, not a sound! Keep 
 close to me. And, Annette, if a rat should run 
 across your path, do not scream, for if you 
 should, it might mean the death of all three !" 
 
 Without another word and flashing the lan 
 tern constantly before her, she pressed forward, 
 going boldly ahead into the darkness, turn 
 ing first this corner, then that to the right, 
 to the left. Round first one sharp angle, then 
 another, followed by Baptiste and Annette. 
 More than once, as they stooped low, great 
 drops of water fell upon them. They heard 
 strange noises, loud rumblings, the scuttling of 
 rats in droves. Baptiste and Annette saw 
 ghostly shadows. They were so terrified that 
 they clung desperately to each other. But 
 Madame Moreau, undaunted, unswerving, per 
 sistent, heeding neither the weird sounds, the 
 roughness of the way, nor the dampness, pushed 
 onward. For hours, as it seemed to Annette 
 and Baptiste, they hurried on, with limbs shak 
 ing, teeth chattering, not daring to look about 
 them lest they see some hideous shape looming 
 up in the gloom. 
 
 Twice, thrice, Madame Moreau heard 
 coarse, harsh, brutal voices; men s voices, wom 
 en s as well as men s, foul birds of the night. 
 Still she went steadily on, without hesitation, 
 without question, without even a word, oft- 
 times smelling vile odors, stepping into loath 
 some puddles, straight to her goal. Taking
 
 170 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 from her pocket a key, as she neared a small 
 door similar to that through which they had 
 passed at the foot of the stairs, she bade Bap- 
 tiste hold up the lantern. Glancing at its num 
 ber, wrought in curious Roman figures high up 
 on the lintel, she said brightly: 
 
 Pluck up courage, mes enfants, soon we shall 
 be in safety!" 
 
 With some difficulty she unlocked the door. 
 Lo ! before her was another stairway like that 
 which had led from the Chateau de Chaillot. 
 Again she saw to the fastenings, then mounted 
 the stairs, Baptiste and Annette keeping close at 
 her heels. Arriving at a small landing at the 
 head of the flight, she rapped thrice, then thrice 
 again, and yet once more, repeating the three 
 sharp blows made by the key on the massive 
 oaken door, iron-clamped, before her. Scarcely 
 had she withdrawn her hand when it flew open 
 and there, smiling, urbane, stood her friend, 
 Juvenal des Ursins. Near him was Jean. 
 
 "My child, my child!" he cried, drawing her 
 into the oak-wainscotted room with tender fath 
 erly hands. "To think you should have come 
 such a distance through that terrible place 
 alone. Had I not feared we might pass each 
 other I would have made haste to meet you. 
 Did you meet with trouble by the way?" 
 
 "No, kind friend: but I should not care to 
 take a nightly stroll through these desolate 
 quarries as a pleasure ! Where did Jean meet 
 you? Hark! what is that clamor? Did you
 
 THE FLIGHT 171 
 
 not hear a loud knocking although to be sure 
 it sounds muffled here. I trust that no harm will 
 befall you on my account." 
 
 "No, my child, no. Do not alarm yourself. 
 Sit down and rest and take some refreshment. 
 Jean will attend you while I ascertain the cause 
 of all this noise. Sit down ! and feel no fear for 
 me. Who would dare injure the King s advo 
 cate-general in his own house, with his lackeys 
 about him? I will be back anon, but while I 
 am gone, rest undisturbed. Here you are in 
 safety!" 
 
 It was not long before Juvenal des Ursins 
 returned, saying as he closed behind him the 
 heavy oaken door, which shut with a loud snap : 
 
 "I did inwardly smile, ma chere amie, when 
 I found the cause of the dm. Who should be 
 standing at the portal but a lackey in the livery 
 of Burgundy. Behind him were a dozen knaves, 
 all grinning. Handing me a packet from his 
 lord, he made me haste to the hotel d Artois, 
 where Due John awaits me. I have tarried 
 before obeying the summons that I might open 
 a secret panel to what is called the Queen s 
 Cabinet. There you will find a comfortable 
 bed. When you have closed the door, no one 
 but myself can open it from the outside." 
 
 Crossing to the chimney, he ran his fingers 
 lightly for a foot or more, along the edge of 
 the cornice. Then, as with a quick movement, 
 he pressed one spot more firmly than the rest. 
 A piece of the panel opened, disclosing a com 
 fortable room about fourteen feet square, fur-
 
 172 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 nished with a table, two chairs, a canopied bed, 
 a silver ewer filled with water and a basin. Near 
 the hearth lay piles of fagots. Turning to 
 Jean, he said: 
 
 "Build a fire for your lady, and carry these 
 refreshments to the table yonder." 
 Then to Madame Moreau smilingly: 
 "Enter, my daughter! Feel no misgiving. 
 You are as safe here, yes, more safe, than if 
 you were concealed in any convent in France, 
 Sleep, and may the bon Dieu and his minister 
 ing angels keep you in His watchful care. On 
 the morrow we will talk, but now, bon soir! 
 You Jean and Baptiste, stay in this outer cham 
 ber and, no matter who doth come rapping at 
 the door, speak not a word : answer not a call ! 
 I do not think you will be troubled, for but one 
 other besides myself knows of this room. Once 
 more, ma chere, bon soir!"
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 THE "QUEEN S CABINET" 
 
 "This is hard and undeserved measure." 
 
 All s Well That Ends Well. 
 
 When the fire was lighted Madame Moreau 
 said to Jean with an effort at cheerfulness : 
 
 "You need not awaken poor Baptiste too 
 early. He has had a sore strain this night and 
 I misdoubt if he would care to travel that road 
 again. Would you, Baptiste?" 
 
 "No, my lady, not I! But, Madame, you 
 saw how I took care of Annette, who was in 
 constant fear of her shadow?" 
 
 "And what were you ?" cried Annette. "You 
 trembled and shook and your hands were as 
 cold as any old woman s with the megrimes I" 
 
 "There, there!" exclaimed Jean. "Do you 
 not see that our lady is tired? She is too kind, 
 too forbearing, too patient with your chatter. 
 At times you seem to forget that Madame 
 Moreau is the Marquise de Chaillot!" 
 
 "Jean, do not chide them. They are but des 
 enfants, meaning well and faithful. If they are 
 not as strong and dependable as you, I am cer 
 tain they are loyal to their mistress." 
 
 As Madame Moreau half sat, half reclined 
 on a low divan while her handmaiden with a 
 slow, loving touch, brushed out her purplish 
 
 173
 
 174 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 masses of hair, her thoughts went back to 
 her interview with Monsieur Moreau. A smile, 
 half scornful, half mirthful, flitted over her face, 
 only to leave it grave and sad. Later, as her 
 head rested on the pillow in the darkness, she 
 drew from her bosom a fine gold chain on which 
 was suspended a broad signet ring, a man s ring. 
 Carved deep on the brilliant emerald was the 
 crest of Wotton. Pressing her lips caressingly 
 upon it, her face the while suffused with a deep 
 blush, she murmured to herself, "I could not do 
 this, if I" 
 
 At that moment, Annette s query as to 
 whether she needed anything more for the 
 night, interrupted her flow of thought. Quickly 
 returning to its resting place over her heart the 
 heirloom which the Earl in his haste had left at 
 The Silver Moon, she replied kindly: 
 
 "No, Annette, I need nothing. Prithee, go 
 to your rest." 
 
 Madame Moreau, waking suddenly out of a 
 sound sleep and seeing the straggling gleams of 
 sunshine which came through two narrow slits 
 high in the thick wall, thought it morning. 
 While she lay dreamily thinking, the light 
 changed to a flood of golden radiance. Noth 
 ing broke the intense stillness but Annette s reg 
 ular breathing. Madame Moreau, as she 
 watched the health-giving beams fade from her 
 sight, had taken no account of time, but at last, 
 feeling a tang of hunger, she aroused Annette. 
 
 There was a chilly dampness in the room 
 which was soon dispelled when her handmaiden
 
 THE "QUEEN S CABINET" 175 
 
 relighted the fire. Neither perceived, when 
 breakfast was over that, in place of the sun, 
 there shone through the narrow openings the 
 soft silvery sheen of the queen of night. Annette 
 who was busily tidying the room, suddenly 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Why, Madame Moreau, just look! Is not 
 that the moon?" 
 
 Her young mistress whose glance had fol 
 lowed the little handmaiden s outstretched 
 finger, saw to her surprise two narrow bands of 
 silver. Then, and then only, did she fully real 
 ize that the sun, instead of rising, had been set 
 ting. Then, and then only, did the thought 
 come to her that, in his haste, Juvenal des 
 Ursins had forgotten to show her the secret 
 spring! Darting from her chair, she closely 
 examined the wall, the cornice and the fret-work 
 of carving which encircled each panel, at the 
 same time calling upon Annette to do the same. 
 But in spite of their care to press every spot the 
 conviction, after repeated trials, was forced 
 home that they were walled in: that there they 
 must remain until released by Juvenal des 
 Ursins. 
 
 Madame Moreau began to question his long 
 absence. Surely he said that in the morning 
 they would discuss the business which had 
 brought her to Paris? Had he come and, find 
 ing her asleep, knowing how weary she must 
 have been, left her to slumber? Yes, that must 
 be it! Rapping on the wall, she called loudly: 
 
 "Jean! Jean!"
 
 176 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 But the only response was a muffled, uncertain 
 echo. She strove to wait with what patience 
 she could for her release, but torturing doubts 
 which she endeavored to hide from Annette, 
 assailed her. What if aught should have hap 
 pened to the advocate-general? What if this 
 summons from the duke was only a ruse that he 
 might be murdered as had been the king s 
 brother? What if he had been waylaid on the 
 street stabbed to death in the darkness? 
 Mayhap even now he was lying unconscious, 
 under the very same roof with herself ! 
 
 What should she do if he should not come? 
 Must she die like a rat in a trap, slowly starved 
 to death, feeling one by one the sands of life 
 drift away? Or, maddened by the very thought 
 of confinement, would she be tempted to kill 
 both herself and Annette? Once again spring 
 ing to her feet, she walked restlessly to and fro. 
 The pretty room now seemed a cage. She 
 caught herself chiding Annette as she turned 
 some water into the basin, crying: "Do not 
 waste that ! We may need it ere long to quench 
 our thirst!" 
 
 Then, as the hours passed, the moon, dis 
 appearing, gave way to the dawn which peered 
 in with ghostly eyes, reminding her that another 
 day had come. She wondered if their meagre 
 supply of food would hold out till they were 
 released. Annette, spent with weeping, lay 
 asleep where, like a tired child, she had thrown 
 herself in the middle of the night. But to 
 Madame Moreau, torn by varied emotions,
 
 THE "QUEEN S CABINET" 177 
 
 with eyes staring and brain reeling with incessant 
 questioning, came no such blessed relief. She 
 was like a storm-tossed ship, buffeted, crushed, 
 beaten for the time by a great tidal wave of 
 despair, borne down, down, down, till exhausted 
 and spent with the struggle, all seemed lost. 
 
 Hope, the handmaid of sorrow, like the 
 change of wind and tide that saves the ship, at 
 last uplifted, strengthened, buoyed her with the 
 promise that God s deliverance would yet be 
 hers. 
 
 Three days passed. After the first struggle, 
 Madame Moreau s courageous nature resumed 
 its sway. Although for the last eight hours 
 they had been without food, her courage, her 
 confidence, her reliance on the Infinite One, 
 caused her to say to Annette : 
 
 "We have much to be thankful for, mon 
 enfant! Each of us still has a tumbler of 
 water with which to quench her thirst!" 
 
 During these days, Jean and Baptiste fared 
 better than their mistress. Though confined 
 as closely, yet their room was much larger. 
 Then, too, Jean, who had assisted Juvenal des 
 Ursins to supply the tray with dried fruits, 
 wine and other refreshments, knew that in the 
 closet close at hand was plenty with which to 
 appease the hunger of himself and Baptiste. 
 Hearing no sound from the cabinet which 
 Madame Moreau and Annette had entered, he, 
 thinking that they had been released and were 
 no doubt safely lodged in a more spacious apart 
 ment, felt no disquiet. Still he was restless,
 
 178 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 feeling much as would a wild animal confined 
 in a pen. Although unable to sleep the long 
 hours away, as did Baptiste, he was anxious to 
 serve his young mistress. On the fourth even 
 ing, while saying to Baptiste, "I would give a 
 louis d or for a breath of fresh woodland air," 
 Jean was startled by the first sound he had 
 heard clearly since Madame Moreau closed the 
 panel. It was a sharp clang, followed by loud 
 battering and incessant rapping. Baptiste would 
 have cried out, but with an imperative gesture, 
 Jean bade him be still. The rapping continued; 
 they heard muffled voices and indistinct foot 
 steps. It was a full hour before quiet again 
 reigned. 
 
 "What was it, Jean?" anxiously queried 
 Baptiste, whose eyes had grown big with fear. 
 "Surely it was not Madame!" 
 
 "Most certainly not," answered Jean. "Her 
 room is at the right, while these sounds came 
 from the corridor. You may depend on it, man, 
 the house is being searched by Monsieur Mo 
 reau and his minions." 
 
 "What for?" asked Baptiste. 
 
 "Are you a fool!" exclaimed Jean angrily, 
 though in a guarded voice. "Why did our mis 
 tress fly from the Chateau de Chaillot four 
 nights ago, if it was not from him the vilest 
 wretch that was ever born, even though he be 
 Madame s husband." 
 
 "But how happened she to marry him, Jean, 
 if she did not love him? He s not so handsome, 
 nor rich, nor anything else, as I can see I"
 
 THE "QUEEN S CABINET" 179 
 
 "Love!" repeated Jean in scorn. "Love? 
 a brute like that! What are you thinking of, 
 man? I thought every one knew how it came 
 about. It s no secret. Hearken : these walls 
 may have ears while I whisper the whole black 
 plot: that such it was I am sure, and if I mistake 
 not, Queen Isabel had a finger in the pie." 
 
 "You know, Baptiste, our young mistress is 
 a ward of the King, and was a maid-of-honor at 
 the Court, as was her mother before her. The 
 Queen, as mayhap you are aware, hated her 
 son, the Dauphin, and every one he felt kindly 
 toward. It was said that he loved our mistress. 
 So also, it was said, did the Duke of Orleans." 
 
 "But they are married!" exclaimed Baptiste. 
 
 "What difference does that make to quality?" 
 answered Jean sententiously. "But if you keep 
 interrupting me you will never hear the story. 
 One night, in the Queen s private apartments, 
 where lords and ladies were in waiting, Queen 
 Isabel proposed a mock marriage and suggested 
 that the man and woman who should draw a 
 slip of paper with the word Hymen upon it, 
 should be the ones to carry out her marriage 
 prank. Our lady, the Marquise de Chaillot, 
 was the third to draw. On her white slip, writ 
 plain, was the fatal word. 
 
 "The Dauphin and Due d Orleans were pres 
 ent, but much to their disgust were unsuccessful 
 in drawing the mate to the one our young lady 
 held. When reminded they were already mar 
 ried, it was said each laughingly replied that, 
 as it was all a jest, they were quite as eligible
 
 180 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 as any one else. Eight different lords put their 
 fortunes to the test, so I heard, with no better 
 result. Then four more but their scraps of 
 paper, like the others, were blank. Monsieur 
 Moreau who, as you know, is a bastard some 
 say the son of Queen Isabel herself, drew the 
 thirteenth. Clearly writ on his slip of white 
 paper was the word Hymen. Our dear young 
 lady tried to beg off, but Queen Isabel would 
 not hearken to her entreaties; instead, she made 
 her at once retire and return in bridal raiment. 
 A half hour later, without one glance at Mon 
 sieur, who stood beside her, she went through 
 the mock service, or what she thought was that. 
 But after the ladies present and the lords-in- 
 waiting had flocked about them to congratulate 
 the happy pair, Queen Isabel exclaimed in a 
 loud voice that every one might hear, It can 
 not be possible, Sir Duke! It was to Burgundy 
 she spoke. I thought him a novice ! Do you 
 mean that he has taken holy orders ? Then it 
 came out that the brown-robed Capuchin was 
 not, as the Queen had led all to believe, one who 
 was studying for the priesthood but, in spite of 
 his youth, had been for two years a monk! 
 Then it was that our lady fainted. She was 
 borne to her chamber. When she recovered she 
 barred the door and in spite of the Queen s 
 urgent summons, kept it bolted. 
 
 "Late in the night I was bidden by her maid 
 to wait, that I might guide them to this very 
 house. Still later, I went with her through the 
 quarry to her Chateau, and long ere any one
 
 THE "QUEEN S CABINET" 181 
 
 had dreamed that our mistress had left Paris, 
 she and I were each riding a swift horse, bound 
 for the Loire. 
 
 "You know the rest how, after a month at 
 the Chateau she took you and Annette into her 
 service, and how ever since she has been con 
 stantly changing her abode, staying but a few 
 weeks at a time, first here, then there, lest those 
 who search for her should find her!"
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AN ENFORCED JOURNEY AND A TIMELY 
 RETURN 
 
 "Blame not this haste of mine." 
 
 Twelfth Night. 
 
 "Better three hours too soon than a minute too late." 
 The Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 Juvenal des Ursins, after opening for Ma 
 dame Moreau the secret chamber, hastened to 
 Hotel d Artois, where he was shown into a low, 
 narrow room on the ground floor, there to 
 await the duke s pleasure. So absorbed was he 
 in thoughts of his fair young friend who had 
 come to him for professional advice under such 
 trying circumstances, that he took no note of 
 time. It was not until he heard the sound of 
 footsteps in the great hall, the clinking of spurs, 
 and voices raised in anger, that he became con 
 scious that the gray light of dawn was entering 
 the mullioned window near him. Starting to 
 his feet, he exclaimed: 
 
 "Ma foil Where have the hours flown 1" 
 
 As he hesitated whether or not to summon a 
 lackey, the door was thrown violently open and 
 the Duke, with red face and flashing eyes, strode 
 across the threshold. 
 
 "Ah, ventre Saint-Jean! you are here then. 
 I have been waiting speech with you, fretting 
 and fuming to think you did not come. You 
 182
 
 ENFORCED JOURNEY AND TIMELY RETURN 183 
 
 have doubtless been wondering why, since I sent 
 for you in such haste, you should be kept kick 
 ing your heels in this vault-like ante-room." 
 
 "No, my lord Duke," replied the advocate- 
 general in a conciliatory tone. "On the con 
 trary, I was thinking of matters apart from you, 
 and became so lost in reverie that I failed to 
 mark the flight of time." 
 
 "The knave who brought you here," said the 
 Duke with an expression not pleasant to behold, 
 "has forgot to his cost. But enough of him! 
 By this time he has become carrion! 
 
 "I have matters of the gravest importance 
 on which I would consult you. I intended doing 
 so before leaving Paris. My horse is at the 
 door, my troop is mounted, and as the matter 
 cannot be postponed I see no other way to 
 surmount the difficulty than that you ride with 
 me. Ma foil old man, do not look so glum. 
 You need go but a day s journey. Perchance 
 the advice that I seek you can give in a shorter 
 time." 
 
 "But, my lord Duke!" exclaimed Juvenal des 
 Ursins excitedly, "it is impossible, quite impos 
 sible ! I have matters that demand my imme 
 diate attention." 
 
 "Who says impossible to the Duke of Bur 
 gundy? Fentrebleu! Why, man! if you will 
 not accompany me of your own free will, then 
 you shall be forced to it, for go you must!" 
 
 "But if I could explain " cried Juvenal des 
 Ursins, in great agitation.
 
 184 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Explain, explain! That is just what I want 
 of you, man. Come, no more delay. The 
 quicker we take to the road the more speedy 
 will be your return." 
 
 Without waiting longer without even a 
 glance to see if the advocate-general were fol 
 lowing, the Duke of Burgundy, relentless, resist 
 less, inexorable as fate, returned with masterful 
 tread to the hall. After issuing his orders in 
 a voice loud and commanding, he turned at the 
 iron-clamped door to exclaim imperatively: 
 
 "There, Juvenal des Ursins, are two horses. 
 Choose." 
 
 "Needs must when the devil drives," mut- 
 teerd the advocate, as he selected a roan, broad- 
 chested, straight-limbed and slender of foot. 
 There was a quiet twinkle in the Duke s eyes 
 for, although these words had not been intended 
 for his ear, he had overheard them and, since 
 he was having his own way, they went well with 
 his humor. Toward the Pont Saint Denis rode 
 the troop. As they passed the people gave way, 
 shouting loudly, "Five le Burgundy! Five le 
 Burgundy!" 
 
 Our old friend, with bowed head and gray 
 locks floating in the breeze, and with heart sad 
 and dispirited, was being torn by varied emo 
 tions. His thoughts reverted to the anxiety of 
 his wife and Madame Moreau. He was thank 
 ful, at least, that Jean knew of the cupboard 
 which contained sufficient to sustain life until his 
 return. Although it could not be pleasant to 
 remain cooped in such close quarters, still he
 
 ENFORCED JOURNEY AND TIMELY RETURN 185 
 
 smiled drily at the thought, "One thing is cer 
 tain. Monsieur Moreau will search far and 
 wide without finding the white dove he is striv 
 ing to ensnare!" 
 
 He had forgotten that, in his haste, he had 
 neglected to show the secret spring to Madame 
 Moreau. 
 
 When they halted at noon without the Duke 
 having even mentioned the subject which had 
 seemed uppermost in his mind, he mentally 
 pictured his young charge disturbed, restless 
 perhaps, yet with hunger appeased, impatiently 
 awaiting his return. 
 
 Night came and still they pushed forward, 
 the Duke of Burgundy silent, morose, unmind 
 ful of the distress and evident anxiety he was 
 causing to the man riding by his side. In spite 
 of Juvenal des Ursins s questioning, protesting, 
 he was borne onward by a force unswerving, 
 compelling, irresistible. Another day followed, 
 similar to the first; still not a word on the part 
 of the Duke as to the matter which he had 
 seemed in such haste to have explained. 
 
 Three days and three nights they rode, pay 
 ing scant attention to the beautiful scenery with 
 its promise of harvest and soft russet tints of 
 autumn. Still urgent, taciturn, untiring, the 
 Duke, although quick to observe if his troop 
 were out of line, apparently gave little thought 
 to aught but his own plans. His face seemed 
 a mask, impenetrable. At times when some 
 dominant note strove for expression, a vivid 
 flash would come to his eyes, emitting a bhiish-
 
 186 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 white light which reminded the advocate-general 
 of forked lightning, darting from a black sul 
 phurous cloud. 
 
 On the fourth evening, just at dusk, they ar 
 rived at the Castle of Aire where the Duke s 
 eldest son, Comte Charolais, resided. Not until 
 Juvenal des Ursins had met the young nobleman, 
 noble in the truest sense of the word, was he 
 told by the anxious father, Duke John, the 
 pride of Burgundy, why he had been forced to 
 leave Paris. 
 
 "You see," said the Duke as a gleam of 
 amusement shot from his eyes, "that the devil 
 needs must!" 
 
 Then, marking the confusion which his words 
 had produced, he added in a voice pregnant with 
 emotion : 
 
 "When I die, Philip, the Comte of Charo 
 lais, who is goodness itself and even more brave 
 than his father who has been dubbed The Fear 
 less, will reign over the Duchy of Burgundy. 
 He is determined to take part in this battle 
 which the Constable will press on the English 
 near Agincourt. I have not forgot the fate of 
 King John and have no intention of either per 
 mitting the Comte, or myself, to take up arms 
 against England at least for the present. It 
 is for this reason I brought you here, that you 
 might dissuade him from his insane purpose." 
 
 "But, my lord," expostulated the advocate, 
 "surely there are those who would have greater 
 influence with the Comte of Charolais than 
 myself."
 
 ENFORCED JOURNEY AND TIMELY RETURN 187 
 
 "Perchance so," replied the Duke medita 
 tively. "I know he greatly admires your zeal, 
 your honesty, your undeviating loyalty to the 
 King and France. What press of affairs have 
 you in Paris to make you so troubled? Out 
 with it. If to me it seems more urgent than 
 my own, I will send you hot foot over the road 
 which you have just come !" 
 
 For a moment Juvenal des Ursins hesitated, 
 remembering that in the past Duke John had 
 not sided with Monsieur Moreau; remember 
 ing, too, that he was no party to this plot of 
 the Queen, he came to a sudden resolution. 
 Striking while the iron was yet hot, he put 
 certain questions to the Duke. These being 
 answered to his satisfaction, he explained to him 
 his present situation with many of its attendant 
 circumstances. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Duke John know 
 ingly. "Ha, ha, ha! you are a sly fox. That 
 is the name given to those of your profession 
 a sly fox! Here has the Dauphin, the Due 
 d Orleans, Monsieur Moreau even Burgundy 
 himself, been searching France over for this 
 fair dame, and you knew all the time where to 
 find her!" 
 
 For a moment as the advocate recalled to 
 mind the Duke s partiality for fair women, he 
 feared that he had put his fair young charge 
 in the Duke s power, that peradventure his 
 words might be the means of slipping the jess 
 from this proud falcon, whose cruel beak and 
 talons might be the very ones to rend and tear
 
 188 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 the white dove he was striving to shield, and 
 his heart misgave him. On second thought, 
 having gone so far, he made up his mind to grip 
 firmly the two horns of the dilemma by telling 
 the Duke all. 
 
 "You see, my lord," he began, endeavoring to 
 appear calm, "Madame Moreau s hiding-place 
 is of my own devising. Never doubting but 
 that I should see her the next morning, I left 
 scanty provisions. The fear constantly haunts 
 me that they will not hold out." 
 
 "Mow Dieuf man. If I did not know you, I 
 should take you for a knave or a fool ! Do you 
 think I would have dragged you from Paris 
 had you told me? Go to her: this very hour 
 if you wish. Do you think you can turn back 
 tonight? If so, you may have the fleetest horse 
 in my stable, with a score of lackeys to escort 
 you on the road. Then, perchance, if you tell 
 this glorious Psyche that I would never have 
 taken you from Paris had I dreamed of her 
 peril, she will forgive my discourtesy and keep 
 a warm corner in her heart for the Due de 
 Burgundy!" 
 
 Early on the morning of October 26th, the 
 day following the Battle of Agincourt, Juvenal 
 des Ursins arrived in Paris. Driven forward 
 by a terrible fear lest he had forgotten to show 
 Madame Moreau how to open the panel, he had 
 spared neither himself nor his horses, taking 
 every cross-road so as to shorten the distance. 
 Excited, fearful, almost distraught, he sprang 
 from the saddle at his own door, awakening the
 
 ENFORCED JOURNEY AND TIMELY RETURN 189 
 
 echoes of the silent street by loud repeated 
 knockings. With scarcely a word to the attend 
 ant who, with eyes half opened, admitted him, 
 he rushed down the main hall, across the corri 
 dor, down a flight of stairs and through several 
 rooms, till he reached the door he had fastened 
 so securely behind him five nights before. 
 Quickly he pressed the spring and pushed back 
 the bolt. Entering, he found Jean and Baptiste 
 so fast asleep that neither was aware of his 
 presence. Looking about him, he saw that the 
 panel was closed! 
 
 Shaking Jean, and almost screaming in his 
 excitement, he cried: 
 
 "Your mistress, man! where is Madame 
 Moreau?" 
 
 Jean, awakened as he was from a sound 
 slumber, rubbed his eyes half dazed, uncertain 
 at first who was speaking. Then, as the ques 
 tion was repeated in a voice so fraught with 
 fear that it pierced even his sleep-locked senses, 
 he exclaimed interrogatively: 
 
 "My mistress, Madame Moreau? Is she 
 not with you, Monsieur?" 
 
 "No, man! dolt: fool! She is there! Mon 
 Dieuf In what plight shall we find her!" 
 
 Wasting no time in further questioning, Ju 
 venal des Ursins ran frantically to the chimney. 
 With reeling brain and bated breath, his fingers 
 played swiftly up and down on the secret spring. 
 A loud click, and the panel slid back. In the 
 meantime Jean had lighted two candles, his fore 
 thought as alert as that of the advocate. Press-
 
 190 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 ing the tall silver candle-stick into the hand of 
 the trembling old man, they glanced fearfully 
 into the room. 
 
 There, on the floor near the bed, lay Annette, 
 pallid and wasted. Neither dared to speak, 
 scarcely to breathe, as they stepped into the 
 chamber. When the light fell on the bed it 
 revealed Madame Moreau, bolstered high with 
 pillows, her former clear brunette complexion 
 changed to a greenish-yellow, her face haggard 
 and drawn with suffering. There she lay so 
 weak and exhausted through lack of food and 
 water that, had it not been for the intense bril 
 liancy of her eyes, they would have thought by 
 her perfect stillness and her ashen lips, that her 
 inert form was but the shell from which the 
 pure soul had departed. 
 
 When Juvenal des Ursins first caught sight 
 of her his candle would have fallen from his 
 nerveless grasp had it not been for Jean who, 
 hastily seizing it placed it upon the table. Then, 
 without a word he rushed to the cupboard in 
 the outer room, returning with a tankard of 
 water and a bottle of wine. 
 
 Lifting his mistress s head tenderly from the 
 pillow, Jean gently poured a few drops of the 
 stimulating liquid into her half open mouth. 
 Then, pouring some into his hand he bathed her 
 face, then said, somewhat dictatorily to the 
 advocate-general, "Give some to Annette !" But 
 seeing how shaking was the hand outstretched 
 for the bottle, he laid his mistress s head back
 
 ENFORCED JOURNEY AND TIMELY RETURN 191 
 
 on the pillow and himself filled the tankard, 
 saying encouragingly : 
 
 "Drink, monsieur: you are worn out and 
 nigh spent!" 
 
 As he stepped back, he saw a grateful expres 
 sion in the eyes of his mistress which made tears, 
 their course all unheeded, roll down his cheeks. 
 
 "Dieu mercif" cried Jean. "She will live." 
 
 "Power of God!" fervently responded Ju 
 venal des Ursins.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT 
 
 "And what poor duty cannot do, 
 Noble respect takes it in might, not merit." 
 
 A Midsummer Night s Dream. 
 
 "My mind is made up," exclaimed the Duke 
 of Burgundy irritably. "I cannot tarry longer 
 here, Philip, having great need to be elsewhere. 
 I expect you to remain till my return. Heed 
 my behest and take no side against the Eng 
 lish." 
 
 "But, Sire, why bid me stay here at the Castle 
 of Aire with my government as if I were but a 
 fledgling? Can you not see what it would cost 
 me to play the coward s part?" 
 
 "Cost you!" cried the Duke impatiently. 
 "Are you not a Burgundian? Have you no 
 stomach for those who one day will look to 
 you to rule in my stead? Do you suppose your 
 arm can stay defeat? As true as you have a 
 soul to save, the English will set blood flowing 
 till France shall mourn her dead as never 
 before ! As to you being a coward, let any 
 man dare breathe such a calumny against son 
 of mine, and he shall rue the day that his mother 
 bore him!" 
 
 The next morning Duke John of Burgundy 
 rode proudly away from the Castle of Aire, 
 192
 
 THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT 193 
 
 with twice the following he had brought with 
 him. From the great doorway, Comte Charo- 
 lais looked forth on the glittering pageant with 
 sombre, moody expression, and heart full of 
 rebellion. Though not resigned to it, he still 
 intended to obey this mandate of his father. 
 So sheltered had been his short life that he knew 
 naught of the wiles, the deceit, nor the licen 
 tiousness of the Court. He had lived more as 
 a cloistered nun than as one destined to become 
 the head of a great house. Skilful in the hand 
 ling of arms, quick at fence, firm of seat in the 
 saddle, he had never before felt the desire to 
 leave his books till now when he felt convinced 
 that every hand should strike a blow for France. 
 One by one, his servants left him to take part 
 in the coming fray. He, from very shame, 
 locked himself in his room where he spent days 
 and nights in useless repining at his father s 
 decision. 
 
 When the news reached him of the battle of 
 Agincourt and of the entire route of the French 
 army, his grief knew no bounds, when he 
 thought that, had it not been for his father s 
 bidding, he would have unsheathed his sword. 
 Not until he was told of the death of his uncle, 
 the Duke of Brabant, did he arouse himself to 
 action. Assembling his servants, he hastened 
 to the field that he might care for the wounded 
 and see that those who had died while defend 
 ing the honor of France, were suitably interred. 
 It was while performing this sad office for the 
 dead that his father joined him. He, too, had
 
 194 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 hastened to Agincourt on hearing of his broth 
 er s sad fate. 
 
 After the Earl s return to the English camp, 
 the night before the battle, Lady Beatrice 
 retired to her chamber where on her knees, 
 with tears pouring like rain down her cheeks, 
 she prayed not only for her father whom she 
 so dearly loved, and the King whose youth and 
 bravery made him dear to every English heart, 
 but for the army which, though depleted by 
 sickness would, she felt sure, in the hour of trial 
 prove itself pure gold. She prayed, too, for 
 old Simon and Jock, while the other stout yeo 
 men were not forgotten. There was one more 
 in the ranks of the enemy the gallant young 
 Frenchman, Comte Raoul d Epernon who, had 
 he seen her then, would have had his doubts 
 dispelled. 
 
 With the first peep of dawn she rose from 
 her knees and threw her narrow casement wide. 
 Drawing in long breaths of the fresh dewy air, 
 she wondered vaguely when the battle would 
 begin and, as though in answer, from the dis 
 tance clear and resonant came the trumpet call 
 of the English. The sun rose, climbing higher 
 and higher. So intent were her thoughts on 
 what the day might bring that she gave little 
 heed to its invigorating rays. Again sounded 
 the clear call of the trumpet, and still again, 
 while from the French camp she could even hear 
 the tramping of horses, the champing of bits, 
 mingled with voices of men and all the myster 
 ious sounds that attend a large throng. A shiver
 
 THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT 195 
 
 went over her : she trembled, while a suspicious 
 moisture gathered in her eyes. Just then Bess, 
 entering with her breakfast, exclaimed excitedly : 
 "Sit down, Lady Beatrice. You will see enough 
 before the day is out, I warrant. Hugh Brey- 
 onne said that the battle will take place in plain 
 sight of the Castle!" 
 
 Her young mistress scarcely spared time to 
 eat the boiled egg or drink the mulled wine, so 
 eager was she to learn why the French troop 
 did not advance. She had observed the three 
 heralds ride to the English camp and return. 
 In vain did she make inquiry of the old senes 
 chal, but he was no wiser than herself. At 
 midday, the English host made the first over 
 tures of battle. In its centre, aggressive, 
 defiant, flaunted the royal banner of England, 
 while outspread close in its rear, were those of 
 Gloucester and Suffolk. In the left wing, more 
 prominent than those of the Lords about it, 
 was that of York. Then, as she strained her 
 eyes to where the pennants of Warwick and 
 Westmoreland were floating, she saw the ban 
 ner of Wotton proudly uplifted. Her heart 
 swelled with pride. For the moment, in her 
 excitement as she watched the archers deploying 
 to the right and left, she forgot what war really 
 meant. 
 
 Late, looking forth from her casement, 
 shrinking, fascinated, horrified, she found it im 
 possible to withdraw her gaze from the frightful 
 spectacle before her. Her interest was not 
 confined to the English camp, as Bess was quick
 
 196 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 to observe. When the superbly mounted French 
 cavalry made its charge, Lady Beatrice ex 
 claimed in a tone of triumph : 
 
 "See, Bess, see! There are the d Epernon 
 colors. There is the Comte. Look at him ! 
 Have you thus far seen a braver deed than 
 that?" 
 
 "My eyes are not on the French but with 
 the English!" replied Bess with a toss of her 
 head. "You did not notice Robert of Der- 
 water as he ran to the King s side." 
 
 "To the King!" exclaimed Lady Beatrice in 
 astonishment. "To the King?" 
 
 "Yes, my lady; and there goes your father 
 followed by Aleck, bearing the Wotton colors, 
 with old Simon and Jock ! See the crowd about 
 King Hal. Would we were there to learn what 
 the coil is all about!" 
 
 "Thank goodness we are not!" replied her 
 mistress, shuddering. As the battle waged more 
 and more fiercely and the struggling mass drew 
 nearer and nearer to the Castle, the sights be 
 came so horrible that Lady Beatrice and Bess 
 were glad to close the casement and put their 
 hands to their ears to shut out the screams of 
 the horses, the groans of the wounded, and 
 the shrieks of the dying. As the afternoon 
 waned and the rout of the French army denoted 
 their defeat, Lady Beatrice at heart could not 
 rejoice, though she kept saying to herself, "The 
 English arms are victorious ! The King has 
 conquered!"
 
 THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT 197 
 
 It may have been the strain of the night 
 before or the prolonged anxiety of the day 
 which, as she crossed her chamber made her 
 knees tremble a sensation strange to her young 
 life stole over her, and without understanding 
 what it portended, she fainted. An hour later, 
 when she heard Bess weeping piteously in the 
 court-yard, although she knew it was filled with 
 ghastly sights she did not shrink, but hastened 
 to her. It was while standing beside Robert 
 of Derwater, looking down on his dead face, 
 that her father saw her. She was so intent in 
 her efforts to console Bess that she had failed 
 to notice Saladin or his burden till a plaintive 
 whinny attracted her attention. Her heart beat 
 with tumultuous gladness when she -saw her 
 father safe and well. But when she recognized 
 the Count s limp form, his blood-stained clothes, 
 as he was being carried into the great hall of 
 the Castle, once more there stole over her a 
 feeling of faintness from which she quickly 
 rallied, as she thought, "Perchance I can be 
 of service!" 
 
 Before sunset Henry the Fifth knew that the 
 field was won, that the English arms were 
 victorious. As at Poitiers and Crecy, the ban 
 ner of England waved once again proudly, tri 
 umphant. The King, before dusk, called some 
 of his lords to him, among them the Earl of 
 Wotton, to attend him on his search upon the 
 battlefield for the Earl of Sussex. It was then 
 that Beatrice s father, attended by Simon, found 
 the Comte d Epernon. The self-deputed sen-
 
 198 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 tinel, the gallant Saladin, evidently recognized 
 Ajax, for he whinnied shrilly. Quickly dis 
 mounting, the Earl hastened to the Comte. 
 Stripping open his shirt he put his ear to the 
 Comte s heart to see if there were signs of life. 
 Simon assisted the Earl to place the wounded 
 Comte upon the back of the faithful horse. 
 Saladin bore his lord slowly to the Castle of 
 Agincourt. 
 
 The Earl of Wotton was not prepared for 
 the sight that met him in the stone court-yard. 
 He was intent on seeing that the Count was 
 lifted carefully from the back of his faithful 
 horse, and had it not been for the loud wailing 
 of Bess, his attention would not have been 
 attracted to the presence of his daughter. With 
 a final order to Simon, he turned to see the 
 brave Captain of Archers, Robert of Derwater, 
 stretched upon a stone bench. Calmly and peace 
 fully, the cold majesty of death was imprinted 
 upon the gallant yeoman s face. His blood 
 stained garments told their own sad story. 
 
 Henry V. had already made preparations for 
 his march to Calais. The Earl had decided 
 to leave Beatrice with the Duchess until such 
 time as the King should sail for England. It 
 was the Earl s intention to meet the Duchess 
 and Lady Beatrice in Paris. This morning he 
 had called to say farewell, and was standing 
 by the bedside of the Count, who lay pale, weak 
 and exhausted from loss of blood, yet conscious 
 of all that was taking place around him. The 
 Earl was telling him of his plans. The Count,
 
 THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT 199 
 
 more with his eyes than by words, asked his 
 permission to speak of his love to Lady Bea 
 trice. The Earl replied smiling: 
 
 "Patience, my dear Count, patience! Get 
 well of your wounds that you may take charge 
 of the Duchess and my daughter on their way 
 to Paris. Then we will decide our next course. 
 I do not forbid you loving Lady Beatrice, nor 
 could I if I would restrain your eyes from 
 telling her. But I shall depend on your honor 
 to stay your speech till such time as I give you 
 permission."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS 
 
 "Sometimes from her eyes 
 I did receive fair speechless messages." 
 The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 On a raw chilly day in November, two weeks 
 after the battle of Agincourt, Lady Beatrice, 
 well wrapped in a fur-lined pelisse to keep out 
 the northeast winds, was walking on the broad 
 battlements of the castle. Bess, who had joined 
 her with listless step and heavy eyes, showed 
 plainly that the death of Robert of Derwater 
 had left for the time being, a strong impression 
 on her volatile nature. As she looked forth 
 on the great mounds of earth where the dead 
 lay in their last resting-place, Lady Beatrice 
 said sadly: 
 
 "I shall be glad to get away from here. All 
 the beauty of the landscape is marred by those 
 great hillocks, which are constant reminders of 
 the fearful sights of that never to be forgotten 
 day. Even the sky has a sad and sombre look 
 as though all its brightness had been washed 
 out by tears that blessed rain which cleansed 
 away those dreadful stains, that made me shud 
 der whenever I looked from my casement." 
 
 "Ay," said Bess; "when I heard it falling 
 the other night I was thankful ! You will be 
 200
 
 THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS 201 
 
 glad to hear that my patients are better. This 
 morning Edward of Brentwood walked across 
 the chamber, and when I was setting out his 
 breakfast, he said blithely, In a week s time, 
 I shall be ready to ride with my cousin to 
 Paris. Do you know, Lady Beatrice, if Simon 
 and Jock will come with the Earl?" 
 
 "I know not for certain," replied her young 
 mistress with the ghost of a smile in her eyes. 
 "Yet I should not wonder if they did. Would 
 you be glad to see old Simon?" 
 
 "Yes, and his son Jock as well. You need 
 not think because it would be pleasant to see 
 Jock, that I can forget! When you are sore 
 at heart it is restful to have one near whom you 
 know loves you better than you deserve. Jock 
 is a good lad!" 
 
 "What do you think, Bess, of the Count? 
 Does he improve? I wish I were like you, then 
 I could see for myself ! If my father were here, 
 I am sure he would not oppose me. Did you 
 not say he was dressed and about his room?" 
 
 "Yes, my lady, these two days or more, and 
 he is as worried to get a sight at you as a hen 
 whose brood of ducks hath gone into the water; 
 leastwise, the leech says that if he would be 
 calmer and more reasonable, his wound would 
 heal the faster. But yesterday evening when 1 
 was lighting his candles, he did ask so suddenly, 
 How is your mistress? that I came nigh drop 
 ping the red coal from the tongs. Then as it 
 flared up, he said anxious-like, This morning 
 I saw her from my window. To me she looked
 
 202 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 pale, as though she were ill. Is your mistress 
 pining to see her father? Methinks he will 
 reach Paris before the week is out, and no 
 doubt Lady Beatrice desires to be gone from 
 the Castle of Agincourt. Here am I, coddled 
 as any old woman, confined like a bird in a 
 cage, keeping her, because forsooth, I have 
 what the leech calls fever! As though it were 
 not enough to make one have all kinds of ail 
 ments shut out from the air, from exercise, from 
 but, bonne foif What is the use of com 
 plaining? Tomorrow, if the day be fine, I shall 
 take the law into my own hands and meet your 
 lady and you on the battlements. Methinks a 
 walk in the fresh air would strengthen me. " 
 
 Not that day nor the next, nor for a week, did 
 the Count take the stroll he had planned. One 
 morning when the sun was shining brightly, 
 Lady Beatrice came upon him unexpectedly in 
 the sheltered nook where so many weeks before 
 she had found Bess talking with Jock. Her 
 surprise, her amazement and her pleasure were 
 so great that they set her heart beating wildly, 
 bringing a dewy softness to her eyes, and a 
 bright glow of color to her cheeks. The Count 
 who, all unobserved, had watched her approach, 
 thought he had never seen so stately, so glor 
 iously beautiful a woman. The sun formed a 
 nimbus around the red-gold of her hair. Her 
 face had lost some of its roundness and wore 
 a sad pensive expression in place of the merry 
 smile which his memory had treasured. There
 
 THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS 203 
 
 was a womanly grace, a tenderness, a glimpse 
 as it were into the very depths of her nature, 
 such as he had not caught before. 
 
 "You here!" she exclaimed joyfully, both 
 voice and glance unwittingly revealing the secret 
 of her heart. 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle. It s full time I was 
 stirring! Are you glad to see such a poor 
 wraith as myself?" 
 
 "Glad!" she repeated, her tone unconsciously 
 conveying a tender protest. "Do you think that 
 one of the House of Wotton could forget a 
 friend so readily? If this be your opinion, then 
 perchance you have deemed me merely an ac 
 quaintance ! But mayhap you have matters of 
 graver moment to occupy your thoughts." 
 
 The Count, though inwardly elated at the 
 fleeting glimpse of love in her beautiful eyes, 
 was still determined to hold himself in check, 
 feeling that this was not the time nor place to 
 give expression to that which was more sacred 
 to him than life itself. So he asked irrelevantly : 
 
 "When will you and the Duchess be able, 
 mademoiselle, to start for Paris?" 
 
 Stung by what she supposed his indifference, 
 Lady Beatrice replied with assumed nonchal 
 ance: 
 
 "Any time, Monsieur le Comte d Epernon, 
 that your health will permit. I have been ready 
 for at least ten days, but as it was my father s 
 wish that grandmere and I should go to Paris 
 with you as our escort, and as the Duchess de
 
 204 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Berry is in no haste to depart, what was there 
 left but to coax patience to abide with me?" 
 
 It was a full week later before the leech would 
 permit either of his patients to travel. Although 
 well near the middle of the month, for once 
 November was smiling. She had put off her 
 grey robes, her chilliness, her look of desola 
 tion, to deck herself in a gay mantle of purest 
 azure, overshot with gold. Mild as a summer 
 breeze came the spice-laden air from the forest. 
 The trees rustled their adieux in a soft minor 
 tone, and had it not been for the sad mementoes 
 of the battle, one might have thought it a 
 hideous dream. 
 
 Lady Beatrice looked very fair to the eyes 
 of the Count as, with daintily shod feet she 
 tripped lightly up the steps of the high-swinging, 
 commodious coach. The Count had offered to 
 assist her but she, with a merry backward glance 
 over her shoulder, had waved him off. The day 
 before, in speaking to the Count of this stately 
 vehicle which bore the de Berry coat-of-arms, 
 she had said mischievously that it reminded her 
 of Noah s ark, yet for the time it was a very 
 comfortable conveyance as, long before reach 
 ing Paris, she was glad to admit. The Duchess 
 sat in state on the back seat, with all the appur 
 tenances of her journey about her; but when 
 she would have made room for Lady Beatrice 
 by her side, this perverse young maiden said 
 with a smile and a gentle wave of her hand : 
 
 "No, grandmere, I am robust, strong and 
 well. Twill not hurt Bess and me to sit with
 
 THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS 205 
 
 our backs to the coachman. There are the 
 Count and Edward, just arisen as it were from 
 the dead. I think it would be well for them 
 to sit on either side of you : thus shall I be able 
 to note whether or not they grow more pale 
 and have need of a cordial or aught to keep 
 them from fainting." 
 
 In spite of every protestation, with a toss of 
 her head that even Bess in her sauciest moods 
 could never have attained, she took her seat, 
 back to the horses. 
 
 Twenty men-at-arms were to act as escort. 
 Seated in the great rumble were the Duchess s 
 two maids and footman. On the box with 
 Pierre was Monsieur Deroache, the private 
 chaplain of the Duchess. He had been pressed 
 to sit within, but preferred riding where he 
 could read his breviary undisturbed by the 
 merry chatter of Lady Beatrice. On finding 
 that he was not to occupy a seat in the coach, 
 Lady Beatrice had asked permission of the 
 Duchess to have Bess sit beside her, saying with 
 eyes moist with sympathetic tears : 
 
 "You see, grandmere, she has passed through 
 a heavy sorrow, and depends on me to keep her 
 from thinking to her hurt." 
 
 They had taken farewell of the Countess in 
 the great hall, not without emotion on the part 
 of Lady Beatrice who had insisted on the Coun 
 tess promising to visit her at Wotton. Follow 
 ing the maids and the footman, led by three 
 grooms, were Spitfire and Saladin, prancing and 
 whinnying, as though in recognition of their
 
 206 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 mistress and master. With them was the bay, 
 dear to the heart of Edward of Brentwood, and 
 the gray genet which Bess always rode. They 
 were bridled and saddled, Lady Beatrice having 
 declared that from time to time on their journey, 
 she and Bess must have at least a canter. 
 
 Crack went the whip of the coachman, and 
 the six horses under the guidance of Pierre 
 Lestrange, strained lustily at their bits. The 
 harness rattled, the leather creaked. Once more 
 Pierre snapped his whip loudly. Then with a 
 swerve and a lurch, a simultaneous quickening, 
 the cavalcade was in motion. 
 
 Wide open stood the gate. The portcullis 
 was lifted, the drawbridge fell into place, span 
 ning the moat. With a rumble and rattle, like 
 the noise of distant thunder, the great coach 
 lumbered over it. Hugh Breyonne, the gray- 
 haired seneschal, the warder of the Castle of 
 Agincourt, with his stout serving-men like 
 statues of bronze, shouted after them, "Bonne 
 fortune!" and "Bon jour!" Lady Beatrice, lean 
 ing out of the coach window, waved her hand 
 kerchief in parting salutes to the kind old 
 Frenchman who had shown her marked court 
 esy during her stay with his lady. Then, as 
 she looked her farewell at the rugged fortress, 
 its turrets and towers, its high-lifted battle 
 ments, with the sun turning to gold its portcullis 
 and softening the rough outline of the great 
 mounds of earth which covered the dead, an 
 expression of deep sadness, not unlike a dusky
 
 THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS 207 
 
 shadow, stole for the moment all the brightness 
 from her face. 
 
 The first two days of their journey were 
 uneventful. The strength of both the Count 
 and Edward de Brentwood was sorely taxed. 
 They were glad each night to retire early, even 
 though the beds at the inns were not as com 
 fortable as those at the Castle. The third morn 
 ing, after driving a short distance, Lady Bea 
 trice exclaimed: 
 
 "The day is so fine that when we have had 
 our noonday meal, Bess and I are going to take 
 a gallop." 
 
 "Do you think," asked the Count with a 
 glance in his eye which made her lids droop, 
 "that Monsieur Brentwood and I will permit 
 you to ride unescorted in such lawless times as 
 these?" 
 
 "No, Monsieur le Comte," exclaimed the 
 Duchess, with a look at her charge as much as 
 to say, Had you been brought up in France, 
 you would not be so free in your speech or 
 demeanor ; "to my mind it is unbecoming in 
 one of your rank to ride unescorted. You 
 should have a younger chaperone than I who 
 could follow your whimseys. To me it seems 
 passing strange that your father permitted you 
 to come from home without a gentlewoman in 
 attendance!" 
 
 "But, grandmere," expostulated Lady Bea 
 trice, explaining to the Duchess for the twentieth 
 time at least why she had come from Wotton 
 alone, "you know how it all came about, and
 
 208 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 would you rather I had remained in England 
 away from my father, at such a trying time as 
 I have just been through, than to have come to 
 you under the care of such faithful guardians as 
 old Simon and Bess?" 
 
 "Perchance not," replied the Duchess grudg 
 ingly. "If your mother had been living she 
 would have known what was due to your posi 
 tion. Your father should have married again, 
 and not striven to bring you up without suitable 
 instruction as to what was right and wrong for 
 the grandchild of one of the noblest houses of 
 France." 
 
 For a moment the bright color stole to the 
 very roots of Lady Beatrice s hair. Her violet 
 eyes flashed, her full dewy lips became tense 
 narrow lines, and the expression of her face 
 was full as proud and cold as that of the 
 Duchess. Then, as suddenly, all the coldness, 
 the aloofness, the pride melted away as hoar 
 frost in the rays of the sun. With a bright 
 smile, yet in tones of strong feeling, she said : 
 
 "My father has filled the place of both par 
 ents to me. None could have been more kind, 
 more tender, more loving. Yet he had a firm 
 hand neath the glove of velvet. As for me, 
 I think I should have been very unhappy had 
 he chosen to put another in my dear mother s 
 place." 
 
 The Count noticed that after luncheon Lady 
 Beatrice said no more about a gallop, and he 
 made up his mind that should the next morn 
 ing be fair he would himself venture in the
 
 THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS 209 
 
 saddle, that together they might take a short 
 canter. That evening they arrived at Les An- 
 delys. The sun had set, leaving in the west a 
 broad ribbon of dappled purple, crimson and 
 gold, while certain dark clouds to the north 
 indicated a storm tor the morrow.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 A DELAY AND A DISTURBANCE 
 
 "I prithee, now lead the way without any more talking." 
 
 The Tempest. 
 
 The inclement weather detained them for 
 three days, then once more they pushed for 
 ward, this time more slowly than before, owing 
 to the condition of the roads, which were heavy, 
 rain-soaked and full of great ruts and puddles. 
 
 Though the sun shone palely in the morning, 
 long before the middle of the afternoon, it had 
 vanished behind gray and white mottled clouds. 
 Fitful gusts of wind sifting in through every 
 crevice of the coach made them only too glad to 
 keep their wraps well about them. Twice dur 
 ing the day their conveyance became so deeply 
 imbedded in the mud that not only its six horses 
 were needed to release it, but several of those 
 belonging to the men-at-arms. 
 
 The Duchess was anxiously inquiring of the 
 Count as if he were familiar with the country 
 when, with a loud cracking sound the coach, 
 reeling and groaning like a live creature in pain, 
 pitched violently forward with such suddenness 
 that, had it not been for the presence of mind of 
 the two young men, the Duchess must have 
 received a serious injury. A few moments later, 
 before the Count or Edward could unfasten the 
 210
 
 A DELAY AND A DISTURBANCE 211 
 
 door, Pierre, the coachman, came to the window 
 which Bess had opened saying, in a tone of 
 disgust: 
 
 "Madame la Duchesse, the axle-tree is 
 broken!" 
 
 "And, prithee, what is that?" asked his mis 
 tress in her excitement and annoyance. "What 
 does it matter to me whether it is broken or not? 
 Do you think I am going to stay here all night 
 to please you or the axle-tree?" 
 
 "But, Madame," began Pierre, with an ex 
 planatory gesture, indicative of despair. 
 
 "No, do not Madame me," interrupted the 
 Duchess in a fury. "Had you not been careless, 
 surely this never would have happened. I will 
 report you to the Duke at once, on reaching 
 Paris!" 
 
 A look of alarm overspread the features of 
 the coachman, as he glanced to right and left in 
 a questioning manner, as much as to ask, "Will 
 no one try to make her understand?" 
 
 The Count spoke to the Duchess in a concilia 
 tory tone, Pierre withdrawing his head from the 
 window and standing within earshot, the better 
 to hear what might be said. 
 
 "I think, Madame la Duchesse, that the 
 blame of the accident should be laid to the road, 
 which is deep-rutted and soggy. Your coach, 
 I think, has been housed till the wood becoming 
 dry and brittle must needs feel such straining 
 and pulling as the horses have given it. To my 
 mind, it s no wonder that it broke in twain. Yet 
 I think it can be readily mended. Strive to be as
 
 212 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 patient and calm as you can under the circum 
 stances, while I see what Pierre and I can do 
 toward repairing it." 
 
 "Merci, Monsieur le Comte, you are too 
 kind! Let Pierre, who broke it, mend it," re 
 plied the Duchess irritably. 
 
 Not waiting to hear more, the Count, fol 
 lowed by Edward, together with the coachman 
 were soon examining the result of the break 
 which, to their chagrin, they found more serious 
 than they had anticipated. On the box still sat 
 Monsieur Deroache, reading his breviary as 
 calmly as though they were not stuck fast in the 
 mud with night rapidly approaching. It was a 
 desolate spot, and the Count wondered what 
 could be done. He knew that they must be at 
 least two leagues from any habitation, and if he 
 remembered rightly, three leagues from any inn. 
 Bidding one of the men cut down a small sap 
 ling and trim off its branches, the Count showed 
 the man how to brace the broken axel by lash 
 ing it firmly to the tree. An hour was consumed 
 at this labor, and brooding night with sable out 
 spread wings, was already hovering over the 
 earth before they were able to resume their 
 journey. 
 
 From the moment the Count had left the 
 coach, the Duchess had not spoken. As for 
 Lady Beatrice and Bess, they scarcely dared to 
 breathe, lest it should call forth from the 
 Duchess a reprimand. They proceeded with 
 their journey slowly. The coach rumbled on, its
 
 A DELAY AND A DISTURBANCE 213 
 
 discordant creakings and groanings effectually 
 preventing all conversation. 
 
 Not a star appeared in the heavens, nor a 
 trace of the moon. Nothing pierced the darkness 
 but the fitful gleams of the lanterns borne by the 
 men, and the dim lamps of the carriage. Lady 
 Beatrice and the Duches dozed, as also did 
 Bess. At some unusual sound, they would start 
 from their uneasy slumber, awakening for a 
 moment to the consciousness of their surround 
 ings, to lose once again all sense of discomfort 
 in sleepland. 
 
 It was almost midnight. Wearied, stiffened 
 with cold, with aching bones, they stopped at 
 a small inn, thankful for shelter from the biting 
 winds. After a night s rest at this little hamlet 
 where they were fortunate enough to get their 
 carriage repaired, they decided not to push on 
 until the next morning. It was late in the day 
 and the sky threatened rain. 
 
 The Duchess and Lady Beatrice had hardly 
 retired to rest when a loud hammering on the 
 outer door aroused them. As the knocking 
 continued, mingled with men s voices, coarse 
 oaths, the snorting of horses and clatter of har 
 ness, they wondered what it could all mean. 
 Clearly ringing above other voices came that of 
 the one in command, as he shouted with a ter 
 rible oath : 
 
 "Ho ye! varlets, ope wide this door ere I 
 split it! Open, rascals! Think you to keep 
 your betters waiting while you are tucked snug 
 in bed?"
 
 214 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Bess, who had come in from the little room 
 adjoining that of her mistress, crept to Lady 
 Beatrice s side, saying in a low frightened tone : 
 
 "Hear you the clamor? Do you know that 
 voice? Methinks I heard it the day or the 
 battle!" 
 
 "Why lass !" exclaimed her mistress as, catch 
 ing her by the arm, she raised herself to a sitting 
 posture, "you are trembling, shaking like an 
 aspen leaf! Go dress yourself, or you will take 
 cold." 
 
 Seeing that Bess was too terrified to heed, 
 Lady Beatrice exclaimed imperatively: 
 
 "Go at once ! Put on your warmest clothing. 
 Then return and help me. Who knows what 
 may happen." 
 
 In the meantime, while her handmaiden in 
 the adjoining room was hurrying to dress, Lady 
 Beatrice, springing lightly to the floor, began 
 searching for stockings and shoes, and by the 
 time Bess had returned she, too, was ready for 
 whatever might occur. 
 
 One of the Duchess maids, rapping at the 
 door, exclaimed in a smothered voice : 
 
 "My lady bids you haste to her chamber 
 bringing with you your jewels and your maid." 
 
 Not waiting for an answer, she scurried 
 away. 
 
 Shortly afterward, Lady Beatrice and Bess, 
 while hastening down the hall in response to the 
 Duchess summons, came face to face with the 
 Count. Bess, who was a little in advance of her 
 mistress, candle in hand, without realizing what
 
 A DELAY AND A DISTURBANCE 215 
 
 she was doing caught hold of his sleeve, exclaim 
 ing excitedly: 
 
 "Do not leave us! See! my lady and I are 
 going to the Duchess chamber. Come too, and 
 protect us!" 
 
 Lady Beatrice, in spite of the unreasonable 
 hour, the din below stairs and the gruff voices 
 of men, said chidingly to Bess : 
 
 "What are you about, girl? Have your wits 
 gone astray?" 
 
 Turning to the Count, with a frank smile, she 
 said: 
 
 "You must not heed her, Monsieur. Since 
 that terrible day her nerves have been dis 
 traught. But where were you going? Surely 
 not alone to the kitchen !" 
 
 "And why not alone, Mademoiselle? Do you 
 think I fear to meet dangers single-handed? Or 
 that because I have been a prisoner twice, I am 
 a coward!" 
 
 "No, no !" exclaimed Lady Beatrice in tones 
 of distress. "Who could look at you and think 
 that? Surely not I! Yet is it wise or prudent 
 to court evil? But you are a man, and no doubt 
 know better than a maid, the need for prompt 
 action." 
 
 Just then Edward, fully armed as was the 
 Count, joined them, saying in a half suppressed 
 whisper, yet with a gleam of amusement twink 
 ling in his eyes: 
 
 "I trust, M le Comte, I have not disturbed 
 you and my fair cousin in any wise plans for the 
 future " He paused till the color mounted
 
 216 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 high in her cheeks before continuing "As to 
 the manner of dealing with the ruffianly crew, 
 whose blasphemous oaths and foul-mouthed 
 conversation would denote that they had drunk 
 too freely at their last stopping-place. You feel 
 no fear, Lady Beatrice?" he asked teasingly. 
 
 "No, Edward. You are too free in your 
 speech. Methinks it were well that Bess and I 
 should join the Duchess. Au revoir, M. le 
 Comte; and Edward, if you should need any 
 assistance, fail not to call on Lady Beatrice of 
 Wotton!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE 
 
 "The time now serves not to expostulate." 
 The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 "If I mistake not, Monsieur Brentwood," 
 said the Count, as together they listened intently 
 at the head of the stairs, "that loud-mouthed 
 person whom you hear reviling his men, is a 
 renegade Englishman. His followers are the 
 scum of Paris. He is Captain Bertonner, with 
 Spanish blood in his veins, as reckless, as re 
 vengeful and as cruel as Nero himself. I chance 
 to know that early last spring the Due de Berry 
 had his lieutenant hanged and five of his men. 
 He threatened to put the captain to the question 
 should he be found either within the walls of 
 Paris or the Province of Berry. 
 
 "Doubtless this would have been his fate had 
 not the Due d Orleans interceded in his behalf. 
 The Duke, it is said, has more than once 
 employed this same scoundrel to carry out his 
 despicable designs when in need of such a tool. 
 The night before the battle, Due Charles and 
 Bertonner were conversing together, and as I 
 was strolling near I could not help overhearing 
 in part what was said. If I mistake not, his 
 coming here is no mere accident, but a scheme 
 
 217
 
 218 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 for revenge. Mayhap it were better that I 
 should not speak of aught else I suspect." 
 
 "Surely," replied young Edward apprehen 
 sively, "you do not dream they have designs 
 against my fair cousin?" 
 
 "I know not. Yet one cannot answer for 
 Charles d Orleans. Like father, like son! But 
 this is treason. It is not often I permit my 
 tongue such freedom of speech. Hear you that? 
 But why tarry! It is better that a Frenchman 
 go for our men while you stay here to give the 
 alarm in case Bertonner attempts the stairs." 
 
 "But, Monsieur le Comte!" exclaimed Ed 
 ward excitedly, "how can you reach them with 
 out thrusting your head into danger? If aught 
 should happen to you, what would fair Beatrice 
 say?" 
 
 A dusky flush mounted to the Count s cheek: 
 a brilliant smile shone in his eyes, as looking 
 back from the stairs which he had already begun 
 to descend, he said in a half suppressed 
 whisper : 
 
 "She need not fear. Your strong arm and 
 quick wit would surely beat off thrice as many 
 as yourself, if need be." 
 
 Then continuing downward with swift foot 
 steps light as a panther s, the Count, watching 
 his opportunity, slipped out of the door unseen 
 by captain or men. As Edward stood waiting, 
 well hid by the darkness, he felt a light touch 
 on his arm. With a sudden start he exclaimed 
 in astonishment: 
 
 "What! you here, Beatrice?"
 
 A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE 219 
 
 "Yes, Edward: speak not so loud. I came to 
 enquire the cause of all this hubbub. Do you 
 think there is danger?" 
 
 Stealthily creeping behind her, so quietly that 
 not the least sound was heard by the cousins, 
 came Captain Bertonner. Edward was about 
 to reply to her question. When he and Lady 
 Beatrice became aware that they were not alone, 
 a thick cloak was tossed over her head, a hand 
 pressed to her mouth and an arm thrown 
 around her waist. Before Edward of Brent- 
 wood realized the situation, a mocking laugh 
 rang in his ears and a taunting voice said: 
 
 "Take care of yourself, brave Sir. You are 
 a doughty guardian for fair damsels." 
 
 Almost as mysteriously as he had come the 
 miscreant, bearing the muffled form of Lady 
 Beatrice, vanished! 
 
 Silently hurrying hither and thither, blindly 
 rushing, wildly searching, Edward, torn by 
 despair, vainly strove to find his cousin. He 
 flung wide open the door of his room at the 
 end of the landing, grasped a lighted candle 
 and hastened back into the hall. Although every 
 part of the winding corridor underwent his eager 
 scrutiny, he could discover no trace of how or 
 where they had disappeared. While thus 
 engaged, he heard the sound of horses feet, and 
 thought, "Here comes the Count. What will 
 he say?" 
 
 Deeming it best to make no outcry that would 
 alarm the Duchess or Bess, he felt of the walls, 
 the floor, everywhere, in fact, that might hold a
 
 220 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 secret panel through which they have passed. It 
 was thus the Count found him when, silently 
 creeping up the stairs, wondering at the flicker 
 ing candle-light, he saw him down on all fours, 
 feeling with nervous fingers every crack and 
 cranny. A terrible foreboding came to the 
 Count. His throat contracted, his heart seemed 
 to stop beating, the blood surged and throbbed 
 in his brain, dark spots floated before his eyes. 
 Rallying with a mighty effort and catching the 
 shoulder of the Englishman in a vise-like grip, 
 he asked in a tense voice : 
 
 "What is the matter, Monsieur Edward? 
 What are you seeking?" 
 
 Springing to his feet, with a face livid and 
 drawn, eyes filled with alarm, limbs trembling 
 beneath him, Edward of Brentwood related in 
 faltering accents what had transpired. 
 
 "Quick, man quick!" cried the Count. "Bon 
 Dieu! now I see the object understand the 
 meaning of that which I overheard. Haste ! 
 haste ! Get your spurs, cloak, hat. Have you 
 heard sounds of departure since I left. 
 
 Then like a hideous revelation, an echo in 
 his brain, came the tramp of horses feet. Half 
 maddened, Edward answered: 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Comte, but I took them 
 for you and your men." 
 
 "We have not had time to saddle. T was 
 that villain, Bertonner, who has made good his 
 escape. Mon Dieu! he has more strongholds, 
 more hiding-places, it is said, than one can count. 
 Tell the Duchess I will leave the men-at-arms
 
 A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE 221 
 
 as escort for her and Bess. With the rest I will 
 scour the country. Now that they have accom 
 plished that for which they came, hark ! they are 
 all departing. I will not follow them. No doubt 
 they have directions to cover up the scent. 
 Haste, haste ! man, haste ! Tell the Earl of 
 Wotton that as sure as the good God liveth, he 
 shall never see the Comte Raoul d Epernon 
 again except he return his daughter, as pure and 
 undefiled as when she was a babe in her moth 
 er s arms!" 
 
 "But," expostulated Edward, "surely you 
 would not leave me to travel tamely to Paris 
 while you are searching for her who is my 
 cousin? Do you think I can go to her father, 
 telling him that it was my stupidity, my careless 
 ness, which brought her to this pass?" 
 
 "Do you know France?" asked the Count 
 with some asperity. "Do you know the lairs to 
 which this wild beast may take Lady Beatrice? 
 Was it you to whom her father entrusted her, or 
 to me who one day, grace a Dieuf will be her 
 husband. Would you have the Duchess return 
 escorted only by the priest, the lackeys and the 
 men-at-arms? I go to search for my lady 
 whether you do your duty or no !" 
 
 Noting the look of dejection, of misery, of 
 despair, in the eyes of his companion, the Count 
 said with more kindliness: 
 
 "I feel for you, lad, and I do not think you 
 either stupid or careless. Bertonner is a cun 
 ning fox and doubtless had it been me instead 
 of you, the result would have been the same.
 
 222 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 But I must to horse ! Take my adieux to the 
 Duchess and do your duty like a man. Tell the 
 Earl I shall bring his daughter safely back to 
 him. Bid him inquire daily at the house of 
 Juvenal des Ursins, the King s Advocate-Gen 
 eral. It is there I will report. But stay can 
 you fetch from your cousin s chamber, without 
 disturbing Bess or the Duchess, some warm 
 outer garment of which she may have need? I 
 hear my men approaching. Meet me at the side 
 entrance with whatever you can find!" 
 
 Not waiting for a reply, the Count entered 
 his room. Quickly catching up what he wished 
 for the journey, he sped swiftly down the stairs 
 to his waiting men. As he passed the Duchess 
 door, Bess put out her head, crying shrilly: 
 
 "Sir Count, Sir Count, where is my lady?" 
 Leaving the question to be answered by 
 Edward, he hastened on. He was already 
 mounted when the young man joined him. His 
 orders had been so tersely and clearly given 
 that every man knew what to expect on the 
 perilous journey they were about to undertake. 
 Reaching down for the package which was 
 silently handed him by the Earl s young squire, 
 the Count said encouragingly: 
 
 "Take heart, man, take heart! If you carry 
 that rueful countenance into the presence of the 
 Duchess and Bess, you will regret it. Since 
 leaving you, I have recalled the conversation 
 which I overheard at the camp. It is a clue that 
 will doubtless lead me straight to the hiding
 
 A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE 223 
 
 place of Lady Beatrice. If so, no harm will 
 befall her. But I must away!" 
 
 With reluctant feet, Edward of Brentwood 
 returned to the inn. Slowly he climbed the 
 stairs. Before he could pass the Duchess door, 
 Bess threw it wide, crying excitedly: 
 
 "Where is my lady? Where is Lady Beat 
 rice? Oh, it is you. Can you tell me where 
 she has flown?" 
 
 "Entrez done, Monsieur Brentwood," broke 
 in the Duchess aggressively. "Can you inform 
 me as to the cause of all this commotion, this 
 disturbance? This upsetting of my slumber? 
 One would think that all the canaille of Paris 
 were below stairs!" 
 
 "Yes, a part, Madame la Duchesse, at least, 
 did knock at the door for admittance, under a 
 Captain Bertonner." 
 
 "Captain Bertonner!" half screamed the 
 Duchess, her eyes growing brilliant with anger, 
 "That wretch ! that villain ! that monster ! What 
 evil egg is he hatching now?" 
 
 "Oh, where is my lady?" interrupted Bess, 
 unheeding the great lady s frown. 
 
 "Tush, girl!" cried the Duchess. "Did you 
 not know your betters were talking? Have you 
 no manners ? I have often said to your mistress 
 that she should teach you a lesson as to what 
 was due Lady Beatrice of Wotton!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 ON THE TRAIL 
 
 "Where art thou now?" 
 
 A Midsummer Night s Dream. 
 "I followed fast, but faster he did fly." 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 When the Duchess heard of the abduction of 
 Lady Beatrice, her rage knew no bounds. She 
 fretted, fumed and stormed, venting her temper 
 without stint on both Edward and Bess. In 
 vain he endeavored to explain, even repeating 
 in his defence what the Count had said to him. 
 But nothing stayed her torrent of words until, 
 from lack of breath, the flood-gates closed. 
 Then Edward explained that ten men-at-arms 
 had been left as her escort to Paris: that the 
 Count had thought it best for him to go with 
 her that he might relate the whole occurrence 
 to his uncle, the Earl. 
 
 Once again the turbulent flood of her wrath 
 poured forth, this time with no restraint. 
 
 "Fentrebleu! this is high-handed business on 
 the part of Comte Raoul d Epernon. It is plain 
 that he presumed on my being a woman ! To 
 think of his taking my men as coolly, as boldly, 
 and without my advice, as though I were naught 
 but a bourgeoise ! What intends this masterful 
 seeker of dames? Did he explain to you his 
 plans? Where he was going? What he over 
 heard? Or did you let him go forth telling you 
 224
 
 ON THE TRAIL 225 
 
 only that which he listed? I see by your face I 
 am right in my suspicions. You do not know 
 where he has gone or what he is doing! All 
 you learned, it seems to me, has been that, since 
 you could not look after your cousin, you would 
 do for the Duchess de Berry I" 
 
 "But, madame," expostulted Edward, his 
 face red from the tongue-thrashing he had re 
 ceived, "if you would prefer to dispense with 
 my company, I have my good horse and can 
 push forward to Paris in advance of your coach. 
 Perchance that would be better. Then should 
 I see my uncle, and who knows what day will 
 bring good news regarding my cousin to the 
 house of Juvenal des Ursins?" 
 
 "Not so fast, young man, not so fast!" 
 exclaimed the Duchess irascibly. "Peradven- 
 ture you would prefer to ride off alone, leaving 
 me with no one in charge. Methinks, consid 
 ering the mistake you have made, it might be 
 more becoming in you were you less top-lofty. 
 Remember to whom you are speaking ! Do you 
 think the Duchess de Berry needs no consider 
 ation? As for your cousin, perchance you for 
 get that she is a granddaughter of mine ! Has 
 she not been in my charge since early Septem 
 ber? And are you so obtuse that you cannot 
 see that even the dry cockles of my heart have 
 been warmed by the sunshine of her presence? 
 Girl, get .my drops ! All this excitement, this 
 worry, this anxiety, is bringing on that trem 
 bling of my heart. As for you, Edward of 
 Brentwood, be you ready. When the sun once
 
 226 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 more arises, I again set out on my journey. Bon 
 soir, and do not forget that old age has demands 
 on youth. Had you lived to my years, you 
 would know that a tree which is nigh unto 
 falling, crackles and groans more loudly when 
 buffeted by the wind, than a green sapling, which 
 bendeth to the gale." 
 
 * * * 
 
 We must now follow the Count. Through 
 the long night, with the stars gleaming above 
 him, he took the main road for Paris. The way 
 was rough and just before dawn the wind grew 
 biting, penetrating and persistent, yet he slack 
 ened not his pace, but rode like one who is sure 
 of that which he seeks. Once, thinking that he 
 heard hoof-beats in the dictance, he gave a 
 sharp command to halt and drew rein, straining 
 every nerve to listen. Naught fell on his ear 
 but the harsh insistent call of some night-bird 
 to its mate and the lashing of leafless branches 
 which, like spectral arms, reached out in every 
 direction. With a beckoning motion to his men 
 and a word to Saladin, he rode onward. On 
 the brow of a hill his ears once more caught 
 what seemed the thud of horses feet. Checking 
 Saladin, he again halted his men: again he 
 listened and this time, like an echo came sounds 
 which told him that ahead, in the shadows, were 
 those who were riding as rapidly, as persistently 
 and as determinedly as he and his men-at-arms. 
 
 "Quick!" cried the Count in an exultant tone. 
 "Hasten! If I mistake not, Captain Bertonner 
 is but a short league away. Spare not the spurs !
 
 ON THE TRAIL 227 
 
 You must bestride swift horses to keep up with 
 Saladin!" 
 
 Without a backward look to see if his men 
 were close at his heels, he dashed madly for 
 ward, the thought uppermost in his mind, 
 "Ahead is Lady Beatrice!" At breakneck 
 speed they descended the hill and without draw 
 ing rein tore through the valley below as though 
 under the leadership of the famous wild hunts 
 man. Coming to a steep ascent, Saladin, light 
 as a bird, with nostrils dilated, taking long deep 
 breaths, every nerve at its utmost tension, 
 stayed not his speed. The horses of the men- 
 -at-arms, panting, perspiring, trembling with 
 their unusual efforts refused, in spite of oath 
 and spur, to go faster than a walk up the long 
 hill. Thus they were left far behind. The 
 Count pressed Saladin to his utmost, all unmind 
 ful that he alone was nearing the group of 
 horsemen whom he could not dimly see capping 
 the next hill. 
 
 His noble horse, foam-flecked, with power 
 ful strides, entered into the spirit of his master. 
 Actuated by the dominant will of the Count, he 
 raced up hill and down, encouraged by many a 
 kind word, undaunted, prodigal of his strength, 
 willing, yes, more than willing to die, if need 
 be, in his master s service. 
 
 It was not till these mocking words, "A votre 
 sante, Monsieur le Comte!" were flung at him 
 by the leader of the band, that the Count took 
 in the situation and realized that he, single-
 
 228 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 handed, one against twenty or more, hoped to 
 rescue Lady Beatrice. He was not near enough 
 to see whether this vile wretch still held her in 
 his keeping. In spite of the danger which he 
 was courting, he dashed forward, swiftly pass 
 ing the men who had received no order to 
 molest him, and came abreast of their leader. 
 Imagine his consternation, his chagrin and the 
 doubts that assailed him, when he saw that the 
 man he had taken for the Captain was only one 
 of his minions, and that Lady Beatrice was not 
 of the party. 
 
 u Haw, haw, haw!" shrieked the ruffian, in 
 loud coarse laughter. "Haw, haw, haw! Are 
 you looking for a bird that has flown, Monsieur 
 le Comte? Did you think to find her with me? 
 You should have known my Captain better. All 
 the tit-bits he keeps for himself!" 
 
 The Count knew it was worse than useless to 
 resent this language, so he asked suavely while 
 smothering his anger : 
 
 "Has he ridden ahead to Paris, or to 
 Orleans?" 
 
 "Sacre noun de Dieuf If you are not a sharp 
 one," answered the man between bursts of 
 laughter. "You have hit one nail on the head 
 if you have n t another." 
 
 The Count, who had been thinking quickly, 
 made up his mind to try if gold would not un 
 lock the lips of this rascal. Glancing back to 
 see that the scum riding behind them were not 
 too near, he asked in a low tone :
 
 ON THE TRAIL 229 
 
 "What are your orders about me, or have 
 you none? Methinks you would scarcely have 
 let me draw alongside had your Captain not sur 
 mised I might take this way in pursuit." 
 
 "Haw, haw haw ! another nail drove home I 
 You should have been a lawyer," chuckled the 
 man. "But suppose he did, and suppose I was 
 told to let you ride to Paris if you would, with 
 out let or hindrance, what would you say to 
 that?" 
 
 "That you are a cunning knave I Do you 
 think to put me off with chaff? You know as 
 well as I where he is : for once, revenge and his 
 master mind run in the same groove. Per 
 chance you are not so rich but that the finger 
 ing of some good yellow gold, all your own, 
 would not displease you? It is not every day 
 that a dozen words or more will bring ten louis 
 d ors!" 
 
 "No, Sir Count, do not tempt me : I have an 
 itching palm!" 
 
 "Tempt you, man!" repeated the Count, in a 
 scornful yet low voice. "What I ask you to 
 tell is not worth gold; yet, as it might save me 
 trouble in searching out the place that I am 
 going to, you would be welcome to the louis 
 d ors if you would tell me the shortest way to 
 L Escalier du Diable." 
 
 "Sacre nom de Dieu!" exclaimed the ruffian, 
 "you are a wizard! Else how knew you that 
 the Captain was taking la belle demoiselle to 
 Marie Verte, the veriest hag of Satan!"
 
 230 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "I use not the black art, yet have I powers," 
 answered the Count ambiguously, a smile play 
 ing beneath his low drooping mustache, "which, 
 perchance, are not as strong as I might wish. 
 For instance, I know but one way to reach this 
 Captain of yours. If you could point me out 
 another, so I might see Lady Beatrice when he 
 were not there, I might make it worth your 
 while, without his being one whit the wiser." 
 
 "Do you know what that would mean to 
 me?" asked the man, all laughter gone from his 
 face. "If he should find out that I had whis 
 pered a word of his comings or goings, it were 
 better that I lay dead at the bottom of the 
 Seine! Yet if I thought I could tell you and 
 he never know, I would give your gold to my 
 little Nanon; she is a cripple, and I would do 
 much for her sake!" 
 
 The Count, who had been watching with the 
 greatest intentness every change in his face, now 
 said impulsively, putting his hand into his 
 doublet : 
 
 "Take this for your child! I give it not to 
 purchase your master s secret, but that you may 
 be able to do a father s part, without selling 
 your soul I" 
 
 As though the pent-up emotion of years had 
 broken its bounds, great tears coursed down the 
 man s cheeks. As he felt the size and weight of 
 the purse which the Count had pressed into his 
 hand, he exclaimed, as he hid it close to his 
 heart:
 
 ON THE TRAIL 231 
 
 "Merti, my lord! You are too kind. 
 Whether you give me this for my secret or no, I 
 will tell you all I can, and what is more, will help 
 you not only to see, but to save, your English 
 demoiselle."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 TIDINGS OF HOPE 
 
 "He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the 
 staple of his argument." 
 
 Love s Labor Lost. 
 
 "Affliction may one day smile again ; and till then, sit thee 
 down, Sorrow!" 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 The Duchess de Berry carried out her plan 
 of resuming her journey the next morning. Bess 
 cried the greater part of the night and bore a 
 very heavy heart through the long hours of the 
 raw November day. 
 
 To the Duchess and Edward, as Pierre at 
 last drew up his six horses at a small hostelry 
 for the night, it seemed as though the time had 
 been interminable. Had they known that the 
 Count, by every short cut of which he knew 
 many, was pushing on like themselves to Paris, 
 the days that followed would not have seemed 
 so endless. Except for the sameness, the weari 
 ness, the dreariness and the tediousness of the 
 time, nothing marked the remainder of their 
 journey with any event worth mentioning. All 
 felt in a measure relieved from tension and 
 strain when they at last arrived at Paris. The 
 Duchess and Bess went straight to the Count, 
 while Edward hastened to break the sad news 
 to his uncle. 
 232
 
 TIDINGS OF HOPE 233 
 
 Edward found the Earl the centre of a bril 
 liant circle, the only Englishman, with wit as 
 keen and mind as alert as the most talented of 
 those who made up the coterie about him. 
 
 "Ah, Edward, is it you!" the Earl exclaimed 
 cordially. "Why, man, what have you been 
 doing? Surely the leech who cared for you at 
 Agincourt could have known but little, or he 
 would not have trusted you, in your state of 
 health, to take so long a journey!" 
 
 "No, my lord, it is not my wound. Could 
 you walk with me apart? I have sad news to 
 tell you." 
 
 "Yes, Edward, if my friends will excuse me. 
 How is your cousin? I trust both she and the 
 Duchess are well." 
 
 Edward, who had been dreading this ques 
 tion, hastened down the long room to a bow 
 window, saying in a half inaudible voice: 
 
 "Prithee, my lord, come this way where we 
 can talk unheard. I have much to tell, which, 
 if I am not mistaken, you would prefer none 
 other should hear." 
 
 As they stepped into the deep embrasure of 
 the window the Earl, little dreaming of the 
 sorrow in store for him, yet feeling some alarm 
 at the tone and glance which had accompanied 
 Edward s words, said reassuringly: 
 
 "Out with it, my lad! If the cup be bitter 
 that I have to drink, it were better at once to 
 quaff it to the dregs, than to dread I know not 
 what."
 
 234 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "But, sir," cried poor Edward, "if you knew 
 what I have to tell, you would realize my suffer 
 ings. It is not easy to speak of that wherein 
 one knows he has been weak, or lacking in that 
 good sense which reason tells him he once pos 
 sessed. Perchance it were better I came to the 
 point without more words. Lady Beatrice has 
 been abducted!" 
 
 Unprepared as he was, the Earl looked at 
 him half dazed, benumbed by the suddenness 
 with which Edward, after all his circumlocution, 
 had at last blurted out the frightful news. 
 
 "Lady Beatrice! my daughter! abducted!" 
 exclaimed the Earl. "Are you mad, Edward? 
 What are you telling me ? Gather together your 
 wits and explain your strange words ! But stay, 
 man, I see by your face you have told me the 
 truth. Who did such a dastardly deed? What 
 the object? When was it? Where was it? 
 Tell me at once!" 
 
 "That is what I will try to do, sir," replied 
 Edward, realizing how abrupt he had been. 
 
 "It was in this way. We had broken down 
 that is, the coach. The axle-tree, the Count 
 thought, was over-dry by long standing. The 
 roads were heavy, thick with mud, and the 
 horses strained. The breaking of the axle 
 detained us, though the Count and Pierre, the 
 coachman, mended it well with a sapling " 
 
 "But, man, what are you talking about?" 
 exclaimed the Earl, impatience, anxiety and fear 
 for his daughter apparent in his expression and 
 words.
 
 TIDINGS OF HOPE 235 
 
 "You see, uncle," explained Edward, floun 
 dering on, "the breaking down of the coach was 
 what detained us, and when we reached the inn 
 it was late. In the morning we were fortunate 
 in getting the great ark repaired. The Duchess 
 thought it better to wait until the next day 
 before starting again on our journey. This we 
 did: but the roads were bad and we traveled 
 slowly. Lady Beatrice was as merry and full 
 of quips and sallies as I ever saw her!" 
 
 "But what has all this to do with her abduc 
 tion? Come to that, Edward. Come to the 
 point at once ! Can you not see how torn I am 
 by fear and distress? Why did I leave her 
 without Simon to protect her? But push on, 
 man, push on ! Tell me the time, the place, and 
 who was the villain! Come to the matter at 
 once without more delay." 
 
 "Can you not understand that s just what I 
 am doing?" replied Edward. "Let me see, 
 where was I? Oh, yes, now I have it! We 
 stopped that night at a small inn and had scarce 
 gone to bed when there came a loud hammer 
 ing at the door. I think it must have awakened 
 Lady Beatrice and Bess. I know it did me." 
 
 "Then it was not the Count!" cried the Earl 
 excitedly. "I thought I could not have been so 
 mistaken in the man. God, I am relieved!" 
 
 "The Count? What are you thinking of, 
 uncle? Did I not say there was a loud hammer 
 ing at the door? Then came the sound of 
 harsh voices : of horses and men, rough, coarse
 
 236 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 rascals and above all the rest, a voice which the 
 Count told me was that of Captain Bertonner. 
 
 "Now comes the hard part of my story. We, 
 that is the Count and I, met Lady Beatrice and 
 Bess in the corridor. They were on their way 
 to the Duchess. I think she had sent for them. 
 After talking for a moment, the Count and I 
 went to the head of the stairs, there to listen, 
 while Lady Beatrice and Bess kept on their way. 
 At last, as I stood there all alone the Count 
 had gone to hunt up our men I felt a light 
 touch on my arm. I startled, for I had no 
 thought of Lady Beatrice coming to me at such 
 a time : but she it was ! She was asking me 
 about the noise below stairs when, without warn 
 ing, without a sound, there came a swish in the 
 air, a half muffled cry, and before I realized, in 
 the darkness, what had happened, Captain Ber 
 tonner, taking my cousin in his arms, vanished, 
 flinging back these words. "Take care of your 
 self, brave sir: you are a doughty guardian for 
 fair damsels! 
 
 "Imagine my feelings ! I dared not cry out 
 lest the whole pack should be upon us. Then 
 there were the Duchess de Berry and Bess to 
 think of. 
 
 "I felt of every door, of the walls ! I rushed 
 to my chamber and got my candle, which was 
 lighted, and examined the wainscotting and 
 floor, hoping to find some secret panel. This I 
 was doing when the Count appeared, surprised 
 at seeing me on all fours. It was the Count that 
 decided I was to accompany the Duchess, to
 
 TIDINGS OF HOPE 237 
 
 relate to you this story, while he, with ten men- 
 at-arms, hastened off in less time than it has 
 taken me to tell it, saying, as he bade me good 
 bye, Tell the Earl that he will never see Comte 
 Raoul d Epernon again except he can return to 
 him his daughter as pure and undefiled as when 
 she was a babe in her mother s arms ! He also 
 told me to tell you to go every day to the home 
 of Juvenal des Ursins. It would be there that 
 you would hear news of Lady Beatrice. 
 had good hope that he could track this rascal, 
 this villain, this abductor of maids, to his lair. 
 That is what I think he called it. It is so hard 
 to understand these Frenchmen when they are 
 excited ! I cannot blame you if you feel angered 
 with me, yet I cannot see how I was in fault. 
 I would have gladly gone myself in search of 
 Lady Beatrice, had the Count permitted." 
 
 The Earl, who had seen that there was no 
 use in trying to hurry Edward in the telling of 
 his tale, had waited with what patience he could, 
 but now said in a tone of inquiry, freighted with 
 sadness : 
 
 "Did you say at Juvenal des Ursins? I saw 
 him but an hour ago, and if there had been news 
 he surely would have told me! Now I will 
 leave you. Go to my quarters and rest, for you 
 look as if you were in need of rest. I will make 
 haste to the house of the Advocate-General. 
 He might give me advice as to what is best to 
 be done." 
 
 Hastening down the stairs to the outer door, 
 the Earl called a lackey to bring him his horse.
 
 238 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Mounting, he hurried away, outwardly calm, 
 inwardly a prey to a tempest of fears. Arriving 
 at the house of Juvenal des Ursins, he was 
 ushered into his presence. So excited was he 
 that he did not catch the swish of a silk gown, 
 the tap of high heels, nor the quick fall of the 
 tapestry which hid Madame Moreau from his 
 sight. Without any excuse for the uncere 
 monious manner in which he had entered the 
 room, the Earl of Wotton, usually so punc 
 tilious as to the little amenities of life, exclaimed 
 brusquely : 
 
 "Sir, I am in great trouble ! Have you heard 
 news of my daughter? Perchance it may be 
 too soon to expect it. 1 have come for your 
 advice, trusting you would be able to help me." 
 
 "Sit down, my lord!" cried Juvenal des 
 Ursins heartily, perceiving at once by the Earl s 
 distraught manner and the vertical lines between 
 his eyes, his state of mind. "Sit down and tell 
 me all about it. Heard from your daughter? 
 No, how should I? But if I can give you any 
 advice, I shall deem it a pleasure, a duty to 
 friendship. Make yourself comfortable. Take 
 this glass of wine ! To me it is ever in the hour 
 of trouble, a quickener of faith in the bon 
 Dieuf" 
 
 Mechanically the Earl took the glass and 
 drank off its contents. Without more ado, he 
 explained the cause of his distress. While tell 
 ing Juvenal des Ursins the story told him by 
 Edward, there came loud rapping at the outer 
 door, followed by hurried footsteps down the
 
 TIDINGS OF HOPE 239 
 
 hall, and without waiting to be announced, 
 Comte Raoul d Epernon rushed into the room. 
 
 "Grace a Dieuf" cried he. "Take courage, 
 my lord. I have found their lair and to-night 
 shall have speech with Lady Beatrice yes, 
 more than that, for with your assistance and 
 that of our good friend, Juvenal des Ursins, I 
 trust without noise or scandal, to rescue her 
 from the clutches of the Due d Orleans !" 
 
 "The Due d Orleans!" exclaimed the Earl 
 and the Advocate-General simultaneously. "The 
 Due d Orleans!" 
 
 "Are you not mistaken?" asked Juvenal des 
 Ursins. 
 
 "For the honor of France, I wish that I 
 were!" exclaimed the Count angrily, his brows 
 knit, his eyes flashing. "But truth compels me 
 to own that he, to whom we should look for a 
 better example, is too like his father and never 
 more happy than when he has a finger in that 
 which is evil. But we must not tarry here. 
 Every moment is precious ! Are you well armed ? 
 Overwhelmed by the good tidings that his 
 daughter was found, the Earl had remained 
 silent. But now, awakened to hope by the cer 
 tainty that she was near, he bestirred himself. 
 
 "Yes, Sir Count," said he, "armed and 
 ready!" 
 
 Then, as if suddenly conscious that he had 
 failed in politeness, he reached out his hand in 
 true English fashion, exclaiming in tones of 
 deep feeling:
 
 240 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Rescue my daughter, Sir Count, and she 
 shall be yours ! It were well that she should be 
 in safe keeping in the care of a man who can 
 protect her." 
 
 "Wait, my friends," cried Juvenal des Ursins, 
 "wait but a moment and I will be with you. Do 
 not go without me !" 
 
 The Advocate-General, hastening from the 
 room by way of the heavy tapestry which had 
 fallen into place on the Earl s arrival, said in a 
 low whisper to Madame Moreau who was 
 standing there, unavoidably hearing: 
 
 " T will scarcely be safe for you, mon amie, 
 to remain here till my return. It is better for 
 you to retire to the secret chamber. There you 
 are safe ! You know now how to open both 
 doors in case of need, but forbear to do so, 
 unless you hear the signal agreed on." 
 
 "On your return you will let me know about 
 Lady Beatrice? You remember, I have met the 
 Earl." 
 
 Juvenal des Ursins, who was quick to note 
 every change of expression, had long before this 
 shrewdly guessed the feelings that Madame 
 Moreau entertained for this self-same Earl. He 
 therefore replied smilingly, yet with earnestness : 
 
 "You can depend on my remembering!"
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED WARNING AND A PROFFER 
 OF PROTECTION 
 
 "But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee?" 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 "Is she not passing fair?" 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 Madame Moreau had not fully recovered 
 from the strain of her enforced incarceration in 
 the "Queen s Cabinet." She was looking more 
 fragile, more pale than was her wont. This 
 very pallor gave to her face a spirituality that 
 it had not worn at The Silver Moon. No one, 
 except the kind wife of Juvenal des Ursins and 
 that lady s confidential maid, was aware of 
 Madame Moreau s presence in the house. Their 
 care of her and Annette had been unremitting 
 since that terrible morning when, returning, in 
 such haste from the Duke of Burgundy, the 
 Advocate-General had found them at death s 
 door. The keener intuition of Madame 
 Moreau, her knowledge that from within 
 cometh all strength, had lifted her above the 
 mere material plane to where she was able to 
 endure the nights without sleep, the long tedious 
 hours without food, with less physical exhaus 
 tion than Annette, with all her robust health. 
 
 To have seen them, as they entered the oak- 
 wainscotted room on the night of their flight 
 
 241
 
 242 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 from Monsieur Moreau, one would have said 
 that Madame Moreau would have succumbed 
 to hardship or suffering long before the peasant 
 maid, Annette. 
 
 With a sharp rat-tat, twice repeated on the 
 door, followed by a single low rap which was 
 quickly answered by Jean, Madame Moreau 
 once more crossed the threshold of what she 
 called her "Derniere Resorte." 
 
 "Bienvenue, Madame!" cried Jean joyously, 
 as flushed and radiant, with a bright light in her 
 eyes and a smile on her lips, she entered the oak 
 chamber where, bolstered high with pillows, sat 
 Annette. 
 
 "Are you feeling better, Annette?" she asked, 
 hastening to her side. "Do you not think, good 
 Jean, that she is looking less pale, less wasted, 
 more like herself? What do you think, 
 Baptiste?" 
 
 "To me, madame," answered Baptiste, with 
 a half sheepish grin, "she has always looked 
 well." 
 
 "Did you think so when you said she was as 
 gaunt as a wolf?" asked his mistress, with a 
 mischievous smile dancing in her eyes. "Or did 
 you intend that as a compliment to our good 
 Annette?" 
 
 "But, madame!" exclaimed Baptiste, swing 
 ing out his great hands in an awkward gesture, 
 "did you not see she was thin? As to that, she 
 is not yet very fat!" 
 
 Late that evening, as Madame Moreau was 
 assisting Annette into bed, there came a loud
 
 AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 243 
 
 rap at the door. Holding their breath they 
 listened keenly. Again came the knock and the 
 sound of a bolt sliding back. Madame Moreau, 
 with a look of alarm, caught up a scarf which 
 lay on the chair. Pushing Baptiste into the 
 room with Annette and closing the panel, she 
 followed, just as the door opened. Who should 
 walk in upon Jean but the Duke of Burgundy ! 
 
 The two men looked at each other in surprise 
 and consternation. Jean, coming forward, 
 politely asked, as though unaware whom he was 
 addressing: 
 
 "Can I do anything for Monsieur?" 
 
 "Do," replied the Duke, as ready to meet 
 the situation as Jean. "I think you are the man 
 of whom Juvenal des Ursins has spoken to me." 
 
 "Doubtless, Monsieur," replied Jean, "if you 
 came here expecting to find me." 
 
 "No," said the Duke suavely, "that I did not, 
 for the best of reasons. I was to see the Advo 
 cate-General once more before talking with you. 
 Yet as long as you are here and he away, per 
 chance you can give me the information I am 
 seeking, as well as he." 
 
 "Anything that lies in my power, Monsieur," 
 replied Jean, wondering meanwhile what the 
 Duke was driving at. 
 
 He had noticed his sharp glance around the 
 room and had seen, with a shiver, his eye linger 
 on the panel which, by this, time, Jean knew 
 how to open. Secretly pressing the knife which 
 he wore in his belt more closely to his side, he 
 determined that before any one, even though it
 
 244 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 were the Duke of Burgundy, should harm his 
 young mistress, he should feel at his heart the 
 sharp point of its two-edged blade. In the 
 meantime, the Duke had taken a chair, resting 
 his elbow on the table. With his eyes on Jean s 
 face, he was wondering who this man could be. 
 Both his manners and his dress made him think 
 he might be gentle. But what was he doing 
 here? The Duke thought that no one but he 
 and Juvenal des Ursins knew of this secret 
 chamber and its cabinet beyond. 
 
 As swiftly as a mother-bird flies to her nest in 
 the spring when a hawk is about, came the re 
 membrance of what the Advocate-General had 
 told him of Madame Moreau and of her secret 
 hiding-place. He knew as well as if he had 
 been told that yonder, in the "Queen s Cabinet," 
 was the maid-of-honor ! No doubt the man be 
 fore him was one who knew her secret, and had 
 been left by the Advocate-General to protect 
 her. A slow smile stole into his eyes. He 
 watched Jean narrowly as he abruptly put the 
 question, "Can you tell me where to bear a 
 message to Madame Moreau?" 
 
 If he had thought to take his man unawares 
 he soon learned his mistake. With a face full 
 of amazement and inquiry, Jean answered 
 discreetly : 
 
 "I am afraid, Monsieur, you have mistaken 
 me for some one else. Could I tell you, I 
 would. When the Advocate-General left me, 
 he did not say I should have the honor of meet-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 245 
 
 ing Monsieur. He bade me await his return. 
 I drew from what he said that he alone knew 
 of this chamber." 
 
 The smile did not leave the Duke s eyes. He 
 thought, "This man has a keen wit and, doubt 
 less one less accustomed to men than myself 
 would be hoodwinked by his plausible address." 
 Yet he had no mind to fence with words, there 
 fore without further delay, he came to the 
 point. 
 
 "My need for being here," said the Duke 
 proudly, "is to see the Advocate-General in ref 
 erence to a matter that I learned this evening at 
 Court and which, if I mistake not, he would 
 desire to know at once. As he is not at home 
 and I cannot wait, t will have to go without 
 telling, except I can find Madame Moreau. But 
 if you do not know her, it would be impossible 
 for you to understand how important it is that 
 she should see me." 
 
 Jean was in a quandary. He could not deter 
 mine whether this was a ruse, or meant in fair 
 earnest. If he should give this man a clue which 
 should turn to his dear mistress hurt, what 
 would be left for him the rest of his life, but the 
 cup of despair? 
 
 The Duke s glance was still on Jean s face. 
 He noted his look of doubt and questioning. 
 Then, as though to push the nail home, he said 
 tentatively : 
 
 "Well, I suppose there s no use waiting on 
 an uncertainty. No one knows what time Mon-
 
 246 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 sieur 1 Avocat will arrive. After all, if Ma 
 dame Moreau is found, I have done what lay 
 in my power to warn her." 
 
 Then, as though suddenly remembering that 
 he was not alone, he said, addressing Jean 
 directly : 
 
 "The message which I was to give to this 
 Madame Moreau is of such moment that I left 
 weighty business to hasten here. But if you 
 cannot tell me, and as Juvenal des Ursins is 
 away, why, I must fain leave it untold and 
 trust to the bon Dieu to keep her from harm. 
 It is said, He looketh well to His own ! 
 
 "But, Monsieur," cried Jean, as the Duke 
 stopped speaking, "could you not leave with 
 me the message for the Advocate-General when 
 he shall arrive? If you do not care to tell me 
 you could put it in writing." 
 
 "No I" replied the Duke, rising as if to go. 
 "I came here not only to point out a danger, 
 but to offer myself as a shield and protection 
 against those who will be here ere long, with 
 law on their side, to take what s their own. In 
 this house there must be some one who has 
 spied on both the Advocate-General and Ma 
 dame Moreau. I can see that clearly. She 
 must be hidden here. I do not blame you 
 for your caution. Sometimes over-caution often, 
 I have heard said, spreads a trap for too wary 
 feet! But why do I linger here? If you do 
 not know, you cannot tell me. I would have 
 saved this fair maid-of-honor, if I could, from
 
 AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 247 
 
 a fate which, methinks, to one as delicate and 
 refined as she, must be worse than death !" 
 
 "Sit down, Monsieur!" cried Jean, in his 
 excitement forgetting aught else but the danger 
 to his young mistress which the Duke s last 
 words seemed to portend. "Sit down, and as 
 sure as I have strength in my right arm, if 
 you play the Marquise Irene de Chaillot false, 
 your being the Due de Burgundy shall nfot 
 save you !" 
 
 "Ah! then you know me!" exclaimed the 
 Duke, an unpleasant expression crossing his 
 face. "You have known me all the while. You 
 played your cards so well that even I was 
 deceived into believing that there was no man 
 in France who did not know Duke John of 
 Burgundy! But no matter. I respect you all 
 the more, whatever your station, for the loyalty 
 and faithfulness you have shown to your lady. 
 And now perchance it would be better to call 
 her from yon cabinet where, no doubt, she is 
 anxiously waiting for me to be gone." 
 
 Without more ado, without another word, 
 Jean crossed the room to the chimney. With 
 fingers as nimble as those of Juvenal des Ursins, 
 he pressed the spring. Silently and swiftly, as 
 lark on the wing, the panel flew open. 
 
 There, in a sweeping robe of crimson Genoese 
 velvet, her bare shoulders gleaming through 
 rich filmy lace, her throat and wrists encircled 
 with glittering jewels, stood Madame Moreau, 
 a half startled expression on her glowing, mo 
 bile face. Her dark blue eyes were brilliantly
 
 248 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 fearless and defiant. Her dainty head with its 
 crown of purplish black hair, was held proudly 
 erect. Framed by the cunningly carved cornice, 
 with the white blaze of candle light playing 
 about her, she looked what she was, a mag 
 nificently regal woman in her wondrous young 
 beauty. 
 
 "Ventre Saint Jean!" exclaimed the Duke, 
 unconsciously, as he caught a glimpse of the 
 radiant vision before him. "Can this be the 
 pale shaking maiden whom I saw borne off 
 fainting from Queen Isabel s apartments?" 
 
 Then remembering where he was and who 
 was standing before him, for Madame Moreau, 
 entering the room, had made him a sweeping 
 curtesy, he took his hat from his head and 
 bowed so low that its plumes swept the floor, as 
 he said: 
 
 "Your pardon, Marquise Chaillot. I would 
 not have intruded, had I not hoped to do you 
 a service. There is little time for idle compli 
 ments, so I will at once come to my mission. 
 Two hours back, I was dining sub-rose with 
 Queen Isabel. She, not suspecting that my sym 
 pathies were with you, told me that the King 
 had been induced this very afternoon to sign 
 a paper by which Monsieur Moreau could take 
 you, willy-nilly, wherever he might find you. In 
 conversation I discovered that he knew you 
 were here. In the early morning, the hour when 
 slumber locks the senses most firmly, he is to 
 make a descent on this house, with the king s 
 commission in his pocket, feeling sure that
 
 AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 249 
 
 none would dare stay him from taking you 
 whom he claims to be his own." 
 
 At these words Madame Moreau s head was 
 lifted higher than before, and with an impera 
 tive gesture which stayed his speech, she said 
 incisively : 
 
 "Never ! I thank you, Monsieur le Due, for 
 this warning. I must not stay longer to draw 
 my old friend into trouble. I wish he were here 
 to give me advice." 
 
 "If you would trust the honor of Duke John 
 of Burgundy, in his strength to protect, in his 
 willingness to serve, I could conduct you to the 
 Hotel d Artois and all the fiends in hell should 
 not take you from me !" 
 
 Jean did not like the look of bold admira 
 tion which he saw on the Duke s swarthy face, 
 nor the gleam of longing in his eye, when he 
 looked upon his mistress. Something told him 
 that, at heart, he meant her well. Yet he 
 watched him as a terrier would a rat, half ready 
 to spring. 
 
 At that moment, the rasping of a key in a 
 lock and half indistinct voices, fell on their ears. 
 With a gesture of command and a kingly up- 
 rearing of his head which reminded Madame 
 Moreau, as he threw back his long black hair, 
 of a lion tossing back his mane, the Duke 
 exclaimed: 
 
 "Back, my lady, back to the Queen s Cab 
 inet!"
 
 250 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Turning to Jean, he cried imperiously, "Go 
 with her and close to the panel. Leave me to 
 meet whomever it may be, alone!" 
 
 With another sweeping bow and a glance 
 which strengthened her courage, he said im 
 pressively: 
 
 "You can depend till death, Marquise Chail- 
 lot, on the Due de Burgundy!"
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 L ESCALIER DU DlABLE 
 
 "Love lend me wings to make my purpose swift, 
 As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift." 
 Tivo Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 But we must follow the Count and the Earl 
 who, with their kind friend, Juvenal des Ursins, 
 were picking their way in the darkness through 
 the narrow streets of Paris. 
 
 "Do we not need our horses?" asked the 
 Earl, speaking low in the Count s ear, "and 
 several strong arms beside our own? I have, 
 not a bowshot away a dozen of my men, among 
 whom are old Simon and Jock, and one Sandy 
 McPherson. They all love Lady Beatrice bet 
 ter than life. Do you not think it well to have 
 them with us?" 
 
 "If old Simon is there," replied the Count 
 with animation, "by all means ! He is worth 
 a dozen in himself. So is his son, Jock. As I 
 have left my ten men-at-arms on watch, I think 
 that four or five of yours will be a-plenty. This 
 is not a case where might is so much needed 
 as secrecy and dispatch. Therefore, it would 
 be better for the Advocate-General and myself 
 to wait here, in this doorway, till you get rein 
 forcement, we not being seen together. There 
 is no knowing what spies Captain Bertonner 
 has about." 
 
 251
 
 252 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 In a short time the Earl returned with Simon 
 and Jock, as well as the doughty Scotchman, 
 who had paid such marked attention to Annette 
 at The Silver Moon. In a few terse words the 
 Earl had explained the peril of Lady Beatrice 
 to the old henchman and his son, who gripped 
 their blades with a look in their eyes which 
 boded ill to any who should strive to stay the 
 rescue of their young mistress. On joining the 
 Count and the Advocate-General, each man 
 strode silently forward through narrow lanes 
 and byways, swiftly following the young French 
 man, who had taken the lead like one who knew 
 every turning. At last, with a whisper to the 
 Earl, who passed it to the Advocate-General, 
 they halted. Each gripped his sword for 
 action, felt for the pistol in his belt, and watched 
 the Count like a ghostly shadow till he was lost 
 in the gloom, yet heard no sound of his foot 
 steps. All realized the necessity that naught on 
 their part should awaken suspicion. 
 
 In the houses on either side of the street, 
 which were built out like beetling brows till 
 they almost touched one another, they heard 
 loud cursing, fighting, carousing, the shrill voices 
 of women and the wailing of children, mingling 
 with the harsher tones of men capable of the 
 vilest deeds. Though they knew that death 
 hovered about them, yet none of this little party 
 felt the least sensation of fear. 
 
 As silently as he had stolen away, the Count 
 returned with his men-at-arms. He whispered 
 a few words of direction to the Earl and to
 
 L ESCALIER DU DlABLE . 253 
 
 each man, waiting in the darkness, to prepare 
 them for the attack, which might come at any 
 moment from the right or the left, overhead 
 or the rear. Slowly, one by one, the men melted 
 into the gloom, till there remained with the 
 Count only the Earl, the Advocate-General, old 
 Simon and Jock, who, followed in the footsteps 
 of the Count as noiselessly as they could con 
 sidering the roughness of the way, until they 
 at last found themselves at a door at the end 
 of a blind alley. In the dim light of a great 
 lantern, begrimed with dirt, they saw in the 
 center of a large garden shut in by a high way, 
 what seemed in the gloom to be a stately edifice. 
 Once more the Count whispered certain direc 
 tions to each one of his party. Then, as they 
 drew back into the deeper shadow, he rapped 
 boldly at the door. Five loud blows he gave in 
 quick succession, then, drawing the handle of 
 his sword down its iron-ribbed front, twice 
 slowly, once rapidly, the others listening, heard 
 the opening of a grill, then a coarse voice 
 inquire : 
 
 "Who is disturbing peaceful folks at this 
 time of night? Get you gone, you brawler, or 
 will I cleave your skull with my battle-axe!" 
 
 "That s nothing to me," half whispered the 
 Count. This had been the signal agreed upon 
 between Captain Bertonner and the Duke of 
 Orleans, to be used when he should come to 
 the secret entrance by "L Escalier du Diable." 
 
 "Rien ne m est plus. Why keep me waiting? 
 A civil tongue were best for you."
 
 254 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "You are early, my lord," muttered the man, 
 as he rattled the bolts and jangled his keys. 
 "Captain Bertonner said you would not come 
 till midnight, and that is two hours hence." 
 
 "And what s that to you?" exclaimed the 
 Count angrily. "Venire Saint Jean! if you do 
 not open quickly your head, by tomorrow, it 
 shall adorn one of these iron spikes!" 
 
 The man, evidently alarmed, threw back the 
 bolt and opened the gate leading into the gar 
 den, while the Count, muffling his face with 
 his cloak, strode boldly in, exclaimed impera 
 tively : 
 
 "Stand back, man: make room for my fol 
 lowers!" 
 
 "But, my lord, I was to admit none but you." 
 
 "Do you think, wretch, that I would trust 
 my head in such a devil s den without a few 
 trusty blades to insure me a whole skin? Step 
 back, I say, step back! Were you less vile I 
 would have run you through with my sword 
 long ago." 
 
 "Andre! Andre!" at this moment came a 
 shrill cry from a window. "What are you 
 doing? Mon Dieuf T would seem to me you 
 are parleying over long at my gate. Do you 
 think to cheat Marie Verte? Tell them that 
 this is a quiet house; that we do not shelter 
 prowlers. Have you opened the gate, man? If 
 you have, depend upon it, you will feel my 
 claws in your face!" 
 
 With shaking voice the man replied: 
 
 "It is the"
 
 L ESCALIER DU DlABLE 255 
 
 "Hist, hist, man!" whispered the Count. 
 "Dare to use my name in this foul den, and I 
 will split you, even if I have to lose a good 
 blade in so doing. Tell your mistress it is he 
 who was expected at twelve." 
 
 Once again came the voice from the window, 
 this time more shrilly than before : 
 
 "Andre, Andre ! What are you saying? Are 
 you drunk? If you do not come to the house 
 at once and make all things plain, you will yet 
 drink a cup of your own brewing!" 
 
 "It is," cried poor Andre again, "he who 
 was to have come at twelve, Madame Verte." 
 
 "Then why did you not say so? Morbleu! 
 you are the stupidest ass in the quarter. See 
 to the gate and show the leech this way. It is 
 high time that he was here, for my niece has 
 been crying with pain ever since the night came. 
 Show him this way, Andre; I say, show him 
 this way." 
 
 While this parleying between Marie Verte 
 and her servant had been taking place, the Earl, 
 Juvenal des Ursins, Simon and Jock, had come 
 quietly into the garden, holding their cloaks 
 well around their faces, as did the Count. One 
 more had slipped in unobserved, and hid behind 
 a tree, waiting till Andre had gone with the 
 rest to the house. It was his intention to find 
 some way to let in the Count s men-at-arms. 
 This was no less a person than Jacques Poisson, 
 to whom the Count had given the purse for his 
 crippled child, Nanon. In his confusion, ex 
 citement and fear of his mistress, Andre had
 
 256 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 bolted the door leaving the key in the lock. 
 With a "Pardon me, Monsieur," he led the 
 way to the side entrance of the house. Here, 
 unexpectedly, he found the old hag standing 
 in the darkness, her hand on the door, waiting 
 to admit the Duke, whom she had so craftily 
 led her neighbors to believe was a leech. 
 
 As the Count, with an imperious gesture, ad 
 vanced, she said in a tone intended to be gentle 
 and polite : 
 
 "You are early, my lord. But who are these 
 with you? Captain Bertonner said naught to 
 me of you bringing company." 
 
 For answer, the Count pressed a purse into 
 the woman s hand, saying in a half whisper: 
 
 "Hist, Madame! They are those who will 
 find this fair lady has trouble in her brain, and 
 thus rid you of her presence." 
 
 "He, he, he!" cackled the beldame. "He, 
 he, he!" Then, with a note of suspicion, "But 
 had the Captain his money?" 
 
 "You have yours," answered the Count, in 
 a half muffled voice; "let that suffice, and leave 
 the Captain and me to settle our own bargains. 
 Now show me the way! I have waited long 
 enough." 
 
 Picking up a tallow dip which was sputtering 
 in a pewter candlestick on the floor, Marie Verte 
 went down a long corridor, the Count following 
 close at her heels, while the Earl and the others 
 kept as close as they could. Turning a sharp 
 angle to the left, then another to the right, she 
 stopped before a door at the end of a small hall.
 
 L ESCALIER DU DlABLE 257 
 
 Putting the key in the lock she said with a hid 
 eous smirk: 
 
 "You will not find your turtle dove all sugar, 
 my lord, but if she has trouble with her brain, 
 he ! he ! he ! it s no wonder that she s not pleased 
 at the thought of seeing you, as you might wish." 
 
 "Begone!" cried the Count in a quick stern 
 voice which was still smothered by his cloak; 
 "Begone before I and my friends enter." 
 
 Seeing her hesitate, as though disinclined to 
 obey, he exclaimed in a loud tone, forgetting for 
 the moment his former precautions, "Get you 
 gone I" 
 
 Evidently Marie Verte knew the voice of the 
 Duke of Orleans, for, with a quick, catlike 
 spring, she drew the key from the door, crying : 
 
 "You are not the Duke ! Who are you?" 
 
 "I am one," replied the Count, now throwing 
 off all disguise, "whom it were better you had 
 died when a child than to interfere with. Stand 
 one side, lest I forget you wear the semblance 
 of womanhood!" 
 
 "He, he, he!" cackled the hag. "Do you 
 think you can affright me? Do you think I am 
 alone ? Why, I have a whistle here that would 
 call thrice your number to protect me 1" 
 
 "You have !" exclaimed old Simon, as with 
 the fierceness of a tiger he threw his arm round 
 her so as to pinion hers to her side, while press 
 ing his other hand with a vise-like grip over her 
 mouth. 
 
 But fearing lest there might be still a way by 
 which she could make an outcry, he caught her
 
 258 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 up from the floor and held her wriggling, twist 
 ing, kicking, striving in vain to release herself, 
 while with a rapid movement the Count, turn 
 ing the key, threw open the door. There, in the 
 semi-darkness, at the farthest corner of the 
 room, stood Lady Beatrice, her back against the 
 wall. In her hand glittered a dagger; her violet 
 eyes were scintillating like some wild creature s 
 at bay; her face was pallid, while all about her 
 hung like a mantle to the floor, the golden sheen 
 of her beautiful hair. Dreading lest in her 
 excitement and agitation she should do herself 
 harm, the Count exclaimed abruptly : 
 
 "Here is your father!" 
 
 The Earl, dropping his cloak, went quickly 
 to her side, crying: 
 
 "Beatrice! My poor Beatrice!" 
 
 With a sob pitiful to hear in one usually so 
 self-possessed and so merry, she laid her head 
 on the Earl s shoulder. His arms held her close 
 to his heart. Thus for a moment they stood. 
 The others, feeling that this reunion was too 
 sacred to look upon, turned their heads. Real 
 izing the necessity of leaving the place as quickly 
 as possible, the Count said gently: 
 
 "I trust, Lord Wotton, you will not forget 
 the need we have of haste? We will withdraw, 
 so that Lady Beatrice may prepare quickly to 
 leave this vile den." 
 
 As the Earl, in a low reassuring voice, 
 released her clinging arms from his neck, saying 
 tenderly, "Do not fear, but make what speed
 
 L ESCALIER DU DlABLE 259 
 
 you can with your preparations for departure," 
 she exclaimed agitatedly: 
 
 "Do not leave me ! Do not leave me ! Why 
 need I care for you? Are you not my father?" 
 
 Seeing her state of mind, the Earl said sooth 
 ingly : 
 
 "Yes, my little Trixy, your father! Let me 
 help you as I used when, as a child, you ran 
 away from your nurse with a shoe and stocking, 
 crying, Dada, dada, put these on. Put these 
 on." 
 
 While talking, he had been gathering up 
 different articles of clothing, placing them in her 
 hands. Swiftly she coiled her hair, making 
 ready to go with him. The Earl then wrapped 
 around her shoulders a cloak, the one which the 
 Count had taken from Edward, and opening the 
 door, they went out together into the dimly 
 lighted hall. 
 
 Without a word, the Count in advance, the 
 Earl close behind him, half supporting, half 
 carryinig his daughter, followed by Juvenal des 
 Ursins, Simon and Jock, they hastened to the 
 court-yard. While his lady had been dressing, 
 Simon had taken pains to fasten a gag into the 
 mouth of Marie Verte, and to tie her up securely 
 so that she had the use of neither feet nor hands. 
 But before they could reach the gate, she had 
 managed in some way to give the alarm. For 
 tunately for them, they found the gate unbarred, 
 unlocked, wide open, with Sandy, Andrew, Saul 
 and the men-at-arms waiting. Finding they
 
 260 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 were close pressed, Juvenal des Ursins cried to 
 the Count: 
 
 "Let us make haste and when we get " here 
 his voice dropped to a whisper so low that none 
 but the Count could catch what was said "let 
 all except the old henchman, his son and the 
 Scotchman, scatter to their homes. You follow 
 me. I will lead you through the quarries to my 
 house. In this way alone can we elude pursuit." 
 
 Hurrying forward till they reached an old 
 tumbledown building near the corner of the 
 street, the men dispersed, while the others, fol 
 lowing the Advocate-General into the house, 
 closed the door behind them. 
 
 Their pursuers were so close upon their heels 
 that the men, in separating, drew them off the 
 scent, while those in the house kept so quiet 
 that naught could be heard but the scuttling of 
 rats which they had disturbed by their entrance. 
 
 When Juvenal des Ursins thought it safe to 
 proceed, he lighted a small lantern that he had 
 drawn from beneath his coat and with many a 
 word of caution as to the broken stairs which 
 they must descend, and rottenness of the boards, 
 they pressed forward, the Earl carrying his 
 daughter with her face hidden on his shoulder. 
 At last they were in the quarry. Down a long 
 corridor they went until, turning to the left 
 into another the Earl, half breathless, ex 
 claimed : 
 
 "Halt, for a moment, if you can!" Then, 
 with a half smothered laugh, he added, "Bea 
 trice, your weight is more than when a child."
 
 L ESCALIER DU DlABLE 261 
 
 "That is so, Daddy. I see no reason why I 
 cannot walk. You at least have strength to 
 lead me, have you not?" she asked merrily. 
 
 "Yes, verily, my dear," replied the Earl, 
 laughingly. 
 
 On they started once more, following the 
 lead of the Advocate-General, as rapidly as the 
 way would permit, the Count on one side of 
 Lady Beatrice, her father on the other, with 
 Simon, Jock and Sandy bringing up the rear. 
 More than once, as she felt beneath her feet 
 some cold, slimy thing, Lady Beatrice involun 
 tarily shrank. She would not own even to her 
 father that in her excitement she had forgotten 
 her stockings and shoes. 
 
 At last, weary, her feet blistered, torn, bleed 
 ing, she exclaimed with an attempt at gaiety: 
 
 "I, too, must cry a halt! Think you I am a 
 man and can walk on forever without taking a 
 breath?" 
 
 The Count, in spite of her brave endeavors 
 to hide it, had seen what the Earl had not per 
 ceived, that she limped as though in pain. The 
 thought naturally came to him that the soles 
 of her shoes must be thin, and that if he could 
 carry her, she would seem but a feather s weight. 
 Farther on, as they were passing into a circular 
 chamber, they caught the bright flash of a torch : 
 Juvenal des Ursins, turning quickly, exclaimed 
 in a startled whisper: 
 
 "Back, back, back!" 
 
 Scarcely had they drawn into the shadow of 
 a projection when Captain Bertonner, cursing
 
 262 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 fiercely, dashed past, his men with lighted can 
 dles held high aloft, following. Each one dis 
 tinctly heard the Captain s words : 
 
 "Twice the money, men, twice the money if 
 we are there in time ! It was a cunning laid plot, 
 but I will show the Comte d Epernon and 
 Jacques Poisson that they cannot get ahead of 
 Captain Bertonner." 
 
 Waiting till all sound was lost in the distance, 
 and scarce daring to breathe, when they thought 
 of their narrow escape, our little party at last 
 ventured out from the friendly shadow. In 
 attempting to hasten forward, Lady Beatrice 
 unfortunately struck her foot upon a sharp 
 pointed rock. With a stifled groan of pain, she 
 would have fallen, had not the Count s arm 
 interposed. 
 
 "Grace a Dieuf" he cried impetuously, "you 
 are hurt!" 
 
 It was then that her father discovered that 
 she was stockingless and shoeless, and that her 
 dainty white feet were stained with blood, lacer 
 ated to such a degree that he could but marvel 
 at her courage in pressing forward without a 
 complaint. When the Earl would have again 
 lifted Lady Beatrice in his arms, the Count 
 asked earnestly: 
 
 "Why cannot we carry her between us?" 
 
 In spite of her protestations they formed a 
 seat with their crossed hands. In order to keep 
 her balance she was obliged, much to the Count s 
 satisfaction, to place an arm around his neck 
 as well as her father s.
 
 L ESCALIER DU DlABLE 263 
 
 It was in this manner, when the width of the 
 passage would permit, that they continued their 
 long tramp, till at last Juvenal des Ursins cried 
 cheerily : 
 
 "Home at last!" 
 
 It was they whom Madame Moreau and the 
 Duke had heard, as the key rasped in the lock. 
 It was their muffled voices that had ascended to 
 the wainscotted chamber, as tenderly they bore 
 Lady Beatrice up the stairway to the door, on 
 which the Advocate-General knocked loudly. 
 
 The Duke, hearing the sound, paid no heed, 
 till he caught the signal formerly agreed upon 
 between him and the Advocate-General. Has 
 tening forward, he touched the spring which 
 opened the door. To his amazement, he saw 
 not only Juvenal des Ursins, but behind him two 
 men, bearing between them what seemed to him 
 by the dim light that came from the oak cham 
 ber, a golden-haired Hebe.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 
 
 "All s well that ends well." 
 
 All s Well That Ends Well. 
 Act 4, Sc. III. 
 
 "Ah le bon Dieuf is that you, my lord?" cried 
 Juvenal des Ursins in astonishment, as he saw 
 who had opened the door. "You are a surprise ! 
 Whence came you? I thought you had tabooed 
 the city of Paris. Come in, Lord Wotton, come 
 in with your daughter; and you, too, Comte 
 d Epernon. If I mistake not, the quicker we are 
 all this side of the closed door, the better!" 
 
 "This, Duke John of Burgundy," continued 
 the Advocate-General with a wave of his hand 
 a quick, imperative gesture, doubtless ac 
 quired in his profession, "is Lady Beatrice, the 
 granddaughter of the Duchess de Berry, if I 
 have it rightly; therefore she is an English 
 relative of thine." 
 
 The Duke, with a profound bow, took the 
 liberty of a cousin and saluted the fair Lady 
 Beatrice French fashion. Noting the quick 
 color that flushed even her forehead, he cried 
 with a smile in his eyes that belied the words 
 on his lips : 
 
 "You must pardon me. I forgot, ma belle 
 cousine, that you are from the cold side of the 
 
 264
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 265 
 
 Channel. But let me not keep you standing 
 while I make acquaintance with your father." 
 
 The Duke bowed to the Count, whom he had 
 often seen at Court, and extending his hand to 
 the Earl said in his most debonair manner: 
 
 "This is a great pleasure, Lord Wotton; one 
 that I scarce hoped to enjoy. I trust that 
 neither you nor your daughter are in peril ? But 
 if you should be, let me offer the protection of 
 Due John of Burgundy." 
 
 "You are kind," replied the Earl cordially, 
 "but I trust the danger is past. Yet I thank 
 you for your good will." 
 
 The Count had been conversing in a low tone 
 with Lady Beatrice who, with roughened hair 
 and disheveled dress, was trying, in spite of all 
 she suffered, to keep a smiling face. 
 
 When the Earl finished speaking, Juvenal des 
 Ursins, who could no longer restrain his curi 
 osity, inquired eagerly: 
 
 "But how haps it, my lord, that you are here? 
 Was any one here when you entered?" 
 
 "By my troth," replied the Duke emphatic 
 ally, "I should say that there was! But here 
 am I wagging my tongue like any old dame, 
 with time like Pegasus, flying apace. If these 
 friends will excuse us, I would speak to you 
 apart on a matter of the gravest importance." 
 
 "By all means 1" exclaimed the Count and the 
 Earl simultaneously. "You need not heed us." 
 
 "With your permission, Juvenal des Ursins," 
 added the Count, "I will turn out a glass of 
 wine from this bottle for Lady Beatrice."
 
 266 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Do, do !" cried the hospitable Advocate- 
 General. "By all means, for yourself and the 
 Earl also, and as for that, give some to Simon, 
 Jock and the Scotchman! Methinks it would 
 do you all good after the experiences of the 
 night." 
 
 Walking with the Duke to the farther end of 
 the room, the two conversed in low tones. At 
 last the Advocate-General was heard to exclaim 
 angrily : 
 
 "But I tell you, not even a commission signed 
 by the King can supersede mine which is from 
 the Pope." 
 
 "Be it so," said the Duke persuasively, "it 
 would be better if she could leave Paris yes, 
 if she could leave France, without meeting this 
 viper, Monsieur Moreau. Can you not see, 
 man, if she were to come to Hotel d Artois till 
 such time as she could slip quietly across the 
 channel, it would give you a chance to settle the 
 matter with the King, and her the opportunity, 
 should she so desire, to marry a man whom 
 she could respect one more suited to be her 
 husband. But why not let her decide for her 
 self? Perchance these English cousins of mine 
 will accompany her. There seems to be need 
 for them also, to leave Paris as soon as may be. 
 I would not trust the Dauphin or Due Charles 
 d Orleans, or others at the Court whom I could 
 mention. Methinks there is more in this mat 
 ter of la belle Beatrice than comes to the sur 
 face. Has she not landed estates here in France
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 267 
 
 that, were she to drop out of sight, would revert 
 to the crown?" 
 
 "That is true," said the Advocate-General 
 meditatively. "Strange I had not thought of 
 that. The whole thing was such a surprise ; her 
 abduction, her rescue, the flight that for once 
 my wits must have left me. The Earl s real 
 business in Paris is in reference to her mother s 
 estates, so that at her grandparents death, Lady 
 Beatrice can come, without annoyance, into pos 
 session. It might be well, if there is to be a 
 marriage between her and Comte Raoul d Eper- 
 non, that it should receive the recognition of the 
 Due and Duchess de Berry. What fitter place 
 for the ceremony than yours, the house of her 
 cousin? Then would she have a double pro 
 tection, that of her liege lord, and that of the 
 Due de Burgundy." 
 
 "Call the Earl here, my lord," continued the 
 Advocate-General, "or stay, I will do it myself." 
 
 When the Earl of Wotton joined them, they 
 acquainted him with Madame Moreau s posi 
 tion, the Advocate-General, in a few terse 
 words, explaining that even though she bore 
 the name of Madame Moreau, yet by the 
 Pope s dispensation, she was legally free from 
 a bond which had been only in name, and at 
 liberty to marry again, if she chose. "In my 
 judgment it were better she should leave Paris; 
 mayhap even better that she should leave 
 France." 
 
 While thoughts of Madame Moreau were 
 running riot through the Earl s mind, the Advo-
 
 268 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 cate plainly put to him the case in regard to 
 the property which he had come to possess him 
 self of for Lady Beatrice; after which Duke 
 John, with persuasive eloquence, laid clearly 
 before the Earl the complications that might 
 be avoided. 
 
 "You see, if my uncle and aunt, the Due and 
 Duchess de Berry should get the ear of the 
 king, and with it his consent to the marriage of 
 Comte d Epernon to Lady Beatrice, all would 
 be well." 
 
 "I agree with you, Duke John," said the Earl 
 unhesitatingly, "as to the wisdom of such a 
 proceeding, and will gladly accept your kind 
 invitation for my daughter and myself. Me- 
 thinks we should start at once while yet there 
 is time. As to the other matters, we can talk 
 them over more calmly and decide more wisely, 
 after a night s rest." 
 
 Then, to the astonishment of Lady Beatrice, 
 the Advocate-General, leaving the Duke and her 
 father in animated conversation, went to the 
 chimney where, after a rapid movement of his 
 hand on the fretwork of the cornice, a panel slid 
 back. What more greatly amazed her was the 
 unlooked for vision of Madame Moreau who, 
 in the blaze of candle-light, was a revelation of 
 exquisite loveliness. Stepping forward into the 
 room, she greeted the Earl of Wotton with a 
 smile so full of sweetness and with so stately 
 a curtesy, that Lady Beatrice, with girlish en 
 thusiasm, determined then and there to imitate 
 it at the first opportunity.
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 269 
 
 While she was wondering where her father 
 could have seen this lady before, he came to her 
 side saying simply: 
 
 "This, Madame Moreau, is Lady Beatrice, 
 my daughter of whom I have spoken." 
 
 They were in the midst of an earnest dis 
 cussion as to the ways and means by which they 
 might elude their pursuers, and the best steps 
 to be taken to reach the Hotel d Artois unper- 
 ceived, when they heard both at the outer door 
 and the one leading to the stairs from the quar 
 ries, a hammering, an incessant rapping, as 
 though those who waited had no intention of 
 being put off. 
 
 "Quick!" exclaimed Juvenal des Ursins. 
 "Haste to the Queen s Cabinet. Take your 
 daughter, Lord Wotton! Come, Simon, Jock 
 and Sandy : bring with you the candles : gather 
 up your mistress s cloak. Is there aught else 
 about the room that would speak of her pres 
 ence? Make haste I There is no time for 
 delay." 
 
 When all were in the Cabinet and the panel 
 again closed, Juvenal des Ursins said to Jean : 
 
 "You and Baptiste must carry Annette. Wrap 
 a warm blanket about her: but first, gather up 
 the belongings of your mistress. Make haste, 
 for each moment counts." 
 
 Then with alertness, a silver candle-stick in 
 hand, he turned to the Duke, saying excitedly : 
 
 "Look out for the others; Lady Beatrice can 
 not walk. Ah ! now I have it." With a push he 
 slid back the bed, disclosing beneath it a trap
 
 270 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 door which he opened by pressing a spring with 
 his foot. "Bring the candles, we shall need 
 their light on the way. Wrap warm things 
 about you, for the place through which we 
 must pass is damp and cold." 
 
 As they hastened down the stone stairway, he 
 drew after them the trap door. They heard 
 the bed roll into place, drowning the sound of 
 hurrying footsteps through the corridor ; of feet 
 crossing the wainscotted room, of curses, revil- 
 ings, loud execrations, as the two parties in 
 pursuit tried every panel that they might effect 
 an entrance into the Queen s Cabinet. They 
 hurried on, stumbling at times over the rough 
 way, Madame Moreau, with her crimson velvet 
 robe held up around her, leaning on the Earl s 
 arm, while Simon and the Count carried between 
 them Lady Beatrice. As before Juvenal des 
 Ursins took the lead, the Duke bringing up the 
 rear. 
 
 After they had wound in and out through 
 narrow turnings, down a second flight of stairs 
 and across a great hollow space into the very 
 bowels of the earth, where Lady Beatrice saw 
 on either side the sepulchres of the dead, the 
 Advocate-General halted, calling back to the 
 Duke: 
 
 "I do not remember this chamber! Can it 
 be that I have lost the way?" 
 
 "No: I think not!" said the Duke. "But if 
 you have ! Let me pass, man, let me pass ;" this 
 to Baptiste who, terrified and shaking scarce
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 271 
 
 knew what he was about as he blindly followed 
 Jean and Sandy who were bearing Annette. 
 
 The Duke pressed to the side of the Advocate- 
 General and a whispered consultation took 
 place, ending in his blowing out all the candles 
 but two, saying gravely as he did so : 
 
 "We may have need of them ere we reach 
 Hotel d Artois. But feel no fear: there is 
 naught to alarm unless it be the rats, for no one 
 methinks, but the Advocate-General and I know 
 of this secret passage." 
 
 Then without speaking further, he advanced 
 a few steps to where, as he held up the light, he 
 could plainly read a name. 
 
 "Tut, tut, man!" cried the Duke exultantly, 
 "you have turned to the right instead of the 
 left. That does not matter. I know this way : 
 the one you usually traverse, Juvenal des Ursins, 
 is less familiar to me. Still, yours is the better. 
 This way we shall have to pass the long dark 
 pool. Yet with sure footing there is no reason 
 why it should not be accomplished in safety. 
 We must not tarry in the damp, but press 
 onward, for the way is yet long before us." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word and holding 
 high the candle, which made but a flickering 
 gleam above his head, he turned to the left. 
 After advancing some distance in silence, each 
 one feeling the chill of the place, the loneliness 
 and horror of what was about them, all, except 
 Baptiste and Annette bravely suppressing any 
 sign of fear, the Duke cried suddenly:
 
 272 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "By the sound of trickling water, we must 
 be nearing the pool ! Take heed of your foot 
 steps when I give a shrill whistle. T will be 
 well for you, Jock, if you have a steady head 
 to walk with a lighted candle between your 
 father and the edge. The path is over shelving, 
 and if any one is to fall into the foul depths of 
 the flood, it must not be my fair cousin, Lady 
 Beatrice. Perchance it would be well, Comte 
 Raoul d Epernon, for you to set down your 
 precious burden so as to rest the muscles of your 
 arms, for, although the way is but short, yet it 
 is steep, and one mis-step could not fail to send 
 you all floundering, le bon Dieu knoweth 
 where." 
 
 Acting on this advice, not only the Count and 
 old Simon, but Jean and Sandy straightened up 
 their backs, thus releasing their cramped 
 muscles, while Lady Beatrice and Annette were 
 deposited on a broad slab side by side. 
 
 "Are you not frightened, Mademoiselle?" 
 asked the shivering handmaiden, in low sub 
 dued tones. "Do you not feel a deathly chill 
 creeping over you? This very stone covers 
 some one that is dead!" 
 
 "No, my good girl," answered Lady Beatrice 
 reassuringly, "I feel no fear. Why should I? 
 Are we not protected by those with strong arms 
 and clear brains? Cheer up, for I know you, 
 too, have a brave heart, and if I am not mis 
 taken, by the glance of Sandy McPherson, you 
 have in him one to bear you whose love is as 
 strong as his arm !"
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 273 
 
 "Do you think so, Mademoiselle?" cried 
 Annette joyously, momentarily forgetting her 
 fears. "He did tell me so once at the Silver 
 Moon, where your father first met my mis 
 tress." 
 
 While they were talking, Madame Moreau 
 drew near and now said blithely : 
 
 "Yes : it was at a quiet hostelry. Your father 
 was on his way to Harfleur. You do not seem 
 to me a stranger, for he told me of you, where 
 you were going, and gave me such kind advice, 
 spoke such words of comfort in my sore distress 
 that my heart, like a bird, has been singing with 
 hope ever since !" 
 
 Lady Beatrice, charmed by her voice, her 
 words and her manner, made a shrewd guess 
 that this singing betokened that the little blind 
 god had been playing his tricks with Madame 
 Moreau as successfully as with herself. 
 
 She had caught the glance of admiration in 
 her father s eyes when Madame Moreau step 
 ped into the wainscotted room. For a moment 
 she had felt a cold chill at her heart. Later on, 
 when her father introduced her, she had per 
 ceived a tender inflection in his voice which 
 she had never heard before except when he 
 was speaking to herself. Taking herself to 
 task with severe chiding, she mentally asked: 
 "Are you going to be selfish, when you are 
 about uniting your life with another s, thus 
 leaving your father alone? Would it not be 
 better if, in this charming woman, scarce older
 
 274 . CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 than yourself, he could find love, happiness and 
 consolation for your absence?" 
 
 While Madame Moreau and Lady Beatrice 
 were resting, the Earl, followed by the Count 
 and old Simon, Jean and Sandy, were shown by 
 the Duke the side of the pool, the slipperiness 
 of the shelving slate where the water had oozed 
 over it, and the low arched roof under which 
 they would have to stoop even as they passed 
 this terrible spot. 
 
 The Earl and the Count felt strange misgiv 
 ings as they saw in the darkness what lay before 
 them, where one mis-step might send them, God 
 alone knows where ! Yet they were not men 
 to quail at peril, but rather to become more 
 fearless in the presence of danger. At last the 
 Duke exclaimed in an encouraging tone : 
 
 "To work, my friends, to work! If we all 
 stay here in this dampness and gloom, we shall 
 become a part of the vapors about us." 
 
 Drawing close to where Madame Moreau 
 was standing, he flashed the light of the candle 
 so that it showed her face plainly, the better to 
 see of what courage she was made, and as her 
 eyes looked back into his with the steadfast, 
 fearless glance of a noble soul, he said apolo 
 getically and earnestly: 
 
 "Would I had known you, Madame Moreau, 
 when I was younger: then might the Due of 
 Burgundy have felt the strong influence of a 
 woman as bold, and a thousand-fold more pure 
 than himself! But let us press onward, else 
 we shall arrive after dawn, at the one dangerous
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 275 
 
 spot of our journey. When we come out of this 
 grewsome place, we must cross a large square 
 and turn a sharp angle before we can enter 
 into the Hotel d Artois. Once there, you are as 
 safe as you would be across the channel. But 
 it is too gloomy a place in which to keep two 
 starlings like you and my fair cousin. 
 
 "Now, if you are ready, let us advance! 
 Monsieur 1 Avocat, have you a candle? and you, 
 Jock, to light the Earl on his way?" 
 
 Slowly, with careful footsteps, they entered 
 the narrow cavern, full of dark odors and noi 
 some, slimy creatures, which the fitful rays of 
 the candle-light made appear even more crawl 
 ing and loathsome. The Earl, drawing Madame 
 Moreau more closely to his side, took hold of 
 her hand as it rested on his arm, with a reas 
 suring pressure, marveling at its coolness and 
 steadiness. He gave it a lingering pressure as 
 it lay confidingly in his, saying, in a voice too 
 low for any but herself to hear: 
 
 "Forgive me if I seem too bold, but one may 
 live years in moments when, knocking at the 
 heart for admittance, is fear for the beloved 
 a fear that would but mark the craven if in 
 dulged in for self. The moment I saw you at 
 the Silver Moon there came into my life a 
 vivifying ray of sunshine. This, entering into 
 every nook and cranny of the citadel of love, 
 awakened into new life the germ that I thought 
 buried in ashes, quickening it until it has taken 
 root, and now when I least expected its mani 
 festation it has shot up into a healthy plant,
 
 276 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 bearing not only bud and blossom, but the well- 
 rounded fruit! 
 
 "I ask not for an answer: this is neither the 
 place nor the time. I did not intend to speak 
 of my thoughts, of my feelings and desires, 
 until rested, recovered from your anxiety, 
 strengthened by the love of my daughter into a 
 better knowledge of me, you should feel that 
 life would be brighter, happier, more full and 
 complete, were yours linked with mine. With 
 you near me your hand on my arm, realizing 
 your steadfastness, your firmness, your noble 
 courage, I could not refrain from speech. Yet 
 would I rather hear that which shall bless all my 
 life, or create a new shadow over it, where the 
 sunlight of heaven can shine upon us, instead of 
 here, on this slippery path which you now tread 
 so bravely." 
 
 At that moment a shrill scream of mortal 
 agony fell on their ears a cry of such terrible 
 heartrending misery, that Madame Moreau, 
 who recognized the voice, cried: 
 
 "Oh, poor Baptiste! Can no one save him? 
 Can no one draw him from that frightful pool !" 
 
 Had it not been for the Earl, she herself 
 would have rushed into danger, so strong was 
 her desire to assist in the rescue. Jock, who 
 was lighting the Count and his father, thrust 
 into the hand of Juvenal des Ursins the candle 
 which he was carrying. Before any one could 
 protest, he had thrown himself into the eddy 
 ing circle, which was the only trace that the 
 flickering light of the candles showed of where
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 277 
 
 poor Baptiste had gone down. Standing there 
 on this slippery steep, each held his breath, list 
 ening intently. Both Madame Moreau and 
 Lady Beatrice sent up a prayer that the two 
 men might be rescued from so terrible a fate. 
 
 Not a sign could be seen of either Jock or 
 Baptiste. The waters had covered them as 
 completely as though they had never been. At 
 last, after what seemed ages of waiting to all 
 but the Duke, who, impatient at their delay, was 
 muttering beneath his breath that they were 
 nothing but lackeys, Jock s head was seen above 
 the surface, then that of Baptiste. As soon as 
 the gallant yeoman could speak, he cried ener 
 getically : 
 
 "Go forward! I have hold of a strong iron 
 bar. Here I shall wait till you have passed, 
 lest by wetting the path more, I make it less 
 safe." 
 
 Lady Beatrice, pale, agitated, filled with fear 
 for the lad whom she had known from a child, 
 urged Simon to put her down that he might lend 
 Jock help. But he, like a Spartan of old, kept 
 firm to his duty. Not until they had passed 
 beneath the low archway and the pool had been 
 left behind; not until they at last stood in a 
 square vaulted chamber, did he release the hand 
 of the Count and hasten to his son s assistance. 
 Then with candle in hand, he trod with cautious 
 steps the shingly, slippery passage, finding Bap 
 tiste lying outstretched, held there by the firm 
 right arm of Jock, while Jock, half out of the 
 water, half in, awaited his father s return.
 
 278 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Together they were able to bear the apparently 
 lifeless form of the weak, shrinking creature, 
 to where Lady Beatrice was sitting with Ma 
 dame Moreau, in questioning suspense. Simon, 
 without more ado, turning him over on his face, 
 slapped his back so vigorously that the water 
 poured from his mouth and ears. Then he put 
 his lips the leathern flask which had done Jock 
 such good turns in the past. A swallow or more 
 of the generous red fluid ran down Baptiste s 
 throat. Baptiste opened his eyes to immediately 
 close them, crying: "Mow Dieu! I am dead." 
 
 "Not so," cried the old henchman in wrath, 
 angrily shaking him as a terrier would a rat. 
 "It s not so : yet t were a pity that more fools 
 like you were not drowned. Get on your feet, 
 man! Do you know you came near losing a 
 life well worth a dozen of yours?" 
 
 "Come," said the Duke, "we have waited 
 long. My patience is exhausted. Have you 
 forgotten that daylight is approaching? The 
 length of time we have been in this place ! Do 
 you want Madame Moreau and Lady Beatrice 
 to be seen by the spies of Monsieur Moreau 
 and the Due d Orleans. 
 
 "Be a man, Baptiste!" cried Jean, "for once 
 in your life, and come on or we shall have per 
 force to leave you behind." 
 
 Without more ado, the Duke strode rapidly 
 forward. Soon all reached a long flight of stairs 
 which, after a short halt, they climbed, and lo I 
 they were facing the square before the Hotel 
 d Artois ! In the east a narrow line of prim-
 
 THROUGH THE CATACOMBS UNDER PARIS 279 
 
 rose aroused them to the necessity of making 
 greater speed, lest the bright sun be upon them. 
 In such case, the prowlers of the night asleep in 
 the square, would wake to their presence. With 
 stealthy footsteps, each flitted in the order they 
 had taken through that horrible place, to a 
 small postern gate where the Duke, without 
 even stopping to knock or make any sound 
 which should denote his presence, pressed a 
 spring. As though opened by an unseen hand, 
 the great iron-clamped door was set wide and 
 into the narrow court-yard all passed, Baptiste 
 bringing up the rear. With a clang, the door 
 again fell to, its loud echoes waking more than 
 one sleeper in the neighborhood. 
 
 "Welcome, thrice welcome!" cried the Duke 
 hospitably. At that moment, as if to echo his 
 words, they heard the sweet notes of a nightin 
 gale. "Come in, one and all, and let us see 
 what we can find for cheer!" added the Duke 
 heartily. The door at the head of the steps 
 was flung wide by the lackeys who, having ob 
 served the approach of their lord, had not 
 waited for his knock. 
 
 As the Earl and Madame Moreau stepped 
 down upon the broad flag, the sun shot like a 
 meteor into the sky ; a great ball of palest amber, 
 seemingly suspended from the deep blue of the 
 zenith over their heads. As they crossed the 
 threshold, a glittering sunbeam fell between 
 them which they heralded as a promise for the 
 future !
 
 CHAPTEB XXXII. 
 
 A JOYOUS OCCASION AND AN UNTIMELY 
 INTERRUPTION 
 
 "As merry as the day is long." 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing. 
 "I dare do all that may become a man. 
 Who dares do more?" 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 "Oh, Lady Beatrice ! Lady Beatrice !" ex 
 claimed Bess agitatedly, with happy tears in her 
 eyes, rushing into the room where her young 
 mistress sat lost in blissful reverie of her lover, 
 the Comte. 
 
 "To think that miscreant that villian that 
 horrible ruffian, Captain Bertonner, should have 
 carried you away right from under the very 
 nose of your cousin Edward ! What could he 
 have been thinking of? Did you know he has 
 been ill ever since his return to Paris? How 
 good it seems to see you once more ! to be 
 near you! Did the rascal harm you? How 
 long since you made your escape? Tell me all 
 about it. The Duchess has been so cross, so 
 hateful forgive me I forgot she was related 
 to you, but I am so excited, Lady Beatrice, that 
 I do not heed what I am saying. Would you 
 mind if I kissed you?" 
 
 "Certainly not, Bess," replied her young mis 
 tress, half crying and almost as elated at the 
 280
 
 A JOYOUS OCCASION 281 
 
 sight of her handmaiden as was Bess herself. 
 "Certainly not, though perchance you had better 
 save it for Sir Harry Hastings or, well, no 
 matter. I will not tease you. I am as glad, 
 yes, as truly happy to see you, as you are to see 
 me. You asked if I were hurt and how long 
 since I made my escape. I will answer the last 
 question first. 
 
 "It was three weeks ago this very night when, 
 thoroughly frightened, I heard steps coming 
 toward the chamber where they hid me. I 
 heard men s voices and felt within my heart 
 such terror as I never knew before. When, lo 
 and behold! as the door opened, who should 
 enter but Raou Monsieur le Comte d Eper- 
 non, and behind him my father ! I was so 
 dazed, in such a state of horror at what I 
 thought must be my fate for I had made up 
 my mind to end life rather than meet with dis 
 honor that when Raou Comte d Epernon 
 cried, Lady Beatrice, here is your father! I 
 scarce took in his words till I felt about me my 
 father s loving arms felt a true heart beating 
 against my cheek, and realized that in my fa 
 ther s care I no longer had cause to fear. As 
 to being hurt, who would dare injure the grand 
 daughter of the Due de Berry?" 
 
 "So," said Bess, while an arch smile curved 
 the corners of her mouth and a mischievous 
 sprite danced in her great black eyes, "So it is 
 Raou Comte d Epernon, is it? I see! You 
 have been getting acquainted with the French 
 man since you left me. Do you call him Raoul,
 
 282 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 or Monsieur Raoul? No do not chide me: 
 just think of all I have suffered since that ter 
 rible night! Why, it seems to me as if I had 
 added ten years to my age !" 
 
 "You do indeed show the effects of weeping 
 and are paler than you used to be," replied her 
 young mistress, very glad to turn the subject. 
 "Now we are once more together ! Is not my 
 hair a fright! Can you realize that I have 
 done without a maid since I was forced to take 
 that mad ride with a cloak firmly drawn over 
 my head?" 
 
 "It looks very well, Lady Beatrice: yet, if 
 you do not mind and will slip on this sacque, 
 methinks I could improve it. Sit down here, 
 before this long mirror, and let me brush out 
 your golden hair which I feared I might never 
 brush again! 
 
 "Tell me all that has happened: where you 
 went; what he did; who came to your rescue; 
 what brought you here; why I was not sent 
 for before all this and as much more as you 
 can." 
 
 Like two happy children they laughed gaily 
 in concert. Then, doing as she was bid, Lady 
 Beatrice sat down in front of the great polished 
 steel which did service for a mirror, and with 
 a blush which had not left her face since Bess s 
 over-pressing question regarding the Count, she 
 asked what her grandmamma had said when 
 she found her missing. More than once their 
 merry laughter rang through the room as her 
 handmaiden described the anger of that good
 
 A JOYOUS OCCASION 283 
 
 dame, and the torrent of words directed against 
 Edward. 
 
 Bess was not to be easily turned from her 
 purpose, however. After answering as well as 
 she could her young mistress s questions, she 
 smiled knowingly to the image in the mirror, 
 asking blithely: 
 
 "Are you engaged to the Count?" 
 
 At that moment they heard a light tap on the 
 door and at Lady Beatrice s joyous "Come in!" 
 Bess, as the door opened, saw to her surprise 
 a young woman near her mistress s own age. 
 It was Madame Moreau. She wore a long robe 
 of maize colored silk, trimmed with frills of 
 priceless old lace. Her throat and wrists were 
 encircled by flashing emeralds and diamonds. 
 As she crossed to Lady Beatrice s side, Bess 
 wondered, "What beautiful creature is this?" 
 
 "I see," said Madame Moreau, "you have 
 your Bess once again." 
 
 "Yes, Irene; she was sore troubled and, to 
 please her, I slipped on this sacque. You see 
 what she had been doing." 
 
 "Have you told her, ma chere," asked Ma 
 dame Moreau, "what is about to take place." 
 
 "No," answered Lady Beatrice, her cheeks 
 growing more flushed, "I will leave that to you." 
 
 Bess, at that moment, glancing toward the 
 great canopied bed with its draperies of scarlet 
 velvet trimmed with tarnished gold lace, saw 
 spread upon it garments of such delicate love 
 liness that her young mistress s secret was re-
 
 284 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 vealed it needed no telling ! In a half grieved 
 tone, she said: 
 
 "You should have told me, then I would have 
 taken greater pains with your hair, knowing 
 that this was to be your wedding night. Now 
 do I understand why the Duchess was so diffi 
 cult to please. Why her jewels, her violet 
 velvet gown and the frills of her lace were to 
 be arranged with such care. I pitied Bertini 
 as she rolled the white masses over cushion and 
 puff, but nothing seemed to suit your grand- 
 dame. 
 
 "But, forgive me, Lady Beatrice, if I ask you 
 one question. Have you forgotten our talk in 
 the sylvan glade and what you said of love and 
 loving? But I will not complain, for I am glad 
 that the spark has set fire to the tow." 
 
 "You must not heed her, Irene. I have 
 spoiled her at least that s what my grand- 
 dame thinks. She is my foster-sister. As chil 
 dren we played together and I know, away 
 down in the bottom of her heart, in spite of 
 her whimseys and Sir Harry Hastings she 
 has a deep closet with a wide open door filled 
 to overflowing with love and respect for her 
 young mistress of Wotton." 
 
 When Bess had fastened to her satisfaction 
 Lady Beatrice s bodice, the veil and the beauti 
 ful jewels of pink pearls, a gift from the Count, 
 she and Madame Moreau drew to one side, the 
 better to note the effect. Admiring, praising, 
 extolling the delicate lace with its patterns of 
 rosebuds tied here and there with true lovers
 
 A JOYOUS OCCASION 285 
 
 knots; the long sweeping train of embroidered 
 white velvet; the satin petticoat worked with 
 seed pearls ; the close-fitting low-cut bodice that 
 set off her well-rounded figure and her bare 
 arms and neck white as any snowdrift; the long 
 filmy veil worn by three generations of de 
 Berrys, which fell in graceful folds from the 
 high-towering beautiful masses of golden hair, 
 they exclaimed in unison: 
 
 "It is perfect! it is perfect!" 
 
 As Bess was putting the last touches to her 
 young mistress s toilet, another knock came at 
 the door. When it was opened there, on the 
 threshold, urbane, smiling, with a tender love- 
 light in his eyes, stood the Earl. 
 
 "Are you ready, my daughter?" asked her 
 father who, as he stepped into the room, real 
 ized as never before her marvelous beauty. 
 "Can this be my little Beatrice, or is it some 
 lovely naiad who has left her sylvan stream? 
 Were it not for the roses in your cheeks and 
 the violets in your eyes, you would remind me 
 of the goddess of winter!" 
 
 "You are too flattering," cried Lady Bea 
 trice. "But perchance you feel the need of 
 keeping your hand in by practicing on me, lest 
 you should not find words sufficiently expressive 
 for other ears." 
 
 "You were ever a saucy minx!" laughed her 
 father. "What say you, Irene? Shall I chide 
 her or, as she is so soon to become a Countess, 
 mayhap it were better I should forbear."
 
 286 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "Yes, my lord. It seems to me it were best 
 that I withdraw. Were you my father I know 
 I should desire a few words with you alone, 
 before leaving your protection for another s. 
 Perchance, Bess, you will come with me, and 
 give my Annette a lesson in the art of dressing 
 hair." 
 
 In spite of earnest protestations Madame 
 Moreau left the Earl and his daughter, that 
 they might enjoy these last moments of her 
 girlhood in interchange of thought and in tender 
 recollections of that tie which had ever bound 
 them so closely together. 
 
 The great banqueting-hall was ablaze with 
 light. Myriads of tall candles in silver and 
 bronze sconces were fastened to the wall amid 
 banners and armor of ages long past. On a 
 dais, covered with a rich Eastern carpet, stood 
 the Duke of Burgundy and his son, Philip, the 
 Count of Charolais. 
 
 "Is it well, do you think, my father, for you 
 in these troublous days to take side against the 
 Dauphin? Surely our King should have been 
 consulted. Surely we owe to him that rever 
 ence even though at times his mental balance be 
 disturbed." 
 
 "Can you not understand, Philip, that time 
 was pressing? That I had, perforce, to leave 
 Paris?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord Duke, I have naught of which 
 to complain. You were ever a kind father to 
 me. I fear me much that it will foment more 
 trouble and strife between you and Due Charles
 
 A JOYOUS OCCASION 287 
 
 d Orleans, with his proud father-in-law, Ber 
 nard d Armagnac urging him on!" 
 
 The chaplain of the Hotel d Artois, with the 
 archbishop, entering just then, Duke John left 
 his son to entertain them while he strode down 
 the long hall with that masterful tread that 
 marked him a leader of men. Through the 
 opposite doorway came the Due de Berry and 
 his Duchess, with Edward of Brentwood and 
 Aleck of Kent. Philip hastened with warm 
 words of greeting to his great-uncle s side, say 
 ing genially: 
 
 "It is long since I have had the pleasure of 
 meeting with either of you. Sit down on the 
 dais, and prithee excuse me for a moment while 
 I hasten to welcome Comte Raoul d Epernon, 
 whom I see approaching." 
 
 Joyous, expectant, smiling, resplendent in 
 white and gold, Raoul came up the room with 
 our kind friend, Juvenal des Ursins, leaving 
 in the doorway old Simon and Jock, whom 
 Lady Beatrice had insisted should be invited to 
 the wedding. Scarce had the Count greeted his 
 friends when the doors of the main entrance 
 were thrown open and all eyes were turned that 
 way, as Duke John of Burgundy, with Madame 
 Moreau on his arm, crossed the threshold. Fol 
 lowing them was the Earl with his daughter, his 
 face lighted with loving pride as he noted the 
 queenly poise of her head and her dainty beauty. 
 One would scarce have taken him to be her 
 father, so buoyant, so youthful, so gladsome 
 was his mien.
 
 288 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 As the old Duke looked at them, he thought 
 of the daughter whom, years before, he had 
 given to this man, and a tender light came into 
 his eyes, a warm feeling about the heart, as 
 he realized the nobility of nature, the parent s 
 devotion that the Earl had always shown. With 
 fingers trembling with age, he touched the arm 
 of the Duchess, saying in a half suppressed 
 whisper : 
 
 "Does not that bring back to you your youth ? 
 Do you remember?" 
 
 Her eyes, usually so filled with pride, disdain 
 and hauteur, now held an expression more 
 womanly, more loving than the Duke had seen 
 in them for years. 
 
 Comte d Epernon, who had been watching 
 the approach of what to him was the fairest 
 of women, marvelled that such transcendent 
 loveliness could be hers. Feeling as if in a 
 dream of exquisite happiness, he found him 
 self dreading lest something should occur to 
 dispel it. 
 
 The Earl had given away his daughter and 
 with bowed heads, the Count and Lady Bea 
 trice were receiving the last benediction of the 
 church, when a loud clamor was heard at the 
 outer door, a noise so disturbing, so resonant, 
 so menacing, that for the moment more than 
 one cheek turned pale. Bess and Annette, who 
 were not standing with Simon and Jock, ex 
 claimed in great horror and fear: 
 
 "What can it be? Who is it?"
 
 A JOYOUS OCCASION 289 
 
 As if in answer to their questions a man, the 
 very embodiment of avenging wrath, pushed 
 them rudely aside, crying : 
 
 "I stop the banns! I am Monsieur Moreau!" 
 
 Duke John of Burgundy, his brow black as a 
 thunder-cloud, his eyes emitting lightning-like 
 glances, cried in fierce temper : 
 
 "Who dared give you admittance to Hotel 
 d Artois, you scum of the earth ! Be he gentle 
 or simple, a Burgundian or I care not who, he 
 shall pay the penalty with his life ! Get you 
 gone! This is no place for such as you!" 
 
 "Not so fast! not so fast!" cried Monsieur 
 Moreau. "Do you think there are no laws in 
 France that protect a husband? You are not 
 the King! In my pocket I hold my sovereign s 
 commission to seek for Madame Moreau wher 
 ever she be, and to take her even though royalty 
 itself was shielding her." 
 
 "And dare you bandy words with me, you 
 vile wretch ? Pollute the presence of my friends, 
 my guests, and these purest of women? Think 
 you to stay, when I bid you begone ? What ho ! 
 there, ho, you laggards !" 
 
 Scurrying feet were heard through the hall, 
 each man anxious to be first to do the will of 
 his Lord, for well they knew that before the 
 night was past more than one head would pay 
 forfeit for the entrance of Monsieur Moreau. 
 
 "Take this man from the room, and mark 
 you, fasten him well in the dungeon under the 
 keep!"
 
 290 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "The King s commission!" screamed Mon 
 sieur Moreau. "The King s commission ! Dare 
 you, Due John of Burgundy, defy the King? 
 Defy Charles the Sixth?" 
 
 "Yes: I dare do anything! Why bandy 
 words? Take him away, and if you be not 
 quick, and if he escape, each man shall rue the 
 day he was born!" 
 
 Kicking, screeching, foaming at the mouth 
 with impotent rage, Monsieur Moreau was car 
 ried forcibly from the room. Then Duke John, 
 as though nothing had happened to disturb the 
 tranquility of the scene, turned to the archbis 
 hop, saying calmly : 
 
 "Methinks, my lord, you had not finished the 
 benediction." 
 
 When the happy pair had received the con 
 gratulations of their friends, and when they 
 were about to sit down to the great table which 
 had been spread with wine and good cheer, 
 once more there came a loud noise, a ham 
 mering at the outer door, and high above the 
 din was heard a voice shouting fiercely: 
 
 "Open in the name of the King! Open!" 
 
 "It seems," said Duke John facetiously, 
 "that we are to have more guests at our ban 
 quet than we had reason to expect. But it shall 
 never be said that any one coming to the Hotel 
 d Artois was turned back, through fear of there 
 not being sufficient to satisfy all. Mayhap those 
 who are banging and battering for admittance, 
 have not come to sit down at the festal board, 
 but on some 1 other less pleasant mission. Come
 
 A JOYOUS OCCASION 291 
 
 they as friends they are welcome ! Come they 
 as foes, they shall find that the teeth of Bur 
 gundy can bite through even that which is less 
 toothsome than well-cooked fowl and pasties. 
 
 ."What ho ! what ho !" cried he to his lackeys ; 
 "who is this knocking with such urgent need, 
 shouting in the King s name, lest they be not 
 bidden to cross the threshold of Hotel d Artois? 
 Find out their errand. Speed quickly and bring 
 back to me their number, their mission and the 
 name of their leader." 
 
 Swiftly they ran to the door and as quickly 
 returned. At a signal from his lord the old 
 major-domo, with trembling steps, entered the 
 room and, with a low bow, waited for his 
 master to speak. 
 
 "Out with it, man, out with it! This is no 
 time for mummery. What have you learned? 
 Is it, as I suspected, Due Charles d Orleans with 
 that firebrand, his wife s father? If so, what 
 does he want? What is his following? Are 
 they well armed, or have they come as guests 
 to the wedding?" 
 
 "You are right, my Lord Duke," said the 
 aged retainer in quavering tones. "You are 
 right. It is Due Charles d Orleans. But the 
 one who demands admittance is a man much 
 older than he and said, as I asked him his 
 errand: Tell your master, Due John of Bur 
 gundy, we have come for the ward of the King, 
 and for the English maid that he filched from 
 us; also for himself! We hold a commission 
 signed by Charles the Sixth for his arrest, and
 
 292 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 bid him remember that, in spite of his men-at- 
 arms and his lackeys, we hold a warrant for 
 both Madame Moreau and Lady Beatrice of 
 Wotton, subscribed to and sealed by the King s 
 own hand! " 
 
 "And what did you tell him?" asked the 
 Duke in a tone so low and even that those who 
 did not know him well, marvelled at his calm 
 ness. 
 
 "I said, my lord, that I would tell you." 
 
 "That is well. You could do no less no 
 more. Send Captain Barbados to me no, stay, 
 I will go to him myself; that is, if my friends 
 will excuse me. Philip, take my place at the 
 head of the table, and do not tarry for me. 
 Drink, eat and be merry! I fear not Comte 
 Bernard d Armagnac, nor the Due d Orleans!" 
 
 Then without a look to the right or the left, 
 with bent brows and teeth firmly shut, his 
 massive jaw indicative of his iron will, his 
 right hand clenched on the hilt of his sword, 
 Duke John of Burgundy hastened from the 
 great hall.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION OF A 
 PERPLEXING PROBLEM 
 
 "The true beginning of our end." 
 
 A Midsummer Night s Dream. 
 "He hath indeed better bettered expectation." 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing. 
 "O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful 
 wonderful! and yet again wonderful." 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 "Come, my friends, come!" said Philip cheer 
 ily, "let us follow my father s advice. The 
 Duke has no fear of those who are clamoring 
 at the door, and I see no reason why we should 
 not eat, drink and be merry." 
 
 "If you, my lord, will excuse me," said Ju 
 venal des Ursins, "I will go to your father, lest 
 he, in ignorance of the law, should do that 
 which is rash. Methinks I might point out a 
 way by which all trouble and all danger of 
 molestation could be avoided." 
 
 "Then go, by all means!" exclaimed Comte 
 Philip, eagerly. "Go by all means, and we will 
 save you a bottle of sack, also a venison pasty, 
 which, if I remember rightly, is your favorite." 
 
 "Then au revoir, for a season," cried Juvenal 
 des Ursins cheerily. "Be not cast down. I 
 hold in my hand the card that shall trump!" 
 
 Outside the din was growing louder, the de 
 mands for admittance more shrill, persistent 
 
 293
 
 294 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 and threatening. At the table jest and laughter 
 were tossed about as though the confusion and 
 the noise were but strains of sweet music. 
 
 When Juvenal des Ursins joined Duke John 
 of Burgundy in the low-ceiled room where he 
 had waited that memorable night in October, 
 he found him striding to and fro like a caged 
 lion, talking to his Captain. 
 
 "Who is it?" cried the Duke, hearing a step 
 cross the threshold. "Oh, it is you ! Perhaps, 
 my Advocate-General, your advice will keep me 
 from bloodshed, a thing which I would not 
 mind were it not of ill omen to the bride." 
 
 "Bloodshed!" exclaimed Juvenal des Ursins 
 in horror. "Bloodshed! and Lady Beatrice 
 scarce wedded? What are you thinking of, 
 man? Send for old Simon and his son Jock 
 or, stay let me have Madame s man, Jean. 
 I need no more. By parley, by fair words, by 
 cajolery I care not what you say to those 
 who are knocking at the door but keep them 
 waiting two hours at the most; then, when I give 
 the signal, open the door wide and, if I mistake 
 not, they will draw back like whipped curs ! 
 Trust me. I know whereof I speak." 
 
 "That is too good to be true!" cried Duke 
 John. "How can you bring this about? Give 
 me but an inkling, just one word, and I will 
 keep them kicking their heels and banging at 
 my door, for a week!" 
 
 "I will tell you I will whisper in your ear, 
 lest the walls hear and balk my plan."
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION 295 
 
 "You need not mind Captain Barbados I" ex 
 claimed the Duke. "He is a Burgundian of 
 Burgundy; as staunch, as true and as fearless, 
 as Duke John himself !" 
 
 The old Captain s face flushed a deep red. 
 He held his head stiffly erect, his eyes looking 
 square at his Lord s and, in a deep bass voice 
 which made him rumble out his words, he said 
 emphatically : 
 
 "None can be truer, my lord, to the House 
 of Burgundy, than Hannibal Barbados !" 
 
 "I do not doubt it," cried Juvenal des Ursins 
 heartily. "I do not doubt it ! It was not you 
 I feared and when I have explained to the 
 Duke, he will understand." 
 
 In a half dozen words he whispered in the 
 Duke s ear that which made the Duke laugh 
 uproariously. He brought his clenched fist 
 down on the table near by with such force that 
 the solid wood rang. Then, when he could get 
 his breath and his voice sufficiently under con 
 trol, the Duke exclaimed triumphantly: 
 
 "What ho, what ho ! Come quickly, ye 
 knaves! Where is Jean? Send him here. We 
 want him at once!" 
 
 His voice reached the door of the banquet 
 ing hall, so resonant that Jean hastened without 
 delay across the intervening hall to the door 
 of the anteroom where, pushing the heavy tapes 
 try aside, he said with a low bow: 
 
 "I am here, my lord!" 
 
 "Ah, ma foil" exclaimed Juvenal des Ursins 
 animatedly. "You are always on hand like a
 
 296 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 jack-in-the-box. It is not the Duke that needs 
 you, but I. Hasten to put on the darkest clothes 
 you have, and bring for me a long cloak with 
 which to cover this wedding apparel. Have 
 Jock fetch three large torches so that we may 
 go hence without delay. There s need of speed." 
 
 With another bow, Jean sped away, and 
 before Duke John had finished giving his in 
 structions to the Captain, he was again at the 
 door, saying in a voice half breathless as he 
 threw a dark cloak around the shoulders of 
 the Advocate-General : 
 
 "You see, sir, I am ready!" 
 
 "Open, open, you knaves ! Is not your Duke 
 here?" cried the voice of Comte Bernard 
 d Armagnac. "Know you not that every one 
 of you will be hanged, drawn and quartered, 
 stretched on the rack, tested on the wheel, put 
 to question, if you fling not the door wide? I 
 hold a commission from the King a warrant 
 for your Lord s arrest! If you do our bidding 
 at once, not one shall be harmed, but if at this 
 door we tarry much longer, it shall be battered 
 down, and when our men once enter the place, 
 then look to yourselves, for those who are not 
 killed on the spot shall suffer such torture as 
 man has never dreamt of before!" 
 
 Then it was that clear above the voice of even 
 Comte Bernard himself, rose that of Duke John 
 and, in spite of all his intentions to speak them 
 fair, it had a ring of defiance. 
 
 "Hark you, Duke Charles d Orleans, and 
 you, Comte Bernard d Armagnac, what mean
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION 297 
 
 you by this clatter? One would think that all 
 the canaille of Paris were let loose. Is this 
 the way to come to the Hotel d Artois as wed 
 ding guests ? It s a pity you are so late and that 
 the fastenings are out of gear, so you cannot be 
 readily admitted to the marriage feast: but if 
 you will know we are doing all we can to loose 
 the key in the lock and the extra bolts from 
 the door. My knaves were so anxious, so fear 
 ful and mistrustful of danger that they tried a 
 new way to make things secure. So successful 
 have they been that it is only by chisel and 
 mallet, by patience long-drawn-out, that the 
 doors can be opened either for your coming in 
 of my going out ! 
 
 "But you, Comte Bernard, with your pa"rty, 
 while waiting so inhospitably, as it may seem 
 on the wrong side of the portal, might read the 
 commission that you hold for my arrest, with 
 the warrants for the two fairest of women. 
 Perchance you can tell me where may be found 
 the Due de Berry!" 
 
 "What! are not the Due and Duchess 
 within?" exclaimed Comte d Armagnac in in 
 tense surprise. "We were told that they had 
 joined you three hours agone, with the two 
 English lads ; also that you received a visit from 
 Monsieur Moreau whose devotion, peradven- 
 ture, chafing at our delay, urged him to haste 
 swift of foot to Madame, that he might the 
 sooner enjoy her loving caresses! As he has 
 not been seen to leave the Hotel d Artois, we 
 feared foul play.
 
 298 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 "If you wish to hear the commission for 
 your arrest, and the warrants we hold, and 
 cannot admit us until your knaves unfasten the 
 door, I will read them here, and perchance it 
 may quicken their hands, give strength to their 
 arms; and you may by that time deem it best to 
 have the bolts slipped back and a way made 
 clear for the carrying out of the King s will !" 
 
 Then in a voice so loud that even those in the 
 banqueting hall were able to distinctly hear 
 every word through the wide open grill, Comte 
 Bernard d Armagnac read both the commission 
 and the warrants. Scarcely had his voice ceased, 
 when, at a signal from Duke John, his men 
 hammered at the door as though impatient to 
 unloose the bars that they might admit them. 
 So loud was the noise of mallet and hammer, 
 so deafening the sound, that it drowned the 
 voices of the Duke of Orleans and the Count of 
 Armagnac. As they heard the rattle of chisel 
 and dull thud of mallet striking against the iron 
 clamps of the door, their suspicions were in 
 part overcome. In the meantime, Captain 
 Barbedos carried out to the letter Duke John s 
 directions. He had gathered his men-at-arms, 
 over a hundred, into the great entrance hall, 
 where he formed them into a wedge. Simon 
 and Jock, with Sandy, now the proud husband 
 of Annette, stood just inside the door of the 
 banqueting hall, ready to sell their lives dearly 
 before any one should touch a finger to their 
 mistress. More than once, in the midst of the 
 confusion, Jock s eyes sought those of Bess, and
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION 299 
 
 although she tossed her head in the old saucy 
 manner, yet Simon, who was watching them, 
 knew that they but awaited their return to 
 Wotton to become man and wife. Long before 
 the time had elapsed which Juvenal des Ursins 
 had thought essential for the carrying out of 
 his plan, Duke John was at his wits end to 
 devise means whereby to delay without blood 
 shed the entrance of Due Charles and Comte 
 d Armagnac. Yet so fertile was he of resource 
 that on one pretense or another by question 
 ing the right of the King, the commission, the 
 authenticity of the signature, the warrants, the 
 rights of Monsieur Moreau, he not only gained 
 time but succeeded by tone and word in convey 
 ing to those outside the impression that, in the 
 end, for once in his life, he would bow to the 
 law. 
 
 They were little used to hearing him parley, 
 knowing that it was his custom to strike the 
 blow first. This gave them confidence and made 
 them more willing to wait till the signal agreed 
 upon between Juvenal des Ursins and Duke 
 John, was given. Even then Duke John bade 
 his lackeys refrain from opening the door till 
 after he joined the Advocate-General in his pri 
 vate room at the side of the great banqueting 
 hall, and arranged more fully the denouement. 
 He came back once more to where Captain 
 Barbedos was standing, and said : 
 
 "Change the position of your men. Let them 
 form a half circle around the carpeted dais, 
 three abreast, and mark me, not until I cry
 
 300 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Tor Burgundy! let man dare lift his finger to 
 attack." 
 
 Then he whispered a few words to Simon, 
 whose face became radiant, and seeing that all 
 was to his liking, he bade the lackeys leave the 
 hall, except the major-domo who, at his signal, 
 threw open the door. 
 
 "Welcome!" cried Duke John of Burgundy. 
 "Welcome to Hotel d Artois ! Pardon me for 
 keeping you waiting so long, Due Charles, and 
 you, Comte Bernard d Armagnac. Come in 
 with your gentlemen yes, your men-at-arms, if 
 they can find room, and after you have saluted 
 the bride then, Comte d Armagnac, if you can 
 prove to me that you have a right to take me 
 in charge, upon the word of John of Burgundy, 
 you shall find me as willing to go with you as 
 your favorite hound! Come in; do not tarry. 
 This, also, would I add: 
 
 "That I fear me Monsieur Moreau has re 
 ceived somewhat rough treatment at my hands. 
 He prated of a commission from the King, but 
 I ne er could bide the man nor his words, so I 
 had him placed in the keep, under ward and 
 key. But let s forego all explanation till you 
 have saluted the bride!" 
 
 With looks of amazement as well as of in 
 credulity at this seeming change in Duke John 
 of Burgundy, they followed him, well escorted 
 by their men-at-arms, down the long entrance 
 hall, beneath floating pennants from wall to 
 ceiling: down the great banqueting room, till 
 they stood scarce six feet from the carpeted dais
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION 301 
 
 on which sat the wedding party with Comte 
 Philip of Charolais at their head. The guests 
 rose at their entrance, and now Comte Philip, 
 in his youth and beauty, exclaimed cheerfully, as 
 he held up a beaker of wine : 
 
 "Let me too, welcome you, my cousin, and 
 drink to your health and that of the Comte Ber 
 nard d Armagnac! But first let me present to 
 you the Earl of Wotton and his Countess, whom 
 you doubtless remember as Madame Moreau. 
 And here is the newly wedded pair, Comte 
 Raoul d Epernon, and she who was Lady Beat 
 rice of Wotton. 
 
 "You see we are a merry party. Scarce two 
 weeks ago was the Earl married, and now his 
 daughter has followed his example." 
 
 At that moment, rushing down the hall, came 
 Monsieur Moreau, crying vehemently : 
 "It is bigamy! It is bigamy!" 
 
 Out flashed his sword, while his black eyes 
 glittered as keen as its blade, as he lunged at the 
 Earl. 
 
 But, rapid as had been its thrust, more swift 
 had been the arm of old Simon. His hand like 
 a grip of steel caught Monsieur Moreau s wrist, 
 and with a twist which crunched every bone, he 
 drew him back without a word, from the steps 
 of the dais. 
 
 "That is well!" cried Duke John of Bur 
 gundy. "Surely the man must be mad. Keep 
 him in your ward, Simon Lapland, for fear my 
 men spit him on the spot. I would fain avoid
 
 302 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 bloodshed lest I bring sorrow to sup with my 
 cousin, the Countess d Epernon." 
 
 "But," exclaimed Duke Charles of Orleans, 
 growing purple with anger, "do you mean to say 
 that this English lord has married Monsieur 
 Moreau s lawful wife? Was he not aware that 
 she had been wedded before?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Duke John very courteously. 
 "It was all explained to him, if I mistake not, 
 seven days back long ere I returned with 
 Philip, the Comte of Charolais from the Castle 
 of Aire. The Earl with radiant face, as youth 
 ful and blithesome of bearing as Comte d Eper 
 non himself, met me with the words, Irene is 
 my wife ! Of what use would have been advice 
 then, when already he had taken the irrevocable 
 step which linked her life to his. He wrote to 
 his King, Henry the Fifth, full particulars, and 
 received from him the promise of a royal greet 
 ing for her whom he had chosen. 
 
 "To-night, just as you knocked at the door, 
 the archbishop yonder, with hands spread in 
 benediction over the heads of Comte Raoul 
 d Epernon and my cousin, Lady Beatrice of 
 Wotton, was pronouncing them man and wife. 
 This was done with my connivance, if you will 
 and, as you see, with that of the Due and 
 Duchesse de Berry." 
 
 "But you asked, scarce a half hour ago," 
 exclaimed Comte Bernard d Armagnac harshly, 
 "if we would send a message to the Due, while 
 all the time you knew he was here !"
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION 303 
 
 Then, as his suspicions rose higher and 
 higher, he cried to Duke Charles even more 
 fiercely than before: 
 
 "Can you not see that we have fallen into a 
 trap ? Can you not see these men-at-arms wait 
 ing to cut us down as we stand here? Are you 
 going to listen to specious words, or are you 
 going to carry out your commission, your war 
 rant, and take, even though it be in the very 
 jaws of death, not only the Due of Burgundy, 
 but these women who claim to be married?" 
 
 "Yes, verily!" replied Duke Charles. "Ho! 
 you my men, fill up this hall, and if you see one 
 of the Burgundians but raise his hand, then mow 
 him down as though he was grain ready for the 
 reaper. I will teach them that, when I come in 
 the King s name to do his bidding, not even the 
 retainers of Burgundy can withstand my 
 demands. You, Duke John, have given us your 
 word of honor to go willingly with us without 
 let or hindrance. Methinks I saw, as I entered, 
 two maids. Where are they?" 
 
 "Perhaps you may mean me," replied Bess 
 pertly, as she came forward, sweeping a curtsy, 
 an excellent imitation of Madame Moreau s. 
 "If so, what is your pleasure?" 
 
 "My pleasure!" repeated the Duke of 
 Orleans. "I will teach you later. Now go and 
 fetch two long cloaks, one for your lady, the 
 other for Madame Moreau and, at the same 
 time, one for yourself. We have not come here 
 for feasting, but to carry out the will of the
 
 304 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 King. Make haste, lest you feel my dis 
 pleasure!" 
 
 "But," said Duke John of Burgundy, "surely 
 you do not intend taking from the Hotel 
 d Artois to wrench from the Earl and the 
 Comte, their scarcely wedded wives ! Think, 
 man, how you would feel if one should take the 
 Comte Bernard s daughter from you ! What 
 you would suffer; how you would long to pos 
 sess her; what efforts you would make to retain 
 her ! Forget not, as you dwell on the love you 
 have for your Duchesse !" 
 
 With every word that Duke John uttered, 
 with every glance of his eye which seemed to 
 point his remarks, Duke Charles choleric 
 temper rose and rose until, at last, like a pot 
 filled with water above a too hot fire, it boiled 
 over, and impetuous words fairly dashed against 
 each other in their mad desire for utterance. 
 
 "Coward! Knave! Dastard! Murderer 
 of my father! Slanderer of women! Vile 
 spawn of the Queen ! Do you think I will stand 
 here longer to be cheated, to be scoffed at, by 
 such as you? Not I. If you do not keep your 
 word: do not come at the King s behest, and 
 those painted Jezebels yonder are not imme 
 diately given into my care, you shall learn how 
 heavy can be the hand of the Due Charles 
 d Orleans, the avenger of his father! Take 
 heed, for even you, Due John of Burgundy, 
 have come to the end of your tether !" 
 
 "Say you so?" exclaimed the Duke, his flash 
 ing eyes speaking the fierce anger which he still
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION 305 
 
 held in check. "Say you so? And what think 
 you, Due Charles, I shall be at while you, with 
 your minions, are doing your worst? But stay, 
 be not too hasty, lest you repent it. Make your 
 men stand back. They are crowding all too 
 fast. As I have said before, I would avoid 
 bloodshed. If ten minutes hence you still make 
 your demands, by my troth, by all that I hold 
 the most sacred in heaven or in earth, I will go 
 with you as willing, as docile as an innocent 
 lamb to the slaughter. Make your men stand 
 back, I say! You can depend on my word." 
 
 With an imperious gesture, Comte Bernard 
 d Armagnac bade his men-at-arms draw ten 
 paces backward where, with gleaming eyes and 
 each right foot well advanced, like wild beasts 
 ready to spring at his bidding, they halted. 
 
 "Will not you, Due Charles, and you, Comte 
 d Armagnac, sit at table during this ten minutes 
 and take a glass of wine?" asked Duke John, 
 apparently forgetting that there were aught but 
 the friendliest relations existing between them. 
 
 "No!" exclaimed the Duke of Orleans bit 
 terly, "I prefer standing! I care not to break 
 bread with the assassin of my father!" 
 
 Once again with flashing eyes and lips tightly 
 compressed, Duke John of Burgundy faced 
 Duke Charles. Then with a smile, half sar 
 donic, half triumphant, he said in a ringing 
 voice : 
 
 "As you will!" 
 
 As though these words were a signal to unlock 
 the door opposite to where they were standing,
 
 306 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 a signal to draw back the heavy portiere which 
 covered the entrance, Jock, with one vigorous 
 thrust of his lusty young arm, threw back the 
 tapestry, opened wide the door there, to the 
 surprise of all and the consternation of many, 
 framed in by the lintels of the door, stood 
 Charles the Sixth, King of France ! Behind 
 him were the Dauphin and the Advocate- 
 General, gracious, smiling. Every breath was 
 drawn with such a quick, sudden intake that it 
 produced a sound similar to the bow of a violin 
 drawn across its strings before tuning. 
 
 As the King, with majestic mien, his face 
 lighted with the intelligence and kindliness 
 which were its natural expression, attended by 
 Prince Louis and Juvenal des Ursins, stepped 
 into their midst, all instinctively felt that some 
 how the solution of the problem was at hand. 
 
 "I see," said the King, acknowledging with a 
 genial smile the low obeisance of those about 
 him, "that there has been some mistake. Per 
 chance if I signed these papers, as it is said I 
 have, it must have been when, with cloudy brain, 
 I lay on the bed of sickness. Scarce an hour 
 ago, when Juvenal des Ursins, the Advocate- 
 General, explained to me the peculiar situation 
 here at the Hotel d Artois, I did not wait for 
 him to ask me to join you, but bade my valet 
 make haste lest I should be too late, and that 
 there should ensue unnecessary spilling of blood. 
 
 "Where is the man that claims the Countess 
 of Wotton as his wife? Let him step for 
 ward!"
 
 THE SURPRISING SOLUTION 307 
 
 Simon released the arm which hung limp at 
 Monsier Moreau s side and he, with face upon 
 which every evil passion was written, his eyes 
 denoting physical suffering, his cheeks pale with 
 the pain that his wrist was giving him, bent his 
 knee to the King. 
 
 "So, it is you!" exclaimed Charles the Sixth, 
 a look of disgust flitting across his face. "You, 
 who have the temerity to claim the Countess of 
 Wotton as your lawfully wedded wife 1 You, 
 who with vile intent, have driven her from one 
 end of France to the other, knowinig all the time 
 that Due John of Burgundy had made a grave 
 mistake; that the novice who went through the 
 mock ceremony was not the monk that he sup 
 posed him to be, but his brother ! And this, 
 Queen Isabel tells me, you have known for 
 almost a year ! Still you have not relinquished 
 your pursuit, your tyranny, your traitorous 
 effort to defile a ward of the King. Were it not 
 that I am loath to mar this wedding feast with 
 a sentence of death, I would bid Due John of 
 Burgundy s lackeys hang you forthwith! If, in 
 a month from now, I hear of you in France, 
 even to the farthest part of my kingdom, I will 
 have you not only hanged, but quartered. Get 
 you gone! The very sight of you stirs up my 
 wrath." 
 
 Then turning to the Earl of Wotton, he said 
 in low tones, full of music and kindness : 
 
 "You see that in following the instincts of 
 your nature you have married, with the dispen 
 sation of the Pope and with the sanction of
 
 308 CONQUERORS ALL 
 
 Charles the Sixth, not Madame Moreau, but 
 Irene de Chaillot, the ward of the King. As 
 for you, Comte d Epernon, you have ever gal 
 lantly fought for your sovereign, as did your 
 forebears before you. Perchance you will not 
 object to my kissing your bride, and giving into 
 her keeping this small token of the friendship 
 of your King!" 
 
 Lady Beatrice, smiling, blushing and won 
 drous beautiful to look upon, was led by her 
 husband to his majesty. When she would have 
 knelt, he said gently : 
 
 "No : not so, my daughter ! I would but steal 
 a kiss from your delicately tinted cheek, leaving 
 your lips to your liege lord. May you be as 
 happy and continue as pure, as good and as lov 
 ing as one can read in your face you are at 
 present. 
 
 "And now that all mistakes have been 
 righted; send your men, Nephew Charles, from 
 the hall and from the Hotel d Artois. Bid them 
 wait where you will. It were well for you and 
 the Comte d Armagnac to join your King who, 
 with the Dauphin, has accepted Duke John s 
 kind invitation to the wedding feast. And let 
 us, and all the world, strive to overcome that 
 which is unforgiving in our natures. Let us 
 remember that in spite of ignorance and mis 
 takes, in spite of bitter experience, the Infinite 
 God, out of His great love for all mankind, has 
 now, through our own earnest efforts, through 
 our own faith and trust, made us conquerors." 
 
 THE END
 
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