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 A Gentleman from Gascony
 
 A Gentleman from Gascony 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE HUGUENOTS 
 
 By BICKNELL DUDLEY 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1895, 
 By STREET & SMITH
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTBR PAGE 
 
 I. THE LAST OF His RAO, . . . . . 7 
 
 II. SHADOWS BEFORE, . . . . . 16 
 
 III. GABRIELLE, ....30 
 
 IV. THE WHITE BADGE, ...... 39 
 
 V. BORROWED PLUMES, . . ... 51 
 
 VI. A DANGEROUS GAME, ...... 63 
 
 VII. FROM FAILURE SUCCESS ! ..... 76 
 
 VIII. THE EVE OF SAINT BARTHOLOMEW, ... 86 
 
 IX. THE DEATH KNELL, ...... 91 
 
 X. THE ASSASSINATION OF COLIGNV, ... 97 
 
 XI. THE KING'S PHYSICIAN, ..... 103 
 
 XII. AT THE SIGN OF THE GREEN DRAGON, . . in 
 XIII. A DUEL WITH SWORD AND DAGGER, . . .121 
 
 XIV. A PORT IN A STORM, . ... 127 
 
 XV. MADAME LA DUCHESSB, . . * . 135 
 
 XVI. IN FROCK AND COWL, ...... 147 
 
 XVII. "I EXACT THE PRICE OF BLOOD!* . . .159 
 
 XVIII. BY GRACE OF GOD, KINO OF FRANCE, . . 169 
 
 XIX. BENEATH THE SHADOW OF THE AXE, . . . 176 
 
 XX. BY ROYAL COMMAND, ...... 189 
 
 XXI. RAOUL TO THE RESCUEI ..... 199 
 
 XXII. CAUGHT IN THE TOILS, . . ... . 210 
 
 XXIII. THE CLOSED DOOR, 218 
 
 XXIV. 'TWIXT HAMMER AND ANVIL, .... 231 
 
 XXV. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT, . . . . . 242 
 
 XXVI. BELOW THE QUEEN'S BALCONY, .... 252 
 
 XXVII. "THE KING OF NAVARRE is HERE!" . .260 
 
 XXVIII. LOVE THE CONQUEROR! 272 
 
 XXIX. "THERE is A WEAPON 1 DEFEND YOURSELF I" . 283 
 
 XXX. WON AT LAST, 292 
 
 2135187
 
 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE HUGUENOTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 
 
 " MORDIOU, I must do it ! It is the only chance left 
 me now!" 
 
 And, with a sigh, the young Chevalier de Puycadere 
 glanced sorrowfully up at the ancient pile before him. 
 
 There was a time once, in the days of the second 
 Henry of blessed memory, when the chateau de Puy- 
 cadere had haughtily upreared its castellated head, as 
 if in proud consciousness that it was one of the most 
 magnificent habitations in Gascony, if not in all of 
 France. 
 
 But alas, like the noble family whose name it bore, 
 how were its glories faded! 
 
 Its walls were crumbling, its battlements and towers 
 almost in ruins, its windows broken and gaping in 
 fact, its whole appearance well-nigh disreputable save 
 where the thick ivy had thrown a generous mantle of 
 charity over its vanished splendor. 
 
 Of all the wide domains that had once surrounded it, 
 like vassals about their suzerain, there now remained 
 to the last scion of the Puycaderes but a few wretched 
 acres, uncultivated, neglected, forlorn.
 
 8 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 Wars, confiscations, and persecutions had robbed the 
 former and the present owner of this once fair estate of 
 almost all their possessions. Huguenots the Puycaderes 
 had always been. Huguenots they would remain ! And, 
 with the Catholic party so long in the ascendant, their 
 devotion to their cause had proved their worldly ruin. 
 
 Yet very dear to the eyes of their master were those 
 impoverished lands, with their tangle of foliage, where 
 the flowers in their crimson and purple and gold strove 
 to throw off the choking grasp of the invading weeds, 
 all illumined now as they were by the August sunlight, 
 vivid, gorgeous, resplendent. 
 
 But if the chateau and grounds were marked with 
 every sign of downfall and decay, so was not their 
 owner, the last representative of his race. 
 
 In this month of August, 1572, Raoul de Puycadere 
 was in the full flush of youth, strength, and manly 
 beauty. His figure was lithe but muscular. A profu- 
 sion of reddish-brown hair escaped from beneath his 
 slouch hat. His complexion was bronzed, a small mus- 
 tache shaded a beautifully cut mouth, full of white teeth, 
 and his large eyes were gray, save in moments of ex- 
 citement when they sparkled so fiercely that they seemed 
 almost black. 
 
 His dress showed the decayed gentleman. His doub- 
 let and the short cloak worn jauntily over one shoulder 
 had originally been of fine quality, but were now 
 frayed, faded, and patched; his broad-brimmed hat 
 with its drooping feathers showed marked signs of wind 
 and weather, and the long boots of untanned leather 
 which reached far above the knees could have been 
 rendered more serviceable by a cobbler's skilful hand. 
 
 "Yes," he repeated aloud, as if apostrophizing the 
 gray walls, " the die is cast. When I see thee again, if
 
 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 9 
 
 ever, home of my ancestors, thou shalt receive a garb 
 more worthy of thy dignity." 
 
 And he laughed merrily at the conceit. The hopes 
 of youth are hard to smother. It is only in the pathway 
 of the old that the wall of despair rises, dark and im- 
 penetrable in its strength. 
 
 The echoes of the young chevalier's laughter had 
 scarce died away when round the house, from the weed- 
 grown avenue that led to the stables, hobbled a little, 
 dried-up old man, leading a horse which, with its knock- 
 knees and its thin sides through which the ribs showed 
 plainly, was almost as sorry a looking beast as the far- 
 famed Rosinante itself. 
 
 "Ah! woe the day!" quavered the old man, as he 
 caught sight of his master. " Why do you desert the 
 old place? I shall never see you again." 
 
 "Nonsense, my good Frangois," cried the young man 
 cheerily, leaping down the steps three at a time. " Keep 
 up a brave heart, old fellow. You never whimpered 
 like this, when my father Heaven rest his soul and I 
 were off to the wars in Flanders." 
 
 The old man shook his head dolefully. 
 
 " That was different ! That was different! There is 
 less daaiger on the battle-field than in that terrible city 
 of Paris. It is a dragon with open jaws ready to devour 
 all that is best in France. I know it! I know it! 
 And, " sinking his voice as if fearful of being overheard, 
 "they hate the Huguenots there." 
 
 "Nay, nay, not so. 'Times change and we change 
 in them, ' as I learned in my classics. With Harry of 
 Navarre in the Louvre and the husband of the king's 
 sister, a Huguenot is as safe in Paris as he is in Gas- 
 cony, aye in Be"arn itself. Indeed, my good Francois, I 
 am not romancing," he added, as the old man refused
 
 IO A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 to be comforted, " although you seem to think I am. 
 Oh, yes, like all true Gascons, I can pull the long bow 
 upon occasions. But I am telling you now only the 
 simple truth. " 
 
 "But why go at all?" 
 
 "What, and eat out my heart here, living over the 
 past greatness of my family! What would one of my 
 ancestors, of whom you are so fond of boasting, have 
 said to that? No! No! Paris for me! Paris which 
 holds my fortune!" 
 
 " Heaven grant it may!" 
 
 But old Frangois' face, as sorrowful as that of Niobe 
 herself, revealed that he had little hope of the realiza- 
 tion of his devoutly expressed wish. 
 
 "Mordiou, I cannot stay chattering here!" suddenly 
 ejaculated the chevalier. " I have many a league to 
 traverse before nightfall. Here, Frangois, take this," 
 and opening a purse which he drew from the bosom of 
 his doublet, he forced into the old man's palm, in spite 
 of the recipient's stoutly expressed reluctance, five 
 broad pieces of gold. 
 
 " And now, farewell, my faithful old friend ! What, 
 would you make me play the woman!" as he noted the 
 tears streaming down the wrinkled cheeks of his trusty 
 servitor. 
 
 He pressed the good old man to his breast, patting 
 him encouragingly on the back. Then, leaping into 
 the saddle, he started his steed down the avenue at a 
 pace really quite creditable to that woebegone animal. 
 As well as he could through the mist that clouded his 
 sight old Frangois watched his young master's depar- 
 ture, until in a turn of the highway both horse and rider 
 vanished from his vision. 
 
 But there was neither sorrow nor foreboding in the
 
 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. ll 
 
 breast of Raoul de Puycadere, as he rode happily along 
 through the shady lanes and past the vineyards of this 
 garden land of France. All his dreams of the future 
 were tinged with gold and rose-color. Enthusiastic 
 with anticipation, he carolled forth in his fresh, young 
 voice that old ballad of the Gascon land : 
 
 Mon aiettl etait rossignol, 
 
 Ma grand 'mere etait hirondelle! 
 
 Ohe. le pays Gascon ! 
 
 Oh, le pays Gascon ! 
 
 Nothing of note happened during the rest of the 
 afternoon. The old horse soon tired of its little burst 
 of spirits and could only at rare intervals be forced out 
 of a walk. 
 
 Shortly after sunset, Raoul rode into the village of 
 Riconde, a wretched little hamlet, consisting mostly of 
 hovels. Inquiring of a peasant, who was making his 
 way home bending beneath a load of faggots, he learned 
 that the place boasted a sort of inn where possibly, the 
 peasant was inclined to be doubtful, but possibly refresh- 
 ment for man and beast might be obtained. 
 
 When he arrived at the spot indicated, De Puycadere 
 discovered that it was a low, ramshackle sort of an affair 
 with nothing inviting about it. But as he was desper- 
 ately hungry and moderately tired as well, he deter- 
 mined to try his luck, and reining in his steed, a process 
 almost superfluous, he began bawling lustily for the 
 landlord. 
 
 It was some moments before any one appeared, but 
 finally the door opened, and a woman peered forth, with 
 blinking eyes, a woman so old that by a slight stretch 
 of the imagination she might have been considered a 
 contemporary of those who inhabited the ark.
 
 10 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Hoik, mother!" cried the chevalier briskly, "will 
 you send some one to take charge of my horse? and have 
 you aught to give me for supper?" 
 
 " Put your horse up yourself," croaked the old woman. 
 " There's a shed yonder. And as for supper, perchance 
 you can have something, if you have the wherewithal 
 to pay for it." 
 
 "Oh! rest easy as to that!" laughed Raoul, leaping 
 lightly to the ground. 
 
 He led his tired animal to the shed indicated by the 
 woman, and having tethered it, he hunted about and 
 found fodder in a corner of the building. 
 
 Having attended to the creature comforts of his horse, 
 he gave a hasty glance about him. He noticed that 
 there were three other horses tied in the shed, two of 
 whom gave evidence of long and hard riding. Just 
 outside was drawn up a goodly sized van, on the canvas 
 sides of which was painted in sprawling letters the 
 word Gelosi. 
 
 Crossing the courtyard, he entered the cabaret itself, 
 which proved to consist of only one rather large room, 
 with rush-strewn floor, and sparsely furnished with 
 rough tables and benches. The light from half a dozen 
 spluttering candles was dim, and the air was so dense 
 with the smoke from the turf fire burning on the hearth 
 that Raoul could see scarcely a dozen feet before him. 
 
 He managed, however, to grope his way to one of the 
 tables, and was immediately served by the beldame 
 with a mess of steaming porridge and a bottle of sour 
 wine. 
 
 The fare was not very appetizing, but the chevalier 
 was too hungry to quarrel with what was set before him, 
 and he fell to with a will. 
 
 The cravings of the inner man appeased, he raised
 
 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. IJ 
 
 his head and proceeded to take an inventory of his sur- 
 roundings. His eyes had now become somewhat accus- 
 tomed to the atmosphere, and he perceived for the first 
 time that he was not the sole guest of the place. 
 
 A short distance down the room were two burly fel- 
 lows with coarse, repulsive countenances, who had been 
 staring curiously at the newcomer, but immediately 
 averted their gaze as they became conscious that they 
 were observed. 
 
 Just across from the table occupied by De Puycadere 
 was seated a group of four, two men and two women. 
 Their swarthy complexions, jet-black hair and big dark 
 eyes, together with their fantastic garb, proclaimed 
 their race. They evidently belonged to one of those 
 nomadic bands of Tzigani who were on their way to 
 Paris to pick up an occasional honest and more often 
 still dishonest coin, attracting the public by their songs, 
 dances, and predictions of the future. 
 
 After a few hurried words with the man who was 
 evidently the leader of the party, one of the girls rose 
 and modestly approached Raoul's table. 
 
 She was an exceedingly pretty creature of the dark 
 Egyptian type, and the Orientalism of her appearance 
 was heightened by the bizarre, brilliant colors of her 
 dress and the band of gilded sequins which, passed 
 about her head, dangled low over her dark forehead. 
 
 " Will the noble gentleman cross the poor Tzigana's 
 hand?" she began, with a pretty smile. "And Mirza 
 will tell him of the future. " 
 
 De Puycadere smiled good-humoredly back, and pro- 
 ducing his purse, proceeded to select a silver piece with 
 which to grant the gypsy's request. 
 
 The glitter of the money caught the observation of 
 one of the rough-looking men seated farther down the
 
 14 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 room, and an evil, covetous look gleamed for a moment 
 in his eyes. Turning to his companion he uttered a few 
 low, rapid words. 
 
 Mirza was attentively examining the lines in the 
 chevalier's hand. Suddenly, she uttered a cry and, 
 raising her head, beckoned to her companions. 
 
 The others approached and joined in the examination, 
 meanwhile talking volubly to one another in some 
 strange, musical language. 
 
 "Well, am I not to know your discovery?" asked 
 Raoul, laughing. 
 
 "Ah, monsieur," said the girl named Mirza, "'tis a 
 strange future the lines foretell, and a happy future too, 
 unless " and she hesitated. 
 
 "Well, unless?" 
 
 " Unless all is brought to a sudden ending. " 
 
 "A sudden ending?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur. There is much peril in store for 
 you. If you survive, all will be well. But, whether 
 you survive or not is beyond the gypsy's lore to predict." 
 
 " Mordiou! With a good sword and a stout arm I'll 
 take the risk. And now, I'll away. I've loitered too 
 long already." 1 
 
 " Monsieur is not going to-night?" asked Mirza, with 
 an anxious ring in her voice. 
 
 " By my faith, I am. I sleep in Creux to-night." 
 
 At these words, the two men at the other end of the 
 room rose and passed hurriedly out of the cabaret. In 
 another moment, the clatter of hoofs was heard without. 
 
 "I beg monsieur not to go to-night," insisted the 
 Tzigana, with increased earnestness. " I I am afraid. " 
 
 " Peste! my pretty one," returned Raoul with careless 
 confidence. "Raoul de Puycadere can take care of 
 himself."
 
 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. Ig 
 
 The girl made a gesture expressive of helplessness, 
 but said no more. 
 
 Raoul paid his reckoning, and, after a cheery good- 
 night to the gypsies, left the sordid inn, mounted his 
 horse, and was soon on his way to Creux. 
 
 Night had fallen. There was no moon, and it was so 
 dark that the poor horse, whom neither threats nor 
 cajoleries could induce to move faster than a walk, had 
 difficulty in picking his way. 
 
 Raoul finally ceased his efforts, and, allowing his 
 steed to proceed at his own gait, gave himself up to 
 reflection. 
 
 He had ridden thus slowly for perhaps an hour, when 
 suddenly he was startled by the neighing of a horse just 
 beyond a hedge on one side of the highway. 
 
 The next moment a heavy body alighted with a thump 
 just behind him upon the haunches of his spiritless 
 animal. 
 
 Before he could utter a cry or make a movement for 
 defence, a thick cloak was flung over his head, and he 
 was dragged from his horse, which had stopped short 
 at the disturbance. 
 
 He felt himself in the grasp of four muscular arms, 
 and struggled furiously to free himself, but all in vain. 
 He was raised from his feet and dashed violently down 
 upon the hard roadway. He felt a terrible pain dart 
 through his temple, as his head came in contact with 
 some unyielding object, and then he knew no more. 
 Consciousness had left him.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 
 
 "CoRBLEu! Let them sing and shout while they 
 may ! By the corns of Saint Ursula, my name is not 
 Annibal Goujon if some of the knaves do not dance to a 
 different tune before this day week. Oh! shout for 
 Navarre! Ere long you'll have no tongues to cry 
 4 Vive' to him and his beggarly crew ! By sword and 
 hilt, were I the Duke of Guise, I'd slit those same 
 tongues now without further ado!" 
 
 And the speaker, a stout, red-faced man, with little 
 cunning eyes like those of a ferret, half drew the heavy 
 long sword that dangled at his side, and with an oath 
 clashed it back again into its scabbard. 
 
 The pretty, dark-eyed little woman at his side started, 
 and cast a half -fearful glance upon his crimson counte- 
 nance. Accustomed as she was to her husband's boast- 
 ing as to deeds of prowess and bloodshed in which he 
 had been or was to be the doughty hero, there was 
 something in his manner now which boded more than 
 his usual bravado. 
 
 The pair were standing on the narrow platform of the 
 hostelry known as "The Rising Sun," in the Place 
 Royale of the village of Saint Germain. Above their 
 heads swayed slowly in the morning breeze the sign- 
 board the head of the young Duke of Guise, sur- 
 rounded by a sunburst, golden rays stretching in all 
 directions.
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. If 
 
 The Rising Sun ! More than one curious passer-by 
 had of late fastened his eyes upon the sign and asked 
 himself if there were aught of augury in the painted 
 board. 
 
 Annibal Goujon's breast swelled like a pouter pig- 
 eon's beneath his gorgeous uniform of red and yellow. 
 Although sergeant in the King's Musketeers, the worthy 
 man found means to fill his purse in divers other ways. 
 He was proprietor of the Rising Sun, and, unless rumor 
 spoke false, did not disdain to do quite a flourishing lit- 
 tle trade as a pawnbroker and usurer. 
 
 To be sure, Rose, his wife, was of great assistance 
 to him in these latter enterprises. Indeed, during An- 
 nibal's enforced absences while on duty, she was the 
 virtual mistress of the inn, and more than one golden 
 crown flowed into its coffers more for the sake of a 
 glance from the bright eyes and a smile from the cherry 
 lips of the pretty proprietress than for the good cheer 
 to be obtained within the tavern itself. 
 
 It was an animated scene the ill-matched twain gazed 
 upon this lovely summer's morning. 
 
 The village of Saint Germain was in full festival at- 
 tire. 
 
 The inns and even the private houses were filled 
 from cellar to attic, and the streets and public 
 squares crowded with a boisterous throng of merry- 
 makers. 
 
 At every corner one ran across booths containing 
 goods of every description and eatables and drinkables 
 that defied description, together with bands of peripatetic 
 comedians, acrobats, giants, dwarfs, trained animals, 
 and Heaven knows what else besides! 
 
 In the main it was a jocund, good-natured crowd, but 
 here and there a lowering face, an impatient gesture,
 
 l8 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 a muttered curse betokened that all were not in har- 
 mony with the general gayety. 
 
 And yet, forsooth, why should not the loyal subjects 
 of his most Christian Majesty of France be in gay and 
 festival mood? 
 
 A few days before, the isth of August, 1572, had been 
 celebrated, with great pomp and magnificence, the 
 marriage of Marguerite de Valois, sister of Charles IX., 
 to Henri de Bourbon, the young king of Navarre. 
 
 This union of Catholic and Huguenot had vastly sur- 
 prised everybody, and given rise to much surmise in 
 the minds of the more subtle spirits of both parties. 
 
 On the whole, however, the Huguenots rejoiced 
 greatly and believed that an end had now come to the 
 persecution they had suffered from for so many terrible 
 years. 
 
 How could they think otherwise? 
 
 Had not the king openly declared: "In giving my 
 sister Margot to Henri of Navarre, I give her to all the 
 Protestants of the kingdom"? 
 
 Had not the venerable Admiral Coligny, the noted 
 Huguenot, who for five or six years had been so bitterly 
 opposed to the king, come to Paris to be present at the 
 wedding of his beloved pupil, the young ruler of Na- 
 varre? Had not Charles himself welcomed the old man 
 with almost filial affection? 
 
 And yet over all, to the eyes of those who had eyes 
 to see, hovered the sinister, revengeful figure of the 
 Duke of Guise, whom, youthful as he was, the Catholics 
 looked up to as the chief of their party, just as the Hugue- 
 nots considered Harry of Navarre to be their leader. 
 
 A little apart from the general movement and gayety 
 in the Place Royale, drawn up beneath a blank wall, 
 under the shadow of the picturesque eaves of the Rising
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 19 
 
 Sun, was a gypsy's van, with the word Gelosi painted 
 in huge characters upon its white canvas sides. 
 
 Close to the van and out of earshot of the joyous revel- 
 lers stood two men, looking on with anything but sym- 
 pathy at the general merry-making. Their haughty 
 bearing and rich attire indicated that they belonged to 
 the nobility, as indeed was the case. 
 
 One was a man of perhaps thirty-five, of somewhat 
 stalwart build and with jet-black hair and mustache. 
 While his features were regular and even handsome, 
 there was something in his expression which would have 
 warned a student of Lavater to beware crossing his 
 will. Supremely selfish, crushing ruthlessly all that 
 threatened to cross his ambition, and yet knowing well 
 at need how to veil his thoughts and purposes beneath 
 the suavest of manners, the Vicomte Hector de Vrissac 
 stood high at court in the graces of the king and the 
 queen mother, Catherine de Medicis. The latter, 
 shrewd and crafty woman that she was, believed that 
 every man has his price, and she had long since discov- 
 ered that De Vrissac could be depended on for almost 
 any sort of work, provided his services were properly 
 recompensed. 
 
 The Vicomte's companion was a mere youth, not 
 more than twenty, but of a muscular figure which told 
 of considerable strength, and a bright, handsome, win- 
 ning countenance, in spite of the slight marks of dissi- 
 pation which a life of careless pleasure-seeking had 
 already imprinted upon it. 
 
 As the little red eyes of Sergeant Goujon roamed 
 restlessly here and there about the square, they chanced 
 to rest upon the figures of the two noblemen near the 
 gypsy's van. And then a sudden transformation took 
 place. Annibal drew himself up with all the puffed-up
 
 SO A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 majesty of a turkey-cock, gave his breast a resounding 
 slap, and turning to his wife, said : 
 
 " Ah ! I perceive a good friend of mine, my dear, a 
 very good friend, the noble Vicomte de Vrissac," and 
 his tongue seemed to roll over the title as if it had been 
 a toothsome morsel. " One word with him, and I must 
 away. You understand of course although, by the 
 beard of St. Bridget, Annibal Goujon is too long-headed 
 to confide his secrets to a woman how serious are the 
 motives which compel me to absent myself from you 
 to-day. Remember, I leave in your hands all my 
 interests." 
 
 " And when do you return?" asked Rose, indifferently. 
 
 " I do not know," and he eyed her in a half -suspicious 
 manner, then continuing with emphasis, " but act pre- 
 cisely as if I were about to return the very next instant." 
 
 Did Rose shrug her shoulders at this veiled threat? 
 Goujon was not quite sure, not sure enough at all events 
 to take any notice of it. So, contenting himself with 
 what he had already said, he placed one pudgy finger 
 beneath his wife's dimpled chin, and, bending forward, 
 imprinted a kiss upon her lips a salute not too well rel- 
 ished by the recipient, if one were to judge by the moue 
 she made the moment her lord and master had turned 
 his back. 
 
 Straight to the van strutted the portly sergeant, thor- 
 oughly convinced in his own mind that he was the 
 observed of all observers, the envied of all enviers. 
 
 As the younger of the two noblemen caught sight of 
 him, he burst out laughing, and, turning to his com- 
 panion, began some jesting remark little flattering to 
 the vanity of the self-satisfied sergeant had he heard it; 
 but, fortunately for the latter's conceit, the words were 
 cut short by a low, quick " Chut!" from De Vrissac.
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 21 
 
 Goujon advanced until he was close to their elbows, 
 then, doffing his plumed hat, he bowed as low as his 
 decidedly corpulent anatomy would permit. 
 
 Then, raising himself to his full height, he fixed his 
 eyes upon De Vrissac, and, with much solemnity, uttered 
 the one word : 
 
 " Guise!" 
 
 De Vrissac's face darkened, and he made as if to utter 
 some sharp rejoinder, but he evidently thought better 
 of it, for, after a quick glance about him, he replied 
 with equal solemnity: 
 
 "Guise!" 
 
 "All!" 
 
 "All!" 
 
 " By order of the king. " 
 
 " By order of the king and the great Henri." 
 
 "When strikes the clock of Saint Germain 1'Auxer- 
 rois. " 
 
 " At the first sound of the tocsin. " 
 
 " 'Tis agreed." 
 
 "'Tis agreed." 
 
 Goujon paused, with a grin of satisfaction overspread- 
 ing his coarse, crafty features. The mysterious cate- 
 chism, countersign, or whatever it might be, was 
 evidently ended. The young Duke de Bassompierre 
 for De Vrissac's companion bore one of the proudest 
 names in France had listened with ever-increasing 
 amazement to the parley between the ill-matched pair. 
 But there was another listener, with whom it would have 
 fared ill had his eavesdropping been discovered by the 
 choleric De Vrissac. Crouched within the van was a 
 young man who had eagerly drunk in every word with an 
 amazement and bewilderment quite equal to the duke's. 
 
 After a moment's silence, De Vrissac spoke again.
 
 ftf A GENTLEMAN FROM 
 
 "Look you, Master Goujon," he said, sternly and with 
 little or no attempt to conceal his annoyance, " and pay 
 strict heed to my words. Evidently, you have learned 
 your lesson well. So far, so good! But discretion is 
 a virtue you apparently lack. Beware how you speak 
 again in public places. Bridle your tongue, and see 
 that it wags no more like the clapper behind an old 
 gossip's lips. Good-day!" 
 
 Goujon's face fell. Crestfallen, he made another 
 low obeisance, then, turning, strode away with but a 
 poor assumption of his former jauntiness, and was soon 
 lost in the crowd. 
 
 " Really this is most extraordinary, my dear Hector," 
 began the duke. " What, you, the Vicomte " 
 
 "Tush!" interrupted De Vrissac, testily. "A few 
 more magpies like that, and our great cause is lost." 
 
 " Our great cause?" 
 
 " Certainly. Your cause, my cause, the cause of all 
 good Catholics, the cause of the great Henri!" 
 
 "What Henri?" 
 
 "There is only one." 
 
 " And he?" 
 
 "Henri of Guise." 
 
 De Bassompierre was silent for a moment, and then 
 he said slowly, waving his hand toward the crowd in 
 the Place Roy ale: 
 
 "To judge from this scene, one might think there 
 was another Henri in France Henri of Navarre." 
 
 With a smothered malediction, the vicomte laid his 
 hand feverishly upon the jewelled hilt of the dagger he 
 wore at his belt. 
 
 "By the mass!" he replied in a low, tense voice, "let 
 Navarre enjoy his glory while he may. 'Twill be 
 short-lived, I promise that."
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 23 
 
 A strange expression, half curiosity, half offence, 
 passed over the young duke's face, and then he laid his 
 hand, in its embroidered gauntlet, impulsively upon the 
 other's arm. 
 
 " Hector, I am no fool, and there is some plan afoot. 
 I can well see that. Why, as a good Catholic and a 
 peer of France, am I kept without the confidences of 
 our party?" 
 
 " All in good time, all in good time, my dear Paul. 
 Your mother especially " 
 
 "Mort de ma vie!" interrupted the young man, an- 
 grily, " I am no longer in leading-strings. " 
 
 " Certainly not. I did not mean to intimate it," said 
 De Vrissac, soothingly. " Be content. I promise you 
 that you shall know all no later than to-night. By the 
 way," with a sudden change of manner, "did you know 
 that yesterday when Admiral Coligny was passing the 
 house of Canon Piles, he was shot at?" 
 
 " Shot at? No! Was he killed?" 
 
 " No. He had his arm broken and two fingers taken 
 off. But it is hoped the balls were poisoned." 
 
 "Hoped!" 
 
 De Vrissac deliberately faced the duke, and threw 
 straight in the young man's eyes a look full of the 
 deepest significance. 
 
 "Feared! Feared!" he corrected slowly. " Did I say 
 hoped? It was a slip of the tongue." 
 
 Was it fancy, or at this moment did De Vrissac hear 
 a muffled ejaculation which certainly did not proceed 
 from his comrade. 
 
 However, before he could investigate, the tete-a-tete 
 was rudely broken in upon. A party of four gypsies, 
 closely followed by a laughing, noisy crowd, came hur- 
 riedly up to the van.
 
 4 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The foremost of the Tzigani, a swarthy man, with 
 brilliant black eyes, took a flying leap to the top of the 
 short flight of steps in front of the canvas door, and fac- 
 ing the tumultuous throng, raised his hand in mute 
 appeal. 
 
 As soon as silence was partially restored, he struck 
 an attitude, and harangued the people as follows : 
 
 "Messieurs and mesdames, lords and noble ladies. 
 The Signer Pharos here present, the director of this in- 
 comparable troupe, thanks you. Have patience, he 
 beseeches you, and this evening you will be well re- 
 warded for your courtesy. A wonderful performance, 
 unparalleled juggling, dancing such as the Bacchantes 
 never equalled, singing to give you a foretaste of Para- 
 dise, and the marvellous comedy, 'The Chevalier who 
 Sold his Wife to the Devil!' " 
 
 A roar of laughter greeted this, and after it had sub- 
 sided the gypsy continued : 
 
 " We hope that your enlightened taste will accord us 
 a greeting like to that we have received throughout all 
 Italy, where we had the distinguished honor to appear 
 before princes. " 
 
 With sweeping reverences to right and left, amidst 
 vociferous applause, the celebrated director of the Gelosi 
 troupe descended from his perch. 
 
 As the rabble gradually melted away, he turned to 
 one of the Tzigani near him, a strikingly handsome 
 girl with the midnight eyes and raven hair of her race, 
 and said : 
 
 " Mirza, I don't see the comrade which chance cast in 
 our company." 
 
 " The poor fellow we picked up half-dead on the high- 
 way?" 
 
 "Exactly."
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 2 5 
 
 "He sleeps," said the girl, with a wave of her shapely 
 brown hand toward the van. 
 
 "Then he has slept long enough. Awake him, Is- 
 mael." 
 
 "Ohe, friend, ohe"!" cried the one addressed as Is- 
 mael. "Wake up! Wake up!" and seizing a padded 
 stick, he struck a vigorous blow upon the gong which 
 hung by the side of the van. 
 
 At the reverberation, which was fit to wake the dead, 
 the crowd came hurrying back, fancying some enter- 
 tainment to be in store for them. 
 
 "Come, Paul, come!" said De Vrissac, catching the 
 duke by the arm. " We've had enough of this." 
 
 "One moment," pleaded De Bassompierre, whose 
 eyes were fixed upon the gypsy girl, Mirza, with a light 
 in them not pleasant to contemplate. 
 
 "Come, come, I say, come," insisted the vicomte. 
 " One bottle at the Rising Sun and then for Paris !" 
 
 In spite of himself the duke was compelled to yield, 
 and, forcing their way through the crowd, who, im- 
 pressed by their dress and bearing, gave way respect- 
 fully before them, the two friends entered the cabaret. 
 
 Scarcely had they disappeared within the hospitable 
 portals than the canvas which hung loosely over the 
 door of the van was lifted and a young man stepped or. 
 into view. 
 
 A strange figure he presented as he stood at the top 
 of the steps, a little dazzled by the sudden glare of sun- 
 shine. Shreds of straw ornamented his reddish-brown 
 hair dishevelled by sleep, and the feathers of his faded 
 hat hung bedraggled over his tattered pourpoint. More- 
 over, he was plastered with mud, and his clothes, shabby 
 enough at the best, were in a woeful plight. He was 
 buckling about his waist a sword, the hilt and scabbard
 
 26 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 of which were of exquisite workmanship and contrasted 
 strangely with the rest of his attire. 
 
 In spite of his garb, however, there was an indefin- 
 able charm about him, that vague something which pro- 
 claims birth and breeding, which can no more be de- 
 scribed than can the odor of the rose and which neither 
 poverty nor rags can ever totally efface. 
 
 Rose Goujon, who, attracted by the noise, was leaning 
 out of one of the windows of the inn, was not far wrong 
 when she murmured to herself: 
 
 " Ma foi ! In spite of his tattered feathers and his 
 pourpoint of the time of Henri II., he is superb!" 
 
 The newcomer finished buckling his sword-belt, and, 
 in a dazed sort of way, as if quite unconscious of the 
 people about him, removed his hat and ran his fingers 
 through the masses of his hair, revealing as he did so a 
 discolored spot just above the temple, a reminiscence 
 apparently of some heavy blow. 
 
 "He's a queer-looking fellow," observed a young 
 man in the cap and gown of a scholar, to another simi- 
 larly attired. 
 
 "Yes," was the laughing response. " I would wager 
 that he is the chevalier who sold his wife to the devil." 
 
 "Chut! chut! He is going to speak. " 
 
 The tattered gentleman had raised his eyes to the 
 window where Rose was, and, hat in hand, courteously 
 addressed her : 
 
 "What are all these people doing here? Tell me, 
 gentle lady yes, you who have such a pretty smile. 
 Where am I, pray?" 
 
 "At Saint Germain," responded Rose, with a slight 
 blush. 
 
 "Saint Germain!" 
 
 In bewilderment, he slowly descended the steps and
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 27 
 
 found himself face to face with the Tzigani. Then it 
 all flashed back upon him the departure from home, 
 the meeting with the gypsies, the sudden attack. 
 
 "Are you better, monsieur?" said a timid voice, that 
 of Mirza. 
 
 " Yes, yes. So, my pretty one, part of your prophecy 
 has already come true." 
 
 " Helas, yes, monsieur. And had we not come along 
 in time for Pharos and Ismael to beat off the ruffians, 
 your plight might have been worse. " 
 
 "Brave fellows!" and he grasped a hand of each of 
 the gypsies. 
 
 The crowd had pressed closer and was standing gap- 
 ing with curiosity. As Raoul de Puycadere observed 
 this, the absurdity of the situation dawned upon him, 
 and a sudden impulse seized him. He would satisfy 
 their curiosity. He possessed much of the love of ro- 
 mancing which seems to be the birthright of every true 
 Gascon and which has given rise to that very expressive 
 word " gasconade. " So, with a twinkle in his eye, he 
 began : 
 
 " Mordiou ! What is the meaning of all those open 
 mouths and those noses in the air? Good people, you 
 are surprised, are you not, to see a gentleman in such a 
 state? Know then " 
 
 "Listen! listen!" 
 
 " Know then," continued Raoul, half telling the truth 
 and half drawing on his imagination " Know then 
 that three leagues from here I was assailed, I and my 
 people, by a gang of scurvy scamps, who, not content 
 with robbing me of my horses and equipages and the 
 considerable sums contained in my coffers, after leaving 
 me for dead at the cost of fifteen of their band dis- 
 patched by me, in a most cowardly manner took ad-
 
 j8 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCON*. 
 
 vantage of the unconsciousness caused by my loss of 
 blood, to despoil me of the raiment proper to my rank 
 and attire me attire, Heaven save the mark ! in these 
 sordid rags! My good friends can attest the truth of 
 my words, if," fiercely, "there be perchance any one 
 here who dares to doubt it!" 
 
 Apparently no one cared to take up the challenge, 
 and after a moment's pause Raoul continued, growing 
 more and more audacious in his statements and thor- 
 oughly enjoying the ingenuous wonder of his auditors: 
 
 " Learn that you have before you the Chevalier Raoul 
 de Puycadere, who is gentleman enough that the king 
 calls him his cousin ahem ! after drinking. The Chev- 
 alier de Puycadere, I say, with a magnificent chateau, 
 donjons, drawbridges, moats, and towers, and a hundred 
 vassals who fly to obey his word of command. I have 
 come to Paris to take possession of an enormous estate 
 to which I have fallen heir, and to salute the admiral, 
 for I am a Huguenot. " 
 
 How long this diatribe, with its strange mixture of 
 fact and fancy, would have continued is only a matter 
 of conjecture, for at this moment a commotion arose at 
 the other side of the square, being caused by the arrival 
 of a mountebank with a couple of dancing bears, and 
 in a trice Raoul found himself deserted by his fickle 
 auditors, eager for a new sensation. Even the gypsies 
 followed in the wake, anxious to discover the attractions 
 of the jival fakirs. 
 
 Left to himself, Raoul laughed and then sighed. 
 Already he was a little ashamed of the spirit of mis- 
 chief which had led him to deliver such an oration in 
 public. 
 
 Suddenly he thrust his hand into the bosom of his 
 doublet and as quickly withdrew it with a cry of rage.
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 29 
 
 His purse, containing all the money he had in the 
 world, was gone ! 
 
 Doubtless the footpads had had the time to filch it 
 from him before the arrival of the gypsies. Where now, 
 a penniless adventurer, were the rosy hopes he had set 
 out with from Puycadere?
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 GABRIELLE. 
 
 "MONSIEUR." 
 
 With a start Raoul turned to find at his elbow the 
 rosy, smiling face of the little mistress of the inn. 
 
 The impressionable young woman had from the first 
 view been greatly taken with the handsome face of the 
 Gascon, and she implicitly believed every word of his 
 rhodomontade. 
 
 With a sudden impulse she decided to befriend him. 
 Perhaps this resolve was not wholly disinterested. 
 There may have been lurking in her mind the idea that 
 so noble a seigneur, with his vast fortune, magnificent 
 castle, and hundred vassals, would not prove ungrateful 
 in a pecuniary way for any kindness shown him in his 
 time of need. 
 
 Pretty Rose had a long head upon her graceful shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 "Monsieur," she began, "I may be bold to address 
 you, but " 
 
 "Go on, my dear," said Raoul encouragingly, as she 
 hesitated. " Have no fear. " 
 
 Ever ready as he was to fight or to make love, Cupid 
 and Mars being his twin divinities, he was nothing 
 loath to indulge in a mild flirtation with the attractive 
 landlady. 
 
 " I scarcely know how to propose it to monsieur, " 
 continued Rose, emboldened by the chevalier's gracious
 
 GABRIELLfc. 31 
 
 manner, " but the fact is this. All his servants having 
 been massacred and his money stolen, monsieur may 
 have need of temporary accommodation. If my poor 
 inn will serve him, all that I have is at his disposal." 
 
 " But I haven't a maravedi." 
 
 " That is well understood. Monsieur can pay at his 
 convenience." 
 
 Raoul hesitated. He felt a little spasm of shame to 
 impose thus upon the good woman. And yet what was 
 he to do? At that moment, a fugitive breeze brought 
 to his nostrils a delicious whiff from the kitchen of the 
 Rising Sun, and he realized that he was hungry, un- 
 deniably hungry. This decided him. After all, as 
 Rose said, it was but a temporary accommodation, and 
 his fortune once made he would repay her an hundred- 
 fold. 
 
 The spirits of the Gascon were rising, and once more 
 he believed in his star. 
 
 So he thanked the little woman, accepted her prof- 
 f ered hospitality with an appropriate mixture of effusive- 
 ness and dignity, and followed her to a little table be- 
 neath an awning to the right of the entrance to the inn. 
 
 The place was screened from the observation of the 
 passers-by by an arrangement of palms and climbing 
 vines trained over a trellis-work ; but to any one seated 
 beneath the awning, all that went on in the Place 
 Royale was plainly visible through the leaves. 
 
 Here Raoul threw himself down, and, while Rose 
 bustled away to make preparations for the entertain- 
 ment of her guest, lazily gave himself up to enjoying 
 the anticipation of the good things to come. 
 
 When one is twenty-five, in perfect health, with a 
 good sword at one's side, what matters an empty purse? 
 It is folly to indulge in gloomy forebodings.
 
 3* A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 Vogue la galere! Let the morrow take care of itself! 
 
 Now it so happened that Rose's was not the only 
 pair of bright eyes that had rested with approval upon 
 the young Gascon's handsome face and graceful, manly 
 figure. 
 
 Just prior to his appearance from the caravan, two 
 women had entered the square from a narrow street, 
 diagonally opposite to the Rising Sun. 
 
 The one was an elderly duenna of somewhat grim 
 aspect, and clothed from head to foot in austere black. 
 By her side moved, with the step of a young fawn, a 
 girl in the first morning of her youth, an Aurora of 
 grace and beauty. No tint of the shell in which Aphro- 
 dite arose from the foam of the sea could rival the deli- 
 cate bloom on those rounded cheeks. The mutinous 
 little mouth was as sweet as crimson roses, and like 
 twin sapphires set in ebony the large deep-blue eyes 
 glanced brightly amidst the dark lashes. Beneath an 
 azure toque, ornamented by a single feather held in 
 place by a clasp of pearls, strayed soft curls as silken 
 and golden as the tassels of ripened corn. 
 
 A gown of blue velvet looped over a satin petticoat of a 
 lighter shade displayed to advantage the slender, wil- 
 lowy figure. 
 
 The duenna held in her hands a rosary and a book of 
 hours, and her eyes were cast down as if fearful of cor- 
 ruption at the sight of worldly things. But those of the 
 young girl glanced hither and thither with as much 
 interest and vivacity as those of a novice escaped from 
 the convent. 
 
 "See, Dame Brigitte, see!" she murmured to her 
 companion. "What gayety! What animation! Oh! 
 it is charming!" 
 
 "All the more reason to make haste, mademoiselle,"
 
 GABRIELLE. 33 
 
 returned the duenna grimly. " Besides, the first sum- 
 mons to mass has sounded, and " 
 
 "Let us wait for the second," interrupted mademoi- 
 selle, with a mischievous smile. 
 
 But there was no answering smile on the face of 
 Dame Brigitte. On the contrary, she answered severely : 
 
 " Mademoiselle, this is no place for you." 
 
 " Oh ! my place for once in a way can well be where 
 there is some amusement. Too often it is where there 
 is nothing but ennui. Oh ! look, Dame Brigitte, look, 
 what is going on yonder! Oh! the poor fellow! Let 
 us hear what he is going to say!" 
 
 "Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!" 
 
 But it was evident that though the worthy duenna 
 might command, it was beyond her power to enforce 
 those commands, and willy nilly she was obliged to stay 
 and listen to the speech of the unfortunate Gascon. 
 
 When this was over, it was too late for mass, and to 
 Dame Brigitte's horror, the wilful young lady insisted 
 upon remaining to witness the merriment in the Place 
 Royale. 
 
 Wandering hither and thither about the square, it 
 chanced that they paused just in front of the arbor be- 
 hind which the Gascon was concealed; and, peering 
 through the leaves, the eyes of Raoul de Puycadere 
 rested for the first time upon the fair face that was to 
 play so large a part in the drama of his life and be 
 hereafter the morning-star of his destiny. 
 
 "Oh! Mademoiselle Gabrielle! Mademoiselle Ga 
 brielle !" groaned the poor duenna. 
 
 "Gabrielle!" thought Raoul. "Gabrielle! The 
 name of a divinity!" 
 
 "What would the duchess say?" pursued Dame Bri- 
 gitte, shaking her head with direful forebodings. 
 J
 
 34 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Oh! a fig for the duchess!" retorted Mademoiselle 
 Gabrielle gayly. And then, with sudden compunction, 
 " No, I did not mean that! The good duchess!" 
 
 "Oh! mademoiselle, you will be the death of me!" 
 
 But Gabrielle made no reply. Her attention was ab- 
 sorbed by the approach of a seller of little plaster images, 
 who was surrounded by a laughing swarm of students. 
 
 "Images! Images!" the vender was crying. ^ Here 
 you have them ! A figure of the Wandering Jew con- 
 demned to march and never stop until the world comes 
 to an end. A sou for the Jew ! A sou! A sou!" 
 
 " Give me one!" cried one of the students. 
 
 "And me!" 
 
 "And me!" 
 
 "A Jew for me!" 
 
 "Oh! I want one!" whispered Gabrielle to her old 
 attendant. Dame Brigitte raised her hands in terrified 
 dismay. As soon as she could recover her breath, she 
 protested vehemently, but in too low a tone for Raoul 
 to hear : 
 
 " Don't think of such a thing, mademoiselle. What! 
 you, a De Vrissac, a maid of honor to Queen Margue- 
 rite!" 
 
 Gabrielle's low, silvery laughter made music in the 
 young chevalier's ears. 
 
 "Thank you for reminding me of that, dear Dame 
 Brigitte," she said. "I will buy another one for the 
 queen. " 
 
 And before the astounded old woman could prevent 
 her, she stepped forward, and, unloosing the fastenings 
 of a dainty little purse, she cried to the peddler: 
 
 "Give me two!" 
 
 At the sound of her voice, the students turned, and in 
 an instant the whole scene was changed.
 
 GABRIELLE. 3J 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye, Gabrielle was surrounded. 
 "A dance! A dance!" 
 "I first, mademoiselle!" 
 "No, I! I!" 
 
 Gabrielle turned pale. This was more than she had 
 bargained for, and she realized now the consequences 
 of her folly. 
 
 Dame Brigitte, purple with anger and with dishev- 
 elled coiffe, attempted to push her way to her charge's 
 side, screaming: 
 
 " Dance! She! A maid of honor!" 
 
 Amidst jeering laughter the old dame was hustled 
 incontinently aside. 
 
 But deliverance was close at hand. 
 
 Whipping his sword from its scabbard, Raoul thrust 
 aside the vines and, leaping out, confronted the youth- 
 ful persecutors. 
 
 At sight of this dauntless Perseus with his stern eyes 
 and gleaming rapier, the students who, after all, were 
 anything but dragons and had been impelled simply by 
 a spirit of mischief turned precipitately and took to 
 their heels, their black gowns bulging out like the 
 wings of a covey of pheasants alarmed at the approach 
 of the hunter. 
 
 Gabrielle, white and trembling, clung close to the 
 duenna. 
 
 Raoul sheathed his sword, doffed his hat, concealing 
 as well as he could the sorrowful condition of its feath- 
 ers, and, approaching the young girl, addressed her in 
 his most courtly manner : 
 
 " Mademoiselle, permit a poor chevalier to hope that 
 you have sustained no injury at the hands of those 
 young ruffians. " 
 
 Gabrielle withdrew herself from the embrace of the
 
 $6 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 duenna. The color returned in an even more vivid 
 flush than usual to her cheeks, -but the splendor of her 
 eyes was veiled by drooping lids, as she replied mod- 
 estly : 
 
 " Chevalier, accept my thanks. Without your timely 
 aid, I shudder to think what might have happened." 
 
 "And she!" put in Dame Brigitte, still puffing from 
 her unwonted exertions, " she, a maid of honor to the 
 Queen of Navarre !" 
 
 Raoul started. A maid of honor ! 
 
 They were standing a little in front of a balcony that 
 jutted out from the second story of the tavern, but none 
 of them perceived a dark-visaged man who at this mo- 
 ment stepped out upon the platform from one of the 
 windows-. It was the Vicomte de Vrissac, who, heated 
 with the wine he had drunk, had left his companion to 
 flirt with a pretty serving-maid, while he sought a breath 
 of fresh air. 
 
 As he caught sight of the group below him, he 
 uttered an exclamation of mingled surprise and anger. 
 
 " You are a soldier, chevalier?" ventured Gabrielle, 
 timidly, each word being distinctly audible to the lis- 
 tener above. 
 
 " I was for five years in Flanders, mademoiselle, 
 where I fought under the orders of the Prince of Lor- 
 raine." 
 
 With a gesture of rage, De Vrissac turned and dis- 
 appeared through the window. 
 
 By this time, Raoul, who had been a little timorous 
 at first, had recovered something of his native assurance. 
 
 "I heard your duenna say, mademoiselle, that you 
 were attached to the person of the Queen of Navarre," 
 he said, feasting his eyes upon the loveliness of the girl 
 before him, and becoming each moment more and more
 
 GABRIELLE. 37 
 
 fascinated. "Would you permit me to offer you my 
 respects at the Louvre?" 
 
 This was audacious in more senses than one, and so it 
 seemed to strike the young lady, for an amused smile 
 played about her lips. But she contented herself with 
 a low courtesy and a softly murmured : 
 
 " Monsieur le Chevalier!" 
 
 " This is quite enough. Let us go," whispered Dame 
 Brigitte, laying her hand upon the arm of her 
 charge. 
 
 " I shall then have the honor of asking you to dance 
 with me a pavane," said Raoul, boldly. "I " 
 
 But he was interrupted by a harsh voice at his elbow, 
 demanding peremptorily : 
 
 " Pardon me, but by what right, I pray, do you pre- 
 sume to address this lady?" 
 
 Raoul turned quickly and found himself face to face 
 with a man who was frowning upon him in only too 
 evident anger. 
 
 For a moment the two men eyed each other, and by 
 one of those flashes of inspiration which come to us all 
 at times, each recognized the other as an enemy and a 
 stumbling-block in his path. 
 
 Then Raoul said calmly, as if not understanding the 
 question: 
 
 " I beg your pardon?" 
 
 Before De Vrissac could speak, Gabrielle interposed. 
 
 "Hector," she said quickly, "this stranger saved us 
 just now from much annoyance at the hands of a band 
 of scholars." 
 
 De Vrissac frowned more darkly than ever. 
 
 "The service rendered, let him go on his way," he 
 declared, offensively. 
 
 Raoul's eyes flashed and 'he blood flushed crimson
 
 38 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 beneath his dark skin. But he managed to control his 
 rising anger. 
 
 " And who are you to dare to speak to me thus?" he 
 demanded with quiet dignity. 
 
 "The cousin and guardian of this lady! a man who 
 cannot endure the Gascons. You have said just now 
 that you fought five years under Monseigneur de Lor- 
 raine. I was a lieutenant of the prince, and I never 
 encountered you. " 
 
 "Apparently because you kept prudently in a safe 
 place upon the heights, while I fought in the plain," 
 was Raoul's sarcastic retort. 
 
 At this 'De Vrissac was beside himself with rage. 
 He clapped his hand to the hilt of his sword, and ex- 
 claimed hoarsely : 
 
 " Those words shall cost you dear ! Are you a gentle- 
 man?" 
 
 "You might as well demand of Henri de Bourbon, 
 King of Navarre, if he were of good blood." 
 
 "On guard, then!" 
 
 Simultaneously, two swords flashed in air. 
 
 But before the steel could cross, Gabrielle sprang be- 
 tween, her head erect, her eyes gleaming dark with 
 excitement. 
 
 In clear, bell-like tones rang out the command : 
 
 " Hold ! Both of you ! Hold !"
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WHITE BADGE. 
 
 * HOLD ! Both of you ! Hold !" 
 
 As if at the order of a young queen to her subjects, 
 the would-be combatants lowered the points of their 
 weapons. 
 
 "For shame, gentlemen, for shame!" continued the 
 dauntless girl, the excitement kindling her cheeks and 
 rendering her more beautiful than ever. " What, would 
 you fight in my presence? And in this public place? 
 And for what? A nothing? Hector, your thanks are 
 due this gentleman for his services to me, your kins- 
 woman, rather than your ill-timed taunts. Gentlemen, 
 sheathe your swords!" 
 
 Instantly Raoul's blade rattled in its scabbard. The 
 vicomte, with an ugly scowl upon his dark face, made 
 no movement, but an imperious "Hector!" from Made- 
 moiselle de Vrissac brought him partially to his senses, 
 and he sulkily followed the chevalier's example. 
 
 "We shall meet again, monsieur!" he growled, with 
 a darting look at Raoul, full of malevolence. 
 
 "Ever at your service, monsieur," was the young 
 Gascon's quiet reply. 
 
 Although she had won the victory thus far, Mademoi- 
 selle de Vrissac had no intention of leaving the two 
 men together. She knew too well her cousin's un- 
 governable temper, and she realized that her departure 
 would be but the signal for the outbreak of fresh hostili-
 
 40 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 ties. So she laid her hand gently upon De Vrissac's 
 arm, and, with an entire change of manner, in a tone of 
 cajolery which she knew well how to assume on occa- 
 sion, she said softly: 
 
 " Hector, we are far from home, and, after my recent 
 experience, I fear to go alone with Dame Brigitte. May 
 I not claim your protection to the Hotel de Bassom 
 pierre?" 
 
 At the sweet persuasive accents, the Vicomte's harsh 
 face softened a trifle, and, despite himself, he was forced 
 to yield. Moreover his fair cousin, outside of and next 
 to his ambition, was perhaps the one thing De Vrissac 
 really cared for. 
 
 The two moved away, followed hobblingly by the old 
 duenna, but not before a swift, smiling glance from a 
 pair of azure eyes had made music in Raoul's heart, 
 telling him as it did that the donor held him blameless 
 for the recent altercation. 
 
 When the graceful figure had vanished in one of the 
 side streets, the chevalier sighed and passed his hand 
 over his forehead as if awaking from a dream. As he 
 did so, he noticed something white lying at his feet. 
 Stooping he picked it up, and found it to be a dainty 
 handkerchief, with the name Gabrielle embroidered in 
 one corner. He made a movement as if to follow the 
 owner of the pretty trifle, but, upon second thought, 
 paused, pressed his lips to the needlework, and thrust 
 the handkerchief into the breast of his doublet. 
 
 A maid of honor to the Queen of Navarre, whose 
 name was Gabrielle! It was but little to go upon, and 
 the chances were exceedingly slim for a penniless ad- 
 venturer like himself to encounter her. But, although 
 he had suffered various slight scratches from the arrows 
 of the mischievous love-god, this was the first time, as
 
 THE WHITE BADGE. 4! 
 
 it would probably prove the last, that Eros had inflicted 
 a serious wound upon the heart of Raoul de Puycadere. 
 There and then the chevalier registered a vow that 
 no matter what obstacles might interpose, he would 
 meet again the lovely maid of honor, woo her, win her 
 if he could. 
 
 . The Hotel de Bassompierre was a magnificent struc- 
 ture, situated on the quay, nearly opposite the Louvre 
 and rivalling in its splendor even that historic palace 
 itself. It formed but one of the many possessions of 
 the Bassompierres, one of the oldest, proudest, and 
 wealthiest families in France. 
 
 This famous family, which boasted many representa- 
 tives, now dead and gone, who had distinguished them- 
 selves in church, council and upon the battle-field, was 
 now limited to but two members, the young Duke de 
 Bassompierre, of whom we have caught a passing 
 glimpse at Saint Germain, and his mother, the duchess. 
 
 The Duchess de Bassompierre, a woman of indomi- 
 table pride and a keen sense of honor which even Bay- 
 ard, the knight sans peur et sans reproche, might have 
 envied, had been possessed of remarkable beauty in her 
 youth, and even now at the age of fifty, with her stately 
 figure, her snow-white hair, and her brilliant dark eyes, 
 there were few of the young beauties of the court who 
 could dispute the palm with her. 
 
 And yet the duchess was far from a happy woman. 
 Bound up, heart and soul, in her only son, living solely 
 for him and in him, her heart was rent in twain by the 
 young man's ever-increasing tendency toward folly and 
 dissipation. Handsome though he was, witty, affection- 
 ate, and even honorable in a way, he was weak, undeni- 
 ably, deplorably weak ; and the sparkle of the wine-cup
 
 4 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 or the soft eyes of some fair, frail damsel would scatter 
 to the winds all his mother's injunctions and prayers. 
 
 The Bassompierres possessed but one near relative, 
 Mademoiselle Gabrielle de Vrissac, daughter of the 
 only sister of the duchess. Both the young lady's par- 
 ents had died when she was in her early teens, and 
 Gabrielle, who was possessed of a fair fortune, was left 
 to the joint guardianship of her aunt and a cousin by 
 her father's side, the Vicomte Hector. She was edu- 
 cated at the family chateau near La Rochelle, and now 
 that her education was finished her aunt had recently 
 brought her to Paris, and obtained for her the position 
 of maid of honor to the Princess Marguerite, now Queen 
 of Navarre. 
 
 There was a time when the good duchess had hoped 
 that his cousin's extreme beauty and charm might win 
 the young duke from his wayward courses, but this hope 
 had long since vanished. The affection between the 
 youthful couple was of too brotherly and sisterly a 
 nature, the good-comradeship between them too frank 
 and genuine, to leave any loophole for a deeper senti- 
 ment to creep in. 
 
 On the evening of the day of Gabrielle's adventure at 
 Saint Germain, Madame de Bassompierre was seated in 
 her favorite apartment of the hotel, a room half bou- 
 doir, half oratory, for the duchess, as both the Bassom- 
 pierres and her own family had ever been, was a 
 devoted, almost bigoted Catholic. The furniture was 
 rich and heavily carved, of the time of Francis I. ; the 
 walls were hung with superb tapestry, emblazoned with 
 armorial bearings. Above the enormous fireplace hung 
 a full-length portrait of a warrior, with a long white 
 beard falling over his cuirass the late duke. On one 
 side of the room was an alcove, containing a large and
 
 THE WHITE BADGE. 43 
 
 massive bed, heavily draped with curtains of dark vel- 
 vet, and just opposite was a broad window opening out 
 upon a balcony and through which could be seen the 
 shining river and a distant view of the towers of Notre 
 Dame. 
 
 Near the alcove stood a prie-dieu in front of a small 
 altar surmounted by a large ivory crucifix, which 
 gleamed with a weird whiteness in the somewhat dimly 
 lighted room. 
 
 The duchess a worthy occupant of the noble apart- 
 ment, in her trailing robes of deep purple velvet with a 
 Marie Stuart cap upon the snowy masses of her hair 
 sat in a large armchair near the fireplace where a log or 
 two blazed fitfully upon the hearth, for the night was 
 a trifle chilly. 
 
 Near her stood an elderly man, spare almost to atten- 
 uation, and with features which were striking in their 
 intellectuality. And indeed Ambrose Pare, the favorite 
 physician of the king and the queen mother, was a man 
 of no ordinary attainments, both of head and heart. 
 The duchess had known him from her girlhood up, and, 
 in spite of the fact that he was a Huguenot of the strict- 
 est dye, she trusted him almost as much as she did her 
 father confessor himself. 
 
 "Pardon me, gracious madame," the physician was 
 saying, " if I venture the opinion that you pass too harsh 
 a judgment upon your son. " He paused and then added 
 with emphasis : " Your only son. " The duchess sighed, 
 and a tear gathered slowly in the corner of her eye: 
 
 "Alas, my only son!" 
 
 "The duke is young," persisted Ambrose Pare, seek- 
 ing for excuses to comfort her, " and " 
 
 "Oh, Master Ambrose," interrupted the duchess, 
 with an impatient gesture, "the duke his father," and
 
 44 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 she pointed to the picture above the mantel, " the duke 
 his father had not numbered his years ere he had drawn 
 a sword, not in a wild brawl and drunken frolic, but 
 with honor, under his monarch's eye, in many a stricken 
 field." 
 
 " The fault is on the times. Youth, like the chame- 
 leon, ever takes the prevailing hue." 
 
 "His excesses!" 
 
 " For those the license of the court gives but too much 
 excuse. " 
 
 "His duels!" 
 
 " At his age the blood is hot." 
 
 " He is too turbulent, too ungoverned, too " 
 
 But the poor woman could proceed no further. Her 
 emotion choked her, and, with a sob, she buried her 
 face in her handkerchief. 
 
 Ambrose Pare gazed down upon her with genuine 
 concern depicted upon his countennce. He knew per- 
 haps better than she to what an extent the young duke 
 had gone in his excesses, and yet he loved the boy whose 
 tutor he had been. He waited until the duchess had 
 somewhat regained her composure, and then sought to 
 console her with words, which, to do him justice, he 
 really believed himself. 
 
 " Madame ! Madame ! I pray your grace to look 
 upon these follies, for they are no more, with hopeful 
 eyes. I am old, and in my time have seen many a 
 noble manhood obliterate the remembrance of a wild 
 and foolish youth. In the duke's case, believe me, the 
 head alone is at fault and not the heart, for in the char- 
 acter of tutor I have probed the latter often." 
 
 The duchess dried her eyes and raised her head, meet- 
 ing the old man's gaze as if she would read his inmost 
 heart
 
 THE WHITE BADGE. 45 
 
 "You are a great physician, Master Pare," she said, 
 earnestly, "the greatest France has known, and your 
 skill has ere this saved the life of kings. I do entreat 
 you then, out of the love you bore my honored husband, 
 to spare no pains to recall to a higher, better, and nobler 
 life my son. " She rose and stretched forth her hands 
 in appeal to the physician. " Do that, good Ambrose, 
 and I will esteem no reward too much, even were it 
 half the estates of Bassompierre. " 
 
 Master Pare took the jewelled hands and pressed them 
 consolingly in his. 
 
 "Madame," he replied gently, "I am a physician of 
 the body and not of the mind, yet in this case I have 
 studied both and I will essay the cure. My reward will 
 be my success. " 
 
 And, raising one of the duchess* hands, with the 
 utmost respect, he touched it with his lips. 
 
 "Madame la Duchesse! Madame la Duchesse!" 
 called a fresh and musical voice from the balcony. 
 
 " It is Gabrielle," said the duchess, quickly withdraw- 
 ing her hand, " At another time, Master Pare, we will 
 speak further of this. " 
 
 Taking these words as a dismissal, as indeed they 
 were meant to be, the old physician bowed low, and 
 took his departure, as Gabrielle, pushing aside the 
 curtains, appeared from the balcony. 
 
 She lightly descended the few steps that led to the 
 window and crossed the room to the duchess' side. 
 Dressed in a simple robe of white, in her youth and gay 
 abandon she formed a striking contrast to the sombre- 
 robed duchess ; the one with her life all before her, the 
 other, her existence past, save for what joy and sorrow 
 the future might have in store for her in the life of her 
 son. 

 
 4 g A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " Aunt, there is a great commotion on the banks of 
 the river," began Mademoiselle de Vrissac in some ex- 
 citement. " Can it be some new riot that " 
 
 The duchess pressed her hand to her heart. A riot! 
 And Paul abroad! Ah! why must she ever forebode 
 evil 'when she thinks of her son? 
 
 Alarmed at her aunt's pallor, Gabrielle feared that 
 she was ill, and asked if she should not call back Master 
 Pare. 
 
 "No," commanded Madame de Bassompierre, laying 
 a detaining hand upon the girl's shoulder and with an 
 effort recovering her composure. " It is but a momen- 
 tary faintness. It will pass." 
 
 Then, seating herself in the armchair she had but 
 recently quitted, she continued in a brighter tone: 
 
 " Sit down here, on that footstool at my feet, Gabri- 
 elle, and proceed with your story of that adventure 
 which Master Pare interrupted. " 
 
 "It was already finished," said Gabrielle, obeying, 
 and resting her golden head against her aunt's knee. 
 
 " What did you say was the name of your preserver. " 
 
 "The Chevalier de Puycadere." 
 
 " Puycadere ! I think I remember that my husband 
 had a companion at arms of that name, a brave soldier 
 I believe, and a Gascon." 
 
 " It must have been the chevalier's father. He said 
 that he was a Gascon, and and a Huguenot. " 
 
 The last word was spoken a little hesitatingly, for 
 Gabrielle was well aware of the duchess' hostility to 
 the reformed religion. 
 
 Sure enough, the face of the elder lady darkened 
 ominously. 
 
 "A Huguenot!" she ejaculated. "Will those mis- 
 guided creatures never see the error of their ways, and,
 
 THE WHITE BADGE. 47 
 
 by embracing the true faith, save this unhappy land 
 from the miseries and bloodshed into which it has been 
 plunged?" 
 
 " Is it wholly their fault?" rejoined Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac, a little timidly. " Surely, the other side has 
 been to blame also in its excesses. But, at all events, 
 the marriage of my dear princess is an augury of hap- 
 pier times." 
 
 Now the marriage of a Catholic princess of the house 
 of Valois with the Protestant Prince of Be*arn, as she 
 persisted in calling the King of Navarre, had been far 
 from pleasing to the duchess, and Gabrielle's remarks 
 seemed to her little short of heresy. But before she 
 could reprove the daring girl, the door was flung quickly 
 open and her son dashed gayly into the room. 
 
 His face was flushed and his eyes bright with wine. 
 Both the duchess and Gabrielle rose to their feet. 
 
 Although Madame de Basssompierre's first anxious 
 glance told her the truth, that her son had been indulg- 
 ing too freely, she said nothing but suffered the kiss he 
 imprinted upon her cheek. 
 
 Then she sank back again in her chair, thinking bit- 
 terly : " The proverb is true which says when your 
 children are young they trample upon your feet, but 
 when they grow up they trample upon your heart!" 
 
 The duke noticed nothing, but laughing a little bois- 
 terously, he turned to Gabrielle and pinched her mis- 
 chievously upon the cheek. 
 
 " So, my pretty cousin," he cried, "you would stay to 
 see the fun at Saint Germain, would you? and got your- 
 self rarely frightened for your pains. Oh ! you need 
 not deny it. Hector has told me the whole story." 
 
 Gabrielle's face flushed angrily. 
 
 "And I call it very unkind of Hector, very uncalled
 
 48 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 for," she retorted, indignantly. "He was not present 
 to protect me from insult." 
 
 " Oh, there will be plenty of time for him to protect 
 you," laughed the duke, delighted at an opportunity to 
 tease the young girl. " When he is your husband !" 
 
 " That he will never be!" 
 
 " He swears he will!" 
 
 " And / swear he shall not!" And in her exaspera- 
 tion, Gabrielle clenched her hands until the nails in- 
 dented the pink palms. 
 
 The duchess made a movement to interrupt, but, 
 upon second thought refrained. Her gaze was fixed 
 anxiously upon her son. The effects of the wine the 
 young man had imbibed at the Rising Sun and else- 
 where, doubtless augmented by the heat of the room, 
 were becoming more and more apparent. His eyes 
 burned with a increased hectic light, and he staggered 
 a little as he leaned back against a table. 
 
 "Time will tell," he answered, with a laugh which 
 ended in the suspicion of a hiccough. " You did not 
 need Hector this time at all events. You had another 
 protector, and a worthy one, forsooth! A ragged 
 vagabond " 
 
 " He is no vagabond!" protested Gabrielle, hotly. 
 
 "And a Huguenot," proceeded the duke, without 
 noticing the interruption. "A Huguenot!" he re- 
 peated, and the word seemed to inflame still further 
 his already overheated brain. " May the devil, saving 
 your presence, fly away with them all! Enemies to 
 church and State, they should be ob obliterated, root 
 and branch! Root and branch! Ay, and so they will 
 be, before four and twenty hours have passed over our 
 head. Oh! Hector knows! Ask him! And I know, 
 I know too!"
 
 THE WHITE BADGE. 49 
 
 And he glanced round, as if challenging any one to 
 deny the statement. He evidently was in that talka- 
 tive mood when a drunken man scarcely knows what he 
 is saying and cares still less. 
 
 " You will see, " he went on recklessly. " To-morrow, 
 stroke of the tocsin Oh6 ! Paris will be gay at the 
 death-dance of the heretics." 
 
 Scarce understanding, Gabrielle had retreated to a 
 corner of the fireplace, and was listening in bewilder- 
 ment to her cousin's wild words. 
 
 More astute, and presaging she knew not what dis- 
 aster, the duchess, pale to the lips, rose from her chair, 
 and advancing, laid her hand upon her son's arm. 
 
 "Paul! Paul! What are you saying?" she implored 
 in low tense tones, " are you mad? Oh ! I beseech you, 
 if there are to be further scenes of horror, stay within 
 doors. Remain with me!" 
 
 He threw his arm about her with maudlin tenderness. 
 
 "Have no fear, mother mine!" he declared, with 
 difficulty. " We are all good Catholics here. All all 
 loyal to the king! Why shouldn't you know? Why, 
 shou shou See!" recovering himself with manifest 
 effort, and, with his disengaged hand drawing from his 
 pocket a little bundle, which he shook out and held up, 
 revealing a double cross formed of white linen. 
 
 " See ! With with this in my hat, and and a white 
 s-s-scarf on on my arm, I am safe! As are all all 
 who wear them. Remember remem if if " 
 
 He could articulate no more, and his head fell for- 
 ward. With an action full of infinite sorrow, full of 
 divine tenderness, his mother drew the drooping head 
 down upon her breast. Then she turned an agonized 
 look upon Gabrielle. Her lips moved, but they uttered 
 no sound. 
 4
 
 50 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The young girl understood. The mother would be 
 alone with her son. 
 
 Quietly, Gabrielle made her way to her own apart- 
 ment, there to lie awake half the night, dreading she 
 knew not what, but with a clear conviction in her mind 
 that a double white cross in the hat and a white scarf 
 upon the arm would be, in some mysterious way, a safe- 
 guard against impending evil.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BORROWED PLUMES. 
 
 RAOUL DE PUYCADERE moved uneasily, stretched his 
 arms, yawned, and then opened his eyes, still heavy with 
 sleep. 
 
 He found himself lying upon a bed in a plain but 
 comfortably furnished room. 
 
 The curtains were drawn closely in front of the win- 
 dows, shutting out every ray of light. 
 
 For a moment he could not recollect where he was, 
 and then like a flash it all came back to him the leav- 
 ing home, the attack on the highway, the gypsies, the 
 little landlady, and ah ! Gabrielle ! He leaped to his 
 feet and made sure that the precious handkerchief was 
 safe. Henceforth, to work now, hands and brain ! He 
 had an object in view, an object far dearer and worthier 
 than the mere conquering of place and fortune. 
 
 How long had he slept? He had not the slightest 
 idea. Upon re-entering the inn after the departure of 
 Gabrielle and her companions, Madame Goujon had 
 served him with what to a man in his famished condi- 
 tion seemed a sumptuous repast, and then the good 
 little woman had insisted upon his taking some repose, 
 which in truth he was nothing loath to do after the 
 rough treatment he had received from the highway 
 robbers and the exciting events of the day. 
 
 But now he was refreshed, the bruise on his forehead 
 had ceased throbbing, and he was quite himself again. 
 
 He hastily drew on his boots, which he had kicked
 
 52 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 off beside the bed, plunged his face in a basin of cold 
 water, and made his soiled and tattered clothes as 
 decent as possible, which, with all his efforts, however, 
 was not much to boast of. 
 
 Then going to the window he drew aside the curtain 
 and flung open the casement, murmuring laughingly, 
 as he did so : 
 
 " Enter, my friend the sun, and take a seat!" 
 
 And in truth it seemed as if his sunship did not dis- 
 dain the invitation, for from its position low down on 
 the horizon it flooded the modest room with a wealth 
 . of mellow rays. 
 
 The place below was very quiet now, most of the rev- 
 ellers having departed or retired temporarily to their 
 various abodes for supper, and Raoul, leaning his head 
 upon his hands, drew in long draughts of the cool even- 
 ing air. 
 
 Just below him was the little arbor, through the vines 
 of which he had first beheld the entrancing vision of 
 Gabrielle. Gabrielle who? Ay, that he must set him- 
 self to discover without delay. How lovely she was ! 
 How sparkling! How pure! And this jewel of great 
 price he had sworn to make his own ! And that oath 
 he would keep, though fifty ill-tempered cousins and 
 guardians thrust their ugly jowls between ! 
 
 His roseate reflections were interrupted by a gentle 
 tap upon the door, which, meeting at first with no re- 
 sponse, was repeated more vigorously. 
 
 With his castles in Spain thus rudely shattered, the 
 chevalier turned impatiently and cried out: 
 
 "Enter! Mordiou! Enter then!" 
 
 But all his resentment vanished, as the door opened, 
 disclosing the blushing, smiling face of his kind-hearted 
 landlady.
 
 BORROWED PLUMES. 53 
 
 "Pardon the intrusion, Monsieur le Chevalier," she 
 began, "but I thought perhaps monsieur might have 
 awakened and might need some refreshment. " 
 
 " Indeed you are too good, madame," returned Raoul, 
 politely, "or is it mademoiselle?" 
 
 "Oh, madame," answered Rose, with a little mow 
 which said as plainly as words could have done : worse 
 luck! 
 
 " I envy your husband. " 
 
 "Oh, monsieur! Is monsieur refreshed?" 
 
 "Entirely recovered, my good madanie." 
 
 " Then, if monsieur will follow me. " 
 
 Obediently Raoul followed his pretty conductress as 
 she tripped along the hall and into the principal room 
 of the cabaret, which served at once for dining-room, 
 cafe\ and pawnshop. There were only two or three 
 guests in the spacious apartment, and Rose led the way 
 to a table neatly spread with a white cloth, in an embra- 
 sure of a window looking out on the Place Royale. 
 
 She served him with her own hands, and, as she did 
 so, chatted away gayly and unreservedly, telling him 
 of her neighbors, her business, and her husband absent 
 on service of the king. 
 
 "And your good husband, Monsieur Goujon," began 
 Raoul. 
 
 "Sergeant," corrected Rose, "sergeant in the king's 
 musketeers. " 
 
 " I beg his pardon, Sergeant Goujon. Do you expect 
 him to return soon?" 
 
 " No, no, not for some time. The saints be praised !" 
 she added under her breath. 
 
 The chevalier laughed. 
 
 " I should be delighted to see him," he said, " and to 
 tell him all that I owe you. "
 
 54 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 Rose made no reply to this, but her face showed that 
 the opportunity the chevalier desired would not be one 
 of unmixed pleasure to her. 
 
 "There, monsieur," she said, to change the subject, 
 and waving her hand toward the table upon which was 
 spread the best that the house afforded. " There, mon- 
 sieur, I hope that will please you, though of course it 
 is not what you have been accustomed to. " 
 
 " My dearmadame," returned Raoul, enthusiastically, 
 "I assure you this is the best meal I have had for 
 months!" 
 
 Rose stared, dumb with surprise. What! Her 
 modest providing the best meal that this phenomenally 
 rich seigneur had had for months ! 
 
 Raoul in a moment saw his mistake, but before he 
 could invent some explanation of his thoughtless words, 
 Rose broke forth in a gay peal of laughter. " Monsieur 
 is a true Gascon!" she said, between her bursts of 
 merriment. " He cannot refrain from compliments, no 
 matter how absurd they may be. " 
 
 De Puycadere breathed freely. He was saved. 
 
 "No compliment to madame could be absurd," he 
 replied gallantly. 
 
 "Oh, monsieur, you make me blush." 
 
 " And the blush becomes you." 
 
 The little landlady could not conceal her pleasure at 
 the words and the look of admiration accompanying 
 them. The handsome young Gascon had made a de- 
 cided impression upon her susceptible, and, it must be 
 confessed, somewhat fickle nature. 
 
 "Ah!" she said with a sigh, half admiration, half 
 envy, "how fortunate monsieur is! How happy one 
 must be, not even to be able to count his fortune!" 
 
 "Yes, yes. I enjoy that happiness," said Raoul,
 
 BORROWED PLUMES. 55 
 
 drily and with perfect truth ; for, not possessing a soli- 
 tary sou, how could he be able to count it? 
 
 During the preceding conversation, a girl had entered 
 the room, and, seeing Madame Goujon, had timidly 
 approached. 
 
 "Madame Goujon." 
 
 At the sound of her name, Rose turned. 
 
 " Ah ! is it you, Mirza?" she said, pleasantly enough. 
 
 " Is Sergeant Goujon at home?" asked the Tzigana, in 
 evident embarrassment. 
 
 " The sergeant is away on duty. " 
 
 "I I wanted," faltered Mirza, glancing shyly at 
 Raoul, who was attacking with a vim the good things 
 before him, "but I am afraid I intrude." 
 
 De Puycadere looked up with a smile. 
 
 " A young lady so charming as yourself, Mademoi- 
 selle Mirza, can never intrude where I am," he said. 
 
 These words were by no means to Madame Goujon's 
 liking. She was too avaricious of the chevalier's pretty 
 speeches to share them with any one else. 
 
 " Well, speak, what do you want?" she asked a little 
 tartly, at the same time placing herself adroitly be- 
 tween Raoul and the gypsy. 
 
 "I do not dare to say," murmured Mirza, lowering 
 her eyes. " I am afraid of a refusal. " 
 
 Raoul tilted back his chair, thus spoiling Rose's little 
 ruse. 
 
 "Reassure yourself, mignonne," he said, encourag- 
 ingly, " our good Madame Goujon does not know how 
 to refuse. Come! Madame Goujon, lend this little girl 
 your sweet holiday smile and give her the courage she 
 lacks." 
 
 The persuasive accents quite melted Rose's temporary 
 resentment. "What a man!" she thought to herself.
 
 eg A GENTLEMAN FROM GASOONY. 
 
 " He makes one do whatever he wants !" Then turning 
 to the shrinking Tzigana, she asked again, but in a muck 
 milder tone than she had employed before : 
 
 " Well, what do you want?" 
 
 " Two months three months ago when we were here 
 before," began Mirza, trembling betwixt hope and fear, 
 " I left with you my pretty blue gown and my lace fichu. 
 The sergeant lent me four livres on them, and " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well, there is a ball this evening in the theatre, and 
 and my sweetheart you know, Pharos, to whom I 
 am to be married the day of the New Year wants to 
 take me there, and and you understand? I could 
 not dance in my everyday dress." 
 
 "And then?" demanded Madame Goujon. 
 
 "Then?" stammered poor Mirza, coloring in confu- 
 sion, "why why " 
 
 "Then, my dear Madame Goujon," interposed Raoul, 
 with a smile which showed his white teeth, " here is 
 the affair in two words : This young woman, not hav- 
 ing the money necessary to release the famous blue 
 gown, begs you to lend it to her upon her word, and 
 promises to bring it back to you to-morrow, only warn- 
 ing you in advance if it is a trifle rumpled, it is not 
 exactly she you must blame, but the arm of her lover. " 
 
 "Oh! how well monsieur speaks!" exclaimed Mirza, 
 admiringly, forgetting for the moment her timidity. 
 
 But Rose was not inclined to yield. 
 
 "But it is impossible!" she cried, raising her hands 
 at the audacity of the proposal. "Without money, 
 seigneur! What would my husband say?" 
 
 " Oh ! it seems that your husband is avaricious, " said 
 Raoul, determined to gain the point for the Tzigana, 
 who, with her companions, had been the means of sue-
 
 BORROWED PLUMES. 57 
 
 coring him from the ruffians who had attacked him. 
 " But fortunately the sin of avarice is unknown to you, 
 my dear Madame Goujon. So what the tight-fisted 
 husband would refuse, his charming little wife will 
 grant at once. Eh? Yes? Will she not?" 
 
 The appealing smile which accompanied these words 
 was too much for Rose's scruples. She laughingly as- 
 sented, and moved away toward a large armoire in one 
 corner of the room, where were stored pledges of every 
 description. 
 
 The Tzigana caught Raoul's hand, and before he 
 could prevent her raised it gratefully to her lips. Then 
 she hurried after Madame Goujon to obtain her treas- 
 ures, her brown face beaming with the anticipated de- 
 lights of the ball. 
 
 His appetite appeased, Raoul poured out a final glass 
 of the excellent wine his kind hostess had set before 
 him, and with that sense of well-being which a good 
 dinner bestows upon every one, leaned back in his 
 chair, and gazed absently out upon the square. 
 
 It was already dusk, and lights were beginning to 
 tremble here and there in the gloaming. 
 
 Suddenly, Raoul's ears were saluted by the tinkle of 
 mandolins, and then, in musical male voices, rang out 
 the words of the song he knew so well : 
 
 "Non loin du pays de Gascogne, 
 Mon pere avait un vieux chateau, 
 Fierement se doublant dans 1'eati, 
 Dans 1'eau verte de la Dordogne, 
 Un soir d'et6 j'ai pris mon vol, 
 Et j'ai fui la sombre tourelle ! 
 Mon aieul 6tait rossignol, 
 Ma grandmere 6tait hirondelle ! 
 
 .Raoul had leaped to his feet and was leaning out over
 
 ijg A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 the balcony. The song of his own sunny province, the 
 very song he had sung himself as he rode away from 
 the dismantled chateau of his ancestors! These singers 
 must be his countrymen. He started to hail them, and 
 then drew back at the sudden thought of his impov- 
 erished condition. He had not a marave'di to offer 
 them a glass of wine. 
 
 "They sing well," said a voice at his elbow, and 
 turning with a start he saw Madame Goujon, who had 
 approached noiselessly during the music. 
 
 "It is a song of my own country," he answered. 
 " They are Gascons ! Ah ! what would I not give to 
 press their honest hands!" 
 
 " And why not?" 
 
 The chevalier did not answer. A shadow passed 
 over his face, which quick-witted Rose was not slow to 
 seize and understand the meaning of. 
 
 "Bid them in, Monsieur le Chevalier," she said, 
 hurriedly. " I will order the wine for their entertain- 
 ment. Oh! let monsieur have no scruple," she added, 
 as Raoul hesitated. " Monsieur will repay me. I am 
 not so avaricious as my husband!" 
 
 Although his conscience pricked him considerably 
 for the deception he was practising, after a moment's 
 thought the chevalier decided to follow Madame Gou- 
 jon's suggestion, and signalled the singers to come up. 
 After all, in the prosperous days Dame Fortune assuredly 
 had in store for him, the little woman would not suffer 
 for her present kindness. 
 
 In a very few minutes the band of singers entered 
 the room, and instantly Raoul was among them, press- 
 ing their hands with all a Gascon's enthusiasm. 
 
 "Enter! enter! my good friends, my dear comrades! 
 I am Raoul de Puycadere, Puycadere the Gascon, your
 
 BORROWED PLUMES. 59 
 
 compatriot ! Let me look at you ! Let me hear your 
 voices again in the echoes of that dear southern land 
 whose memory will never be effaced from my heart!" 
 Once more the sweet melody stirred the air : 
 
 " Mon aieul etait rossignol, 
 Ma grandmere 6tait hirondelle !" 
 
 During the song, Madame Rose had caused a plenti- 
 ful supply of wine to be brought, and at the conclusion 
 she filled the glasses of the chevalier and his country- 
 men. 
 
 "Now," cried Raoul gayly, raising his glass high in 
 air, " we are going to drink to the fatherland!" 
 
 "To the fatherland!" 
 
 "Salute! lofty mountains! deep ravines! old castle 
 that was the cradle of my infancy ! Salute also to the 
 dear sun ! the clearest, the brightest, the most radiant 
 of all suns! Gascony! I salute thee and I drink to 
 thee!" 
 
 "To thee, Gascony!" cried the minstrels in unison, 
 and the toast was drunk amid the wildest enthusiasm. 
 
 As soon as the clamor had subsided, Raoul fell into 
 conversation with the young men and discovered that 
 the*y were mostly students who had travelled on foot to 
 Paris, earning their board and lodging by their music, 
 and, after witnessing the royal marriage, which took 
 place on a platform erected in front of Notre Dame, 
 were now returning home. The name of Puycadere 
 was too celebrated throughout Gascony not to be famil- 
 iar to many of them, but fortunately they made no 
 allusion to the impoverished condition of the present 
 representative of the family. 
 
 "To-morrow is to be a gala day at the Louvre," re- 
 marked one of the minstrels, "all the provinces send
 
 to A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 ambassadors to congratulate the king and queen ot 
 Navarre upon their union." 
 
 "And Gascony of course among them," observed the 
 chevalier, idly. 
 
 "Alas, no!" 
 
 "What, no! Gascony not represented ! How comes 
 that?" 
 
 " Monsieur Altemarre was selected to offer our con- 
 gratulations, but scarcely had he arrived in Paris when 
 he was stricken with a fever, and lies now at death's 
 door." 
 
 "And there is no one to take his place?" 
 
 "No one." 
 
 Amid the chorus of regrets at the untoward circum- 
 stance, Raoul was silent. An idea had entered his 
 head, an idea so daring that his pulses almost stopped 
 throbbing at the very contemplation of it. 
 
 The revelry, mingled with the sweet Gascon songs, 
 continued for some time longer, but finally the minstrels 
 were forced to take leave of their host and continue 
 their journey. " Take my embraces to our dear country, " 
 said Raoul, as he bade farewell to them, " and tell her 
 that I shall see her soon again perhaps, and that, at all 
 events, I will try not to end like the Gascon of the 
 ballad, with a rapier through my breast. Adieu, com- 
 rades, adieu ! and may the God of our fathers have ye 
 in his keeping!" 
 
 After the departure of the minstrels, the chevalier 
 fell into a deep train of thought, from which he was 
 aroused by Madame Rose, saying in a tone of sympathy : 
 
 "Your compatriots have deprived you of your spirits, 
 chevalier You are regretting the South. " 
 
 " No, madame, it is not that. But it makes me sick 
 at heart to think that on the morrow one of Navarre's
 
 BORROWED PLUMES. 6l 
 
 own provinces should have no congratulations to offer 
 its king. " 
 
 " Pouf ! that is easily remedied." 
 
 Raoul started, an eager question in his eyes. 
 
 " Monsieur will pardon the liberty. " 
 
 "Yes! yes! Go on!" 
 
 " Then, why need the illness of the poor gentleman 
 matter? Who so fit to act as ambassador for Gascony 
 as the most noble Chevalier de Puycadere himself." 
 
 His own thought! But how impossible of accom- 
 plishment ! 
 
 "Who so fit, indeed?" he answered, designating his 
 attire with a sarcastic gesture. " In this array the most 
 noble Chevalier de Puycadere would make a worthy 
 appearance at the Louvre." 
 
 Rose twisted a corner of her apron nervously between 
 her fingers. She had a proposition to make, but what 
 would this enormously rich gentleman think of it? 
 
 " If monsieur wishes, " she began timidly, " that ques- 
 tion is easily disposed of. In the armoire yonder I 
 have garments which would just fit monsieur. And it 
 would rejoice me to lend them to him for so worthy an 
 object." 
 
 Raoul was not long in deciding. Nothing venture, 
 nothing win, must be his motto at this stage of the game 
 So he accepted Madame Rose's offer with words so 
 warm in their appreciation of her kindness that the 
 little landlady's cheeks were dyed crimson with pleasure. 
 
 Half an hour afterward the chevalier surveyed him- 
 self with proud gratification in the mirror which hung 
 above the mantel in his room. And indeed a most at- 
 tractive picture he made in a gray doublet embroidered 
 with silver, boots of black leather, and a handsome violet 
 velvet cloak thrown gracefully over one shoulder.
 
 6 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The die was cast ! With eyes flashing with excite- 
 ment and heart beating high with hope, he cried exul- 
 tantly: 
 
 "Gabrielle, the promise shall be kept! To-morrow 
 I enter the Louvre I"
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A DANGEROUS GAME. 
 
 THERE was a brilliant fete in progress at the Louvre, 
 the culmination of all the festivities in honor of the 
 royal marriage. 
 
 On this eve of the Feast of St. Bartholomew, the count- 
 less windows of the historic palace were brilliantly 
 illuminated. The neighboring streets, usually so quiet 
 after the bell of the church of Saint Germain 1'Auxer- 
 rois had sounded the hour of nine, were now filled with 
 a jostling, tumultuous crowd, through which the coach- 
 men and link-boys found difficulty in forcing their way. 
 It seemed as if the residents of Paris and the thousands 
 of Huguenot visitors with which the fair city was 
 thronged from end to end were bent this evening on 
 making the Louvre their objective point. 
 
 There was much scope for wondering reflection in 
 the sight of the leaders of the two parties, who had so 
 lately been at one another's throats, now entering the 
 palace side by side in apparent amity. The rabble on 
 both sides were not so ready to bury the hatchet, as the 
 sharp words that passed here and there in the crowd 
 abundantly testified. There was little recourse to any- 
 thing more than words, however, as the Huguenots were 
 too genuinely rejoiced at what looked like the dawning 
 of a new era and the end of persecution to care to precipi- 
 tate fresh dissensions, and the Catholics, although the 
 majority of them were secretly dissatisfied and won-
 
 <J^ A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 dered how their chief the Duke of Guise could so 
 easily forgive Admiral Coligny, whom he had always 
 accused of instigating the assassination of his father, 
 Duke Francois, were bound to follow as much as possible 
 the example of their superiors. 
 
 Perhaps there would have been less wonderment and a 
 far less degree of dissatisfaction amidst the rank and file 
 of the Catholic party, could it have had knowledge of a 
 scene which took place that very afternoon in one of the 
 apartments of the Louvre, a scene participated in by 
 King Charles himself, Catherine de Medicis the queen 
 mother, who possessed ten times the courage of her weak 
 and vacillating son, and the Duke of Guise. 
 
 The king, white with terror, apprehension, sus- 
 pense, and doubt making him tremble in every limb, - 
 was pacing nervously to and fro. 
 
 And indeed there was good reason for his discomfort 
 in the astounding and terrible proposition that had just 
 been made to him nothing less indeed than a whole- 
 sale massacre of the Huguenots. 
 
 The plot had already been planned in all its details 
 by the Duke de Guise and the queen-mother, and all the 
 arrangements carried out by the duke. Three o'clock 
 in the morning of the feast of St. Bartholomew, when 
 most people would be sleeping in their beds, was the 
 time fixed for the beginning of the slaughter. 
 
 It was arranged that the signal should be a pistol- 
 shot, to be answered by a note from the deep-throated 
 bell of Saint Germain 1'Auxerrois. 
 
 Then, from hiding-places already fixed upon, the 
 soldiers were to spring forth and do their deadly and 
 cowardly work. 
 
 Such people who were not Huguenots were to be 
 secretly warned to wear marks of distinction consisting
 
 A DANGEROUS GAMfc. 65 
 
 of a white linen band on their arms and a white cross 
 on their caps. 
 
 But one thing now remained, and that was to unfold 
 the plan to the king, who had hitherto been kept in ig- 
 norance of it, and to prevail upon him to sign the order 
 for the scene of butchery. 
 
 This proved to be not so easy a task as had been 
 hoped for, although both the duke and the queen-mother 
 were confident of ultimate victory. 
 
 Shocked as the king was at the first intimation of 
 what was proposed, his weak brain was gradually being 
 impressed by the specious arguments set before him. 
 
 He tottered rather than walked about the room, now 
 upholding the prepared massacre, now condemning it 
 swearing by all that was holy that the Huguenots had 
 never been his enemies, but always his best friends. 
 
 Catherine de Medicis, through it all, remained as 
 determined and imperturbable as the wife of the Scotch 
 thane when tempting her hesitating husband to the 
 murder of Duncan. 
 
 " It is too late to turn back, " she said, with cold de- 
 liberation. " The rotten limb must be torn from the 
 tree. If yon hesitate now, the chance of ridding France 
 of its enemies, of which Admiral Coligny is the chief, 
 will be forever lost. " 
 
 " Believe me, sire, this trumped-up peace will never 
 last," added the Duke of Guise. " The two parties can 
 never be reconciled. One or the other must go to the 
 wall. War is inevitable. Better to win a battle in 
 Paris, where we hold the Huguenot leaders in our 
 power, than put it to hazard in the field. " 
 
 Charles sank into a chair, groaning and burying hi* 
 perspiring face in his hands. The two conspirators re- 
 doubled their arguments After a struggle of more 
 5
 
 66 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 than an hour, the king, wrought to a still more violent 
 state of agitation, yet hesitated, when the queen-mother, 
 fearing lest, if there were further delay, all would be 
 discovered, exclaimed in a burst of fury, partially real, 
 partially, for a purpose, assumed : 
 
 "Since you forsake your duty, permit me, sire, to 
 retire to some other part of the kingdom!" 
 
 Goaded to desperation, and thoroughly alarmed at 
 this threat, for he was as dependent as a child upon his 
 mother, Charles leaped from his chair and clutched at 
 the order which lay upon a table near at hand. 
 
 "By God's death!" he shrieked hoarsely, "since you 
 think proper to kill the admiral, I consent ! But all the 
 Huguenots in Paris as well, in order that there remain 
 not one to reproach me afterward!" And with a fever- 
 ish hand he signed the fatal document. "Give your 
 orders at once!" 
 
 Uttering an exultant cry, young Guise seized the paper 
 and, with scant ceremony, dashed out of the room. 
 
 No sooner had he disappeared than the king began to 
 rave and tear his hai- like a madman. But it was too 
 late now. The fate ol Admiral Coligny and of thou- 
 sands of others with him was already sealed. 
 
 Save to the chosen few, all this was as yet unknown 
 in Paris, and no one was mare ignorant of the approach- 
 ing nights and days of terroi than Raoul de Puycadere, 
 as on his audacious mission he with difficulty threaded 
 his way amidst the multitude in front of the Louvre. 
 
 At last he managed to reach the entrance, where he 
 was challenged by a guard who wore the uniform of the 
 king's musketeers. 
 
 "I am the ambassador from Gascony," said Raoul 
 boldly. 
 
 The guard gave him a look of scrutiny, and then, im*
 
 A DANGEROUS GAME. 67 
 
 pressed by the richness of his dress and the confidence 
 of his bearing, allowed him to pass. 
 
 With pulses beating far more quickly than usual 
 Raoul followed three young men, in sumptuous attire, 
 up the broad marble staircase and along a brilliantly 
 lighted corridor, until he came to a wide doorway 
 screened by curtains of violet velvet embroidered with 
 silver fleurs-de-lis. 
 
 Through this doorway the three young men, who 
 were a few paces in front of him, disappeared. 
 
 Raoul hesitated a moment, and then, drawing a quick 
 breath and uprearing his head haughtily, he thrust 
 aside the curtain. 
 
 What a scene met his eyes! 
 
 The magnificent apartment, with its elaborate decora- 
 tions of white and gold, was illuminated with thousands 
 of candles in enormous chandeliers of Venetian glass 
 suspended from the ceiling and in sconces ranged at in- 
 tervals along the wall. Over the floor inlaid in intri- 
 cate patterns of rare and costly woods, moved an ever- 
 changing kaleidoscope of exquisite colors, the sheen of 
 silk and satin and the gleam of jewels. 
 
 For an instant Raoul was dazed, and then he was 
 roused by the voice of a page, demanding his name and 
 titles. Instantly he recovered his self-possession and 
 answered in a firm voice : 
 
 "The Chevalier Raoul de Puycadere, ambassador 
 from Gascony." 
 
 As the page repeated these words, the three young 
 men, who had preceded the young Gascon, started, 
 faced about, and turned their eyes wonderingly upon 
 his soi-disant Excellency. 
 
 Then they hurriedly exchanged a few words. Raoul 
 caught two sentences.
 
 68 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "It is not he!" 
 
 " Ma foi, no! He is at the point of death." 
 Here was danger in the very beginning. These 
 young men evidently knew the real ambassador, and 
 were the deception discovered before he could present 
 himself to the King of Navarre, the audacious chevalier 
 stood an excellent chance of being summarily ejected 
 from the presence chamber. 
 
 The young men were apparently about to address 
 him, but before he could formulate a plan of procedure 
 a fortunate interruption took place. 
 
 A slender, graceful figure stepped hastily toward him, 
 and Raoul looked once more upon that radiant face 
 which had haunted his vision, sleeping and waking, for 
 the past twenty-four hours. 
 
 Her robe of white satin revealed the charming con- 
 tours of her snowy neck and rounded arms, and the 
 masses of her golden hair were piled high above her 
 forehead and adorned with a chaplet of pearls. Raoul 
 caught his breath aad, forgetting all else, eagerly drank 
 in her exquisite beauty until the violet orbs fell beneath 
 the passionate ardor of his gaze. Then, remembering 
 himself, he murmured: 
 " I have kept my promise." 
 She smiled a little and answered gently: 
 " I was not mistaken. It is really you." 
 "Really I." 
 
 " But how did you manage to obtain an entrance?" 
 These words recalled to Raoul the danger of his posi- 
 tion, and forced him to realize that this was no moment 
 for soft dalliance. After a quick glance at the group of 
 three, who were apparently waiting an opportunity to ad- 
 dress him, he moved a step nearer to the one he knew as 
 yet only as Gabrielle, and said hurriedly, in a low voice:
 
 A DANGEROUS GAME. 6f 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I am in peril here. But you can aid 
 to save me." 
 
 " I !" she faltered, overcome with astonishment. 
 
 "Yes. I beseech you, ask no explanation. Deign 
 only to be my pilot on this sea which I navigate for the 
 first time." 
 
 " I I don't understand." 
 
 " Don't try to understand, for the present. Do you 
 see those three men standing near the doorway? That 
 gentleman on the left, the one with the long nose who 
 is he?" 
 
 "M. de Chateauneuf." 
 
 " And his chief quality?" 
 
 Despite Mademoiselle de Vrissac's amazement and 
 curiosity, she could not refrain from a little laugh. 
 
 "Why, he he is always in love." 
 
 " I understand. I know his type by heart. And that 
 one with the fierce mustache?" 
 
 "M. de Montgiron." 
 
 "A soldier?" 
 
 " Yes, talking always of the battle of Mons." 
 
 " Because he was never there. Exactly. And that 
 other with the melancholy eyes?" 
 
 " M. de Brantome, a writer." 
 
 "Thanks, mademoiselle. Forgive me, you shall 
 understand all, <z//, before the evening is over." 
 
 And with a low bow and a last look, which 
 brought the blushes to her cheeks, he turned and 
 moved away in the direction of the group they had 
 been discussing, leaving the young lady completely 
 mystified and, it must be confessed, a trifle piqued 
 as well. 
 
 As he approached the young men, one of them ad- 
 vanced a little and addressed him first:
 
 yo A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONV. 
 
 "Pardon, monsieur, but we take a keen interest in 
 you. " 
 
 "Indeed," returned Raoul, with an affectation of 
 indifference. 
 
 " Yes. The fact is, the ambassador from Gascony is 
 well known to us, and you are not he. " 
 
 "Mordiou!" and Raoul laughed as though intensely 
 amused. " I am not surprised at your shall I say sus- 
 picion but Monsieur Altemarre is an old friend of 
 my family, and, hearing that I was in Paris, sent for me 
 and begged me to take his place, in order that his un- 
 fortunate illness should not prevent Gascony offering 
 her congratulations to her king. " 
 
 The expression of the young man changed. Seem- 
 ingly he was a little in doubt still, however, and 
 Raoul hastened to remove his suspicions entirely. 
 
 " I trust you do not doubt me, Monsieur de Chateau- 
 neuf," he continued, with a slight emphasis upon the 
 name. 
 
 " What, I have the honor of being known to your ex- 
 cellency!" exclaimed the other, in surprise. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," said De Puycadere, lowering his 
 voice a little. " I have been in Paris only three days, 
 and yet twenty pretty mouths have recounted to me the 
 story of your successes in the lists of love. " 
 
 De Chateauneuf lowered his eyes in mock modesty 
 and ejaculated a low "Oh! monsieur!" And then he 
 added with a low bow and a fatuous smile : 
 
 "Your excellency is evidently a person of discern- 
 ment." 
 
 The chevalier thought to himself with satisfaction: 
 " One supporter gained !" Then, turning to another of 
 the gentlemen, he addressed him with somewhat exag- 
 gerated respect:
 
 A DANGEROUS GAME. <Jl 
 
 " Monsieur de Montgiron, a kinsman of mine had the 
 honor of fighting at your side in the battle of Mons." 
 
 "Really!" 
 
 " A battle of giants ! for, although victory was for an 
 instant in doubt, genius and courage held till the last 
 instant the sheaf of flags, one of which, they tell me, 
 was all crimson with your blood. " 
 
 However open to doubt this statement may have been, 
 the bright flush of pleasure which dyed the doughty 
 warrior's cheek was undeniable. 
 
 "Your excellency," he stammered. 
 
 "Two!" thought the chevalier. But there was still 
 one more to be placated. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur de Brantome, permit the Chevalier 
 de Puycadere to express to you the pleasure he feels at 
 this meeting. Your works are well known in Gascony, 
 and I congratulate you on the stir they have made 
 there. " 
 
 "You overwhelm me, Monsieur le Chevalier," mur- 
 mured the author, as he reflected, " Really, these Gas- 
 cons are charming." 
 
 "Three!" 
 
 But, successful as he had been thus far, Raoul had 
 only passed the outposts. The real danger was yet to be 
 faced, and that too without delay. Already bearing 
 down upon him was an old man, glittering with jewelled 
 orders, as stiff as a pikestaff and thin almost to emaci- 
 ation. 
 
 Presaging his peril, the young Gascon whispered to 
 De Brantome, who happened to be standing next him : 
 
 "Who is this person?" 
 
 "Count d'Avreux, grand master of ceremonies." 
 
 With difficulty, the chevalier repressed a startled 
 "Mordiou!" The count was already bending his long
 
 7 2 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCON V. 
 
 body before him with elaborate courtesy, and in an- 
 other moment had addressed him in a thin, monotonous 
 voice : 
 
 " Pardon, a thousand timei pardon, your excellency, 
 but for many years has been incumbent upon me the 
 honorable and delicate mission of exacting at the 
 Louvre the fulfilment of the immutable laws of eti- 
 quette." He paused a moment to take breath, while 
 Raoul wondered uneasily what this long preamble 
 might forebode. "And I recognize to my confusion 
 that a very grave infringement has been committed in 
 respect to you!" 
 
 "An infringement!" muttered the self-styled ambas- 
 sador with a qualm of uneasiness. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, and I must beg your excellency 
 without delay to furnish me with " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Your letters of credit." 
 
 Audacity must be the cue now, and again audacity, 
 and still again audacity. 
 
 "Oh, very well, very well, monsieur," replied Raonl, 
 with an assumption of easy carelessness. " We Gascons 
 do not insist to such a point upon all little details of 
 etiquette. I excuse your forgetfulness. Let us speak 
 no more of it." 
 
 The dignified master of ceremonies started as if he 
 had been shot. 
 
 "Speak no more of it!" he exclaimed, in boundless 
 surprise and indignation. " Speak no more of it!" 
 
 "Certainly not, my dear count," was the cool reply. 
 "My instructions are to present my letter and offer 
 Gascony's congratulations to their Majesties in person. 
 Mordiou, kindly conduct me into the presence without 
 more ado."
 
 A DANGEROUS GAME. 73 
 
 For an instant the count hesitated, and then impressed 
 by the young man's lordly air, he concluded it wisest 
 to yield and answered briefly : 
 
 " Follow me !" 
 
 Immediately after his conductor, who proceeded with 
 slow and stately step, Raoul threaded the mazes of the 
 brilliantly attired throng, until he found himself at the 
 foot of a dais, and realized that he was before the royal 
 couple, and, like a desperate gambler, prepared him- 
 self for the cast of the die, which was to make him or 
 mar him beyond repair. 
 
 At this time, Henri of Navarre, afterward the pride 
 and glory of all France, whose very name was destined 
 to be a watchword through succeeding generations, was 
 barely twenty a young man with a keen eye, black 
 hair cut very close, thick eyebrows, a nose curved like 
 an eagle's, and a growing mustache and beard. 
 
 His bride, Marguerite de Valois, or, as she was more 
 familiarly known, Queen Margot, was " the pearl of the 
 crown of France," and, indeed, in beauty and accom- 
 plishments there were few in that court of lovely and 
 brilliant women who could vie with her. She had 
 raven hair and a brilliant complexion, red lips, a grace- 
 ful neck, and a somewhat full but still exquisite 
 figure. 
 
 To look at her was enough to silence the scandalous 
 rumors, rife at court, that the young husband was not too 
 desperately in love with his beautiful bride, however 
 much credit might be given to that other rumor that 
 the consent of the lovely princess had been given only 
 after long resistance on her part. Indeed there were 
 those who stated, and with authority, that at the nup- 
 tial ceremony, when asked if she consented, Marguerite 
 appeared to hesitate for a moment; but her brother the
 
 J4 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONV. 
 
 king put his hand a little roughly on her head and 
 made her lower it in token of assent. 
 
 However this may be, upon the night of the reception 
 of the Louvre the two appeared to be on the most ex- 
 cellent terms with one another. Marguerite was gra- 
 cious and smiling, and her kingly husband was cordial- 
 ity itself. 
 
 Raoul bowed his knee before his sovereigns with 
 many an inward tremor. It was only by the exercise 
 of a powerful will that he kept himself from turning 
 tail and incontinently running away, and more than 
 once he longed for the floor to open and swallow him 
 up. 
 
 And yet, in spite of all his trouble, he realized dimly 
 that standing at the side of the queen was a golden- 
 haired figure in robes of shimmering white. 
 
 As to one speaking a long distance away, he listened 
 to the high-pitched voice of the old master of ceremo- 
 nies, addressing the king: 
 
 " May it please your Majesty, I have the honor to 
 present his excellency the ambassador from Gascony. 
 He insists on giving into your Majesty's own hand his 
 letters of credit, and, although it is contrary to all es- 
 tablished rules of etiquette, I beg grace of your most 
 high, most mighty, most merciful, most gracious " 
 
 "And most weary," curtly interrupted Henri, who 
 had a hatred of long speeches and pompous orations. 
 
 The count retired in confusion, while the young 
 queen raised a fan to her lips to conceal the smile which 
 she could not wholly repress. 
 
 Suddenly Raoul became aware that the king was 
 speaking to him : 
 
 "Your credentials, young sir!" 
 
 With a gulp and turning ghastly pale, the chevalier
 
 A DANGEROUS GAME. 75 
 
 drew from beneath his doublet a paper he had previously 
 prepared and laid it in the king's outstretched hand. 
 Henri unfolded it, and this is what he read : 
 
 " The Chevalier Raoul de Puycadere humbly craves 
 pardon for the stratagem he has practised to gain his 
 Majesty's ear, and begs his Majesty to bestow upon him 
 such position where himself and his sword may prove 
 their devotion to their king. " 
 
 The king of Navarre could scarce believe his eyes. 
 Twice he perused the extraordinary document; then 
 his brow grew black as night, and, smiting the paper 
 fiercely with his hand, he exclaimed passionately: 
 
 "Art mad? Ventre Saint Gris! Dost think Harr* 
 of Navarre can be tricked with impunity?"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FROM FAILURE SUCCESS. 
 
 ALL was over! 
 
 Raoul de Puycadere knew that he had staked and 
 lost. More than this, his present condition was worse, 
 far worse than his former. 
 
 He trembled from hand to foot ; his recreant tongue 
 clove to the roof of his mouth and refused to utter a 
 syllable. 
 
 Lucky for him was it that there were others to plead 
 for him. 
 
 While the king was engaged in deciphering the sense 
 of the audacious paper, Mademoiselle de Vrissac found 
 opportunity to whisper imploringly in the queen's ear: 
 " Madame, it is he, my preserver, masquerading as an 
 ambassador from Gascony. " 
 
 Now, Gabrielle de Vrissac was decidedly Marguerite's 
 favorite maid of honor, and the queen's kindness had 
 inspired in the young girl a confidence which she gave 
 to no one else, not even to her aunt ; dearly as she loved 
 the latter, there was a little fear mingled with her 
 affection. So she had already told the queen the whole 
 story of her adventure at Saint Germain, and now, at 
 the eager pleading words, Marguerite, always interested 
 in a love affair and whose divination of such things 
 was as keen as a hound's scent for game, immediately 
 fuetaed that her favorite was more than ordinarily in-
 
 FROM FAILURE SUCCESS. Jf 
 
 terested in the handsome stranger, and resolved upon 
 the spot to become his champion. 
 
 Before her angry husband could utter anything fur- 
 ther, she laid one white hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Sire, two words in private. " 
 
 The king's face softened, and he made a gesture to 
 the courtiers surrounding them to retire, a command 
 which was instantly obeyed. 
 
 Only Raoul remained standing with his eyes glued to 
 the floor, anticipating he knew not what dire punish- 
 ment to fall upon him. 
 
 "Well, Margot?" said the king. 
 
 "May I not see this gentleman's credentials ?** 
 
 Silently the king handed her the paper. 
 
 As she read it, she broke out into a merry laugh, and 
 at the sound Henri's stern features relaxed in a smile. 
 
 " Ah, sire, le pauvre diable ! Surely his offence is not 
 beyond pardon. And so daring a man would be equally 
 so in your service." 
 
 " But " began the king. 
 
 " No buts, " interrupted Marguerite, with a bewitch- 
 ing smile. " What, after our compact, will you refuse 
 me the first request I make of you?" 
 
 At the words " our compact, " the king's mind reverted 
 to a scene which had taken place between them two 
 days before, in which Marguerite had thrown herself 
 upon his forbearance and frankly avowed that on her 
 part there was no love for the man she had married and 
 that she looked upon their union simply as a political 
 alliance. 
 
 Although the heart of Henri himself was at first not 
 too deeply affected, he could not but feel a little piqued 
 at this avowal, and perhaps it was the beginning of the 
 love he afterward gave his wife. Just at the moment,
 
 yg A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 however, he was too conscious of the benefits accruing 
 to himself from his marriage to show too keenly his 
 displeasure. So, after a slight hesitation, he had an- 
 swered : 
 
 " I will not ask you to love me, but, if you will be my 
 ally, I could brave anything; but with you as my 
 enemy, I am lost." 
 
 "Oh, your enemy? Never, sire!" 
 
 " But my ally?" 
 
 " Most assuredly. " 
 
 And so, between husband and wife, was formed a 
 frank and loyal alliance. 
 
 As Henri remembered this he felt that she was right; 
 that he could not refuse the first request of this beau- 
 tiful creature, whom, moreover, he was beginning to 
 find adorable. But, just as his lips framed themselves 
 to give consent, a quick suspicion flashed across his 
 brain, and he glanced a little frowningly at the bent 
 head of the chevalier and then at his wife. Was this 
 man, for whom she pleaded, perchance her lover? 
 
 But no sooner was the suspicion formed than Margue- 
 rite, quick-witted as she was, guessed what was passing 
 in his mind, and, advancing a step closer, she whispered 
 a few words in his ear. 
 
 As by magic, the king's countenance cleared, and he 
 turned his gaze in the direction of Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac, who at a little distance was watching the inter- 
 view with parted lips and eager eyes. 
 
 "Ventre Saint Gris!" he said, with a low laugh. 
 "Lies the wind in that quarter? Well, have it your 
 own way. What shall his punishment be?" 
 
 "Make him one of your equerries." 
 
 " Eh ! But you go far ! Bien, so be it ! Monsieur le 
 Chevalier," he continued, turning to Raoul, "at the
 
 FROM FAILURE SUCCESS. 79 
 
 queen's intercession, you are pardoned. And, at her 
 request, I appoint you my equerry. Your duties begin 
 on the morrow." 
 
 Scarce believing his senses, Raoul sank on one knee. 
 It was as if Paradise had opened before one who had 
 already felt the pangs of the place of torture. 
 
 "Rise, monsieur, rise," said the gentle voice of the 
 queen. 
 
 The chevalier obeyed, the color returning to his 
 cheeks and the light to his eyes. 
 
 " Ah, madame," he faltered," I am forever prostate at 
 the feet of your merciful Majesty. It is only now, 
 madame, that I comprehend the extent of my au- 
 dacity. " 
 
 Marguerite smiled. 
 
 "In truth, chevalier," she said, kindly, "you must 
 have had a very powerful motive to make the Queen of 
 Navarre your accomplice in such a comedy. And I 
 think I guess it. " She motioned Gabrielle, who was 
 blushing like a rose, to approach. " Reserve your 
 thanks for Mademoiselle de Vrissac, for all your good 
 fortune is due to her. " 
 
 Raoul de Puycadere never knew how he managed to 
 take leave of the royal couple. Half dazed, he found 
 himself walking by the side of the maid of honor through 
 the magnificent apartment. He took no notice of the 
 curious looks cast at him. But two thoughts occupied 
 his mind. His object was accomplished: he was 
 equerry to the king of Navarre; and from the queen's 
 mouth he knew that he owed his success to the woman 
 he loved, to Mademoiselle de Vrissac (at last he knew 
 her name). 
 
 Gabrielle, guessing something of the tumult that 
 raged within his breast led the way to the deep em-
 
 SO A GNTLKMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 brasure of a window, where there was a broad seat, 
 screened by heavy curtains which fell from the ceiling 
 to the floor. 
 
 Seating herself here, she motioned the new equerry 
 to a place by her side, an invitation Raoul was nothing 
 loath to accept. 
 
 By this time he had recovered much of his customary 
 equilibrium, and his first words were an outpouring of 
 thanks for the service she had rendered him, an out- 
 burst which Gabrielle gently checked. "Indeed, it 
 was nothing," she said. "I beg you to speak no 
 more. " 
 
 "But I must." 
 
 " Then if you must speak," she answered, with a laugh 
 and glance from beneath her heavily fringed eyelids 
 which set the young man's heart on fire, "tell me of 
 yourself, chevalier, of your past, of your hopes " 
 
 " My past does not exist, mademoiselle," interrupted 
 Raoul, eagerly. " As for my hopes, my ambitions, they 
 are so great, so foolish that my heart would scarce dare 
 to say them to my reason." 
 
 The violet eyes were lowered now, the fair head was 
 bent, and a faint blush tinged the perfect oval of the 
 cheek half turned away from Raoul. 
 
 " I I do not understand, monsieur. " 
 
 " May I make you understand?" 
 
 But to the eager question there was no answer. 
 Gently, timidly he took one of the little hands that lay 
 idly in her lap. She did not draw it away. 
 
 Emboldened, Raoul continued in a voice low, but 
 thrilling with passion : 
 
 " Would you know the one hope of my life, the star 
 n which my envious gaze is fixed? 'Tis you, Gabrielle, 
 you! You whom I loved the first moment I saw you,
 
 FROM FAILURE SUCCESS. 8l 
 
 you whom I shall love till eternity. Is there no word 
 of hope for me? No word to tell me that some day, 
 perhaps, my love will end by touching your heart?" 
 
 "Would such a hope render you happy?" 
 
 " Ah ! so happy that, through gratitude, I should go 
 straight on high to thank the saints in Paradise!" 
 
 A lovely smile played about the exquisite lips as they 
 murmured in tones so low that Raoul had to bend his 
 head close to catch the words: 
 
 " Go, then. The road is open!" 
 
 With a cry Raoul caught her in his arms, close to his 
 heart, and for a moment the two were forgetful of all 
 else in that supreme happiness which comes only to 
 lovers in this workaday world. 
 
 Gabrielle was the first to recover herself. Remem- 
 bering the semi-public place in which they were, she 
 gently withdrew herself from her lover's embrace. 
 
 " You love me?" murmured Raoul, half beside him- 
 self with joy. " Me? Is it possible, a poor chevalier 
 without a possession in the world save his sword?" 
 
 Gabrielle turned upon him a look of amazement. 
 
 " What ! nothing in the world save your sword ! But 
 the ancient domain of Puycadere with its dozen 
 towers " 
 
 Raoul's heart sank, and a horrible feeling of shame 
 and embarrassment took possession of him. Curses on 
 his glib tongue that had got him into this awkward 
 predicament! It was laggard enough now, however, 
 for he could only stammer out some incoherent words. 
 Seeing his confusion, Gabrielle's lips twitched. She 
 longed to laugh outright. She was certain now of the 
 truth, which, as a matter of fact, she had strongly 
 suspected before. Poor fellow ! And yet an irresistible 
 spirit of mischief seized her, and she could lot resist
 
 82 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 the impulse to torment him, and at the same time per- 
 haps to teach his Gascon tongue a lesson. 
 
 Where is the woman yet who, sure of her power, bien 
 entendu, does not take a keen delight in tantalizing the 
 man she loves? 
 
 "Do you know I long to see Gascony!" proceeded 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac, watching out of the corner of 
 her eye the luckless chevalier, who was on pins and 
 needles at her every word. " Gascony which contains 
 your splendid estate. I think of those hundred vassals, 
 whose devotion and fidelity you praised so highly, and 
 who must at this very moment be so sad at your absence. " 
 
 "Mordiou! They have ample to do, " faltered poor 
 Raoul, scarcely knowing what he was saying. 
 
 "Yes, and your horses, your fields, your kennels!" 
 continued his fair tormentor vivaciously. " How many 
 hounds have you in each?" 
 
 Raoul was silent. 
 
 "Well, you don't answer me? How thoughtful you 
 have become, almost sad! What is the matter, cheva- 
 lier?" 
 
 "The matter is," burst out Raoul, unable to contain 
 himself longer " the matter is that I have nothing at 
 all." 
 
 "What do you mean?" exclaimed Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac, in affected surprise. 
 
 " I mean that if it was upon the rich and powerful 
 suzerain you deigned to smile just now " 
 
 " Then you have no chateau?" 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 " But?" 
 
 "It is in ruins." 
 
 " And the towers?" 
 
 "They lie upon the ground"
 
 FROM FAILURE SUCCESS. 8j 
 
 " But your vassals! How many vassals have you?" 
 
 "Two." 
 
 "Two!" 
 
 " Who would have loved you as a hundred. And s 
 would my poor Rustaud." 
 
 "Who is Rustaud?" 
 
 "Rustaud," stammered the chevalier, overwhelmed 
 with shame " Rustaud is my kennels." 
 
 "But then, chevalier, you have deceived me!" 
 
 The accent was severe, but if De Puycadere had 
 dared to look in her face, he would have found that its 
 expression told another tale. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, desperately, "yes, as I have 
 others, but you had not told me then that I might hope 
 for your love. Now, I can no longer lie, and I tell you 
 all." 
 
 " Perhaps even what you have told me to-night is not 
 true," she said, in a much gentler tone. 
 
 "Never!" he cried, passionately. "Never! See! 
 Here is your handkerchief which I have worn next my 
 heart since the moment I first met you ! Yes, I am 
 poor, an adventurer ! But loved by you, you shall see 
 of what I am capable ! My love will accomplish mira- 
 cles! And if, perchance, you should desire for your 
 golden head a crown made of stars, I would fly to the 
 skies to gather for you the most brilliant!" 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac laughed a silvery, happy 
 laugh. 
 
 "You incorrigible Gascon!" she exclaimed. 
 
 And then with one of those sudden changes of mood 
 and manner which were so natural to her, and which 
 set upon her with peculiar charm, she added, almost 
 caressingly : 
 
 "Think no more of your poverty. One who asks
 
 84 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONT. 
 
 aught else of love save love itself does not deserve to 
 be loved. " 
 
 A torrent of rapturous words rushed to Raoul's lips, 
 but their flow was interrupted by the appearance be- 
 tween the curtains of a page, who announced that the 
 queen was about to retire and demanded the presence 
 of Mademoiselle de Vrissac. 
 
 "Say to her majesty I will join her instantly," re- 
 plied Gabrielle. 
 
 " One moment," pleaded Raoul, as the page departed. 
 "When shall I see you again?" 
 
 Gabrielle started, and for the first time her thoughts 
 turned toward her aunt and her cousin, the vicomte. 
 What would her guardians say to a Huguenot suitor? 
 A Huguenot! Ah! And an iron hand seemed to grasp 
 her heart as she remembered the maudlin confidences 
 of Paul de Bassompierre. What had he said? " Within 
 four and twenty hours Paris will be gay at the death- 
 dance of the heretics." Then Raoul, her lover, yes 
 and the man that she loved with the whole strength of 
 her virgin heart was in danger! But the duke had 
 said too that all who wore a white cross on their hat and 
 a white scarf on their arm were safe. 
 
 There was no time to lose. The queen even now 
 might be impatient. Under the chevalier's wondering 
 eyes she tore her handkerchief with feverish haste into 
 the rude semblance of a double cross, and snatching up 
 Raoul's hat from where it lay on the window-seat, she 
 deftly fastened it in the front. 
 
 Then turning to the bewildered young man, she 
 
 caught the other handkerchief which he still held 
 
 in his hands and tied it about his arm just above his 
 
 elbow. 
 
 "There is no time for explanation," she said, raising
 
 FROM FAILURE SUCCESS. 85 
 
 her lovely eyes to his with a world of entreaty in their 
 violet depths, and something suspiciously like a sob in 
 her voice. " Keep these concealed until you have left 
 the palace. But promise me that you will wear them! 
 Wear them, for my sake! Promise me promise me, 
 Raouir
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE EVE OF SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. 
 
 PUZZLED as he was, what could Raoul de Puycadere 
 do but consent? And no sooner was the promise given 
 than Gabrielle was forced to hasten away to join the 
 queen. 
 
 With the sunshine of her presence vanished, the chev- 
 alier had no desire to linger further at the Louvre. It 
 was very late, and he had a long journey back to Saint 
 Germain. Drawing his cloak over the white badge 
 upon his arm, and holding his hat pressed against his 
 side so as to conceal the cross, he traversed the throne 
 room, which was now thinning rapidly, as their maj- 
 esties of Navarre had already taken their departure. 
 As he neared the door, he suddenly became aware of a 
 group of courtiers gathered together only a pace or two 
 away. He raised his eyes and met the gaze of a dark, 
 sinister-looking man, a gaze of infinite hatred and ma- 
 lignancy. He recognized him at once; it was the man 
 with whom he had quarreled at Saint Germain, the 
 cousin and guardian of Gabrielle. 
 
 Involuntarily De Puycadere paused, but, as the vi- 
 comte made no movement, he contented himself with 
 a respectful salutation to the group, and passed out of 
 the door, down the staircase, and into the street. 
 
 The place in front of the Louvre was almost deserted 
 now, presenting a strong contrast to the scene Raoul 
 bad witnessed upon his arrival at the palace.
 
 THE EVE OF SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. 87 
 
 He hurried along, meeting every now and then little 
 knots of men, who eyed him curiously, but made no 
 offer to molest him. 
 
 He, on his part, paid no attention to them. His 
 thoughts were too busy with the exciting events of the 
 evening. A thousand birds were singing in his heai t 
 a melody sweeter far than living birds were ever knowr. 
 to sing, a melody of which the refrain was : Gabrielle ! 
 Gabrielle ! Gabrielle ! 
 
 Suddenly, as he turned swiftly the corner of a street, 
 he was roused from his pleasant revery by running 
 plump into a burly fellow, who with an oath clapped his 
 hand to the hilt of his sword. 
 
 But as the light from a swinging lantern struck full 
 upon Raoul's face, he thrust back his half -drawn blade 
 with an exclamation of surprise. 
 
 " What ! Master Raoul ! You ! You in Paris !" 
 
 Raoul was no less astounded to recognize the florid, 
 honest countenance of one who had been many years in 
 the service of his father. 
 
 "Mordiou! Is it you, Simon Beppa?" grasping both 
 the man's hands. "And how prospers it, old com- 
 rade?" 
 
 " Fairly well, Master Raoul, fairly well. I am land- 
 lord of the Green Dragon, close to the Pont Neuf." 
 
 "I'll give you a call, good Simon. I'll warrant you 
 scarcely expected to see me in Paris. " 
 
 Simon Beppa started, and gave a quick glance about 
 him. Then, seeing that no one was within earshot, he 
 answered, but with evident anxiety : 
 
 " No, nor desired to ; pardon me, Monsieur le Cheva- 
 lier, but what evil wind has blown you hither?" 
 
 "Evil wind!" echoed Raoul, gayly. "Evil wind! 
 Say rather the softest breeze that ever blew a voyager
 
 88 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 to a wished-for shore. I came borne upon the wings of 
 Hope, my faithful Simon." 
 
 " I would it had blown you anywhere else," retorted 
 his companion grimly. " Have a care, Master Raoul. 
 I fear " 
 
 " Peste, good Simon ! We Huguenots are no longer 
 in danger " 
 
 "Chut! chut!" interrupted Beppa in alarm, grasp- 
 ing the chevalier's cloak imploringly. " By blessed 
 Saint Martin ! Have a care, Master Raoul !" 
 
 " Mordiou! he swears by the saints," returned Raoul, 
 laughing. " My father's old Protestant steward ! What 
 new miracle is this!" 
 
 With every word, Beppa's agitation and alarm seemed 
 to increase. He took a fresh grip on the young man's 
 cloak, and said, almost in a whisper : 
 
 " I go with the times, Master Raoul, and these are 
 fearful ones. Take the advice of an old servant and 
 well-wisher to the name of Puycadere, and just take 
 horse again and put a ten good leagues between you 
 and this Papistical city of Paris!" 
 
 "Far from it! Here I remain! You know not, old 
 blockhead, that I am equerry to the King of Navarre." 
 
 Simon started back, releasing the cloak, and in so 
 doing exposing the white handkerchief bound about 
 De Puycadere's arm. 
 
 "Equerry to the King of Navarre!" he echoed. And 
 then, as he caught sight of the snowy badge, he gasped 
 aad his eyes nearly bulged out of his head in astonish- 
 ment. "What! You, a Protestant, wear this?" and 
 he touched the handkerchief. 
 
 "Why not?" retorted Raoul, a little angrily. "Of 
 course I am a Protestant" 
 
 " But this badge?"
 
 THE EVE OF SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. 89 
 
 *' That I wear in obedience to a promise given. " 
 
 " And you know not its meaning?" 
 
 Had the light from the lantern not been shining full 
 in Raoul's eyes and so dazzled his sight, he might have 
 noticed that Simon Beppa also wore a band of white 
 linen on his arm. 
 
 "Meaning, no! Explain yourself !" 
 
 "Oh! Master Raoul!" ejaculated Beppa, now beside 
 himself with terror, not on his own account, but on ac- 
 count of the son of hi old master, " I implore you come 
 with me and I will hide you in the Green Dragon, " 
 
 "Hide!" exclaimed the chevalier, now quite out of 
 patience with Beppa 's extraordinary behavior. " No, 
 not a step do I go, till this mystery is explained." 
 
 "And there is no time to be lost," groaned Simon, 
 wringing his hands. Then, as if taken with a desper- 
 ate resolution, he went on breathlessly: " Master Raoul, 
 it is death for a Huguenot to be in the streets this night. 
 In five minutes the bell of Saint Germain 1'Auxerrois 
 will give the signal for a general massacre." 
 
 In horrified incredulity, Raoul seized the other by 
 the arm. 
 
 "Impossible!" he gasped. 
 
 "'Tis true. Oh, believe me, before it is too late. 
 'Tis by the order of the king and the Duke of Guise 
 and the admiral is to be the first victim." 
 
 "Coligny!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But how do you know this?" 
 
 " As I told you, I go with the times. I I am a Cath- 
 olic now." 
 
 Raoul knew the former steward well, and, his first 
 amazement gone, he was convinced that he was speak- 
 ing the truth.
 
 pO A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 In an instant the chevalier's resolution was taken. 
 
 " Where does the admiral live?" 
 
 " In the Rue de Be*thisy, a large house, opening on a 
 court in front, flanked by two wings. " 
 
 "And the nearest way?" 
 
 " Through an alley-way, two streets down, and then 
 through the Rue des Fosses close to the church of Saint 
 Germain I'Auxerrois." 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 "Where are you going? Master Raoul, where are 
 you going?" cried Simon, attempting to stay the way. 
 
 But the impetuous Gascon, with little ceremony, 
 waved him aside. 
 
 " To warn the admiral !" he cried. " Pray God I be in 
 time!" 
 
 And before the worthy ex-servitor of his family could 
 make move to prevent him, he had vanished at full 
 speed around the corner.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE DEATH-KNELL. 
 
 OVERCOME with horror at the revelation which had 
 just been made to him, but still with but one thought 
 in his mind the salvation of the admiral, Raoul ran 
 at full speed until he reached the alley which was the 
 short cut to the Rue des Fosses. 
 
 Here he was brought to a stop by a man apparently 
 a sentinel, who lowered his arquebuse and barred the 
 way. 
 
 " The watchword, comrade!" 
 
 " Guise," cried De Puycadere, imagining that on such 
 a night this would be the most natural password. And 
 his instinct proved true. For after a scrutiny which 
 showed the white badges the sentinel lowered his 
 weapon with a brief: 
 
 " Pass, comrade! Death to the Huguenots!" 
 
 And Raoul, too breathless to reply, sped down the 
 dark alley. 
 
 Stumbling over the rough pavement, he finally 
 emerged into the better lighted Rue des Fosses. 
 
 Scarcely had he passed the corner, when the sharp 
 crack of a pistol saluted his ears, responded to almost 
 on the moment by one deep note boomed forth from the 
 tower of the neighboring church. 
 
 The signal ! 
 
 Was there yet time, or would he be too late? 
 
 As if by magic, the street was filled with a surging
 
 9* A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCOHY. 
 
 mass. Prom the neighboring houses, the savage sol- 
 diers of the Italian and Swiss guards, who had been 
 well primed with strong drink, leaped forth, and in a 
 moment the air rang with the clank of arms and the 
 cry: 
 
 " Kill ! Kill ! Death to the Huguenots !" 
 
 Every man was armed, some with drawn swords, 
 others with arquebuses, and some in the left hand held 
 torches which threw a fitful glare over the scene. 
 
 Hemmed in as he was on all sides, Raoul determined 
 to sell his life dearly. At the first sound of the bell, 
 he had drawn his sword, but there seemed to be no 
 opportunity to use it. No one seemed disposed to 
 molest him, although more than one scrutinized him 
 closely, but a glance at the double cross in his hat ap- 
 parently banished all suspicion. 
 
 "Kill! Kill! Death to the Huguenots! The king 
 has signed the warrant of their doom !" rang out from 
 hundreds of throats, parched with the thirst of blood. 
 
 "Vive la Messe! Vive le Due de Guise! Mort aux 
 Huguenots!" 
 
 And now ensued a horrible scene. The houses of the 
 Huguenots, previously marked with a white cross, were 
 broken open, and the inmates dragged out to be butch- 
 ered in cold blood. 
 
 Amid the din of yelling soldiers, the groans of the 
 dying, the shrieks of despairing women and the 
 affrighted screams of children, rose the sound of bells 
 from almost every belfry in Paris. 
 
 Stunned, horrified, Raoul was borne along by the 
 yelling masses, realizing his powerlessness, but deter- 
 mined to snatch at any chance that might enable him 
 to reach the admiral first, warn him, and aid him to 
 escape.
 
 THE DEATH-KNELL. 93 
 
 Suddenly there were loud cries ahead of: 
 
 "Guise! Guise!" 
 
 The crowd parted right and left, and through the 
 broken ranks appeared a young man, riding upon a 
 powerful black horse and waving a sword above his 
 head. It was the popular idol, Henri of Lorraine, 
 Duke of Guise, the instigator of the foul work. 
 
 As if to increase the niob's frenzy, he cried at the 
 top of his voice : 
 
 "Kill! Kill! The doctors say blood letting in 
 August is as good as in May! To the admiral's! To 
 the admiral's!" 
 
 "To the admiral's! Guise! Guise!" screamed the 
 nearest of the mob, and the cry was taken up and re- 
 echoed far down the street. 
 
 In the press that greeted the advent of the duke, De 
 Puycadere was forced close to the wall. Not a yard 
 away was a dark passage, between two lofty houses. 
 This passage led in the direction of the Rue de Be"thisy, 
 and as Raoul realized this, he at once formed a plan 
 of action. 
 
 Pushing and crowding his way and paying but scant 
 attention to the oaths and angry looks that greeted his 
 progress, he succeeded in reaching the entrance. Then, 
 watching his opportunity, he darted down the passage 
 and dashed wildly away with no other guide than in- 
 stinct. It was hard work, for the passage was ill paved, 
 and more than once he narrowly escaped being thrown 
 headlong to the ground. 
 
 A dim light ahead showed what must be the Rue de 
 Be"thisy, and he redoubled his speed. Was he in time? 
 Yes, the street was quiet. The mob had not reached 
 the admiral's. 
 
 Turning the corner, he sped along the Rue de B6-
 
 94 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 thisy and had almost reached the house of the admiral, 
 when his headlong career was rudely checked by the 
 appearance directly in his path of a soldier in the uni- 
 form of the Swiss guard, who stepped out from the 
 shadow of a portico. 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 Too excited to remember watchword or excuse, the 
 chevalier without a moment's hesitation attacked his 
 challenger. The fight was brief, for although Raoul 
 received a slight cut across the forehead, he was too 
 good a swordsman for his antagonist, and, in shorter 
 time than it takes to tell it he had run the latter through 
 the body. 
 
 The Swiss uttered a loud shriek and fell prone upon 
 the pavement. 
 
 Thrusting the body aside with his foot, Raoul ran 
 madly on. 
 
 During the delay, the mob had entered the street. 
 The red glare of the torches made a path as if of blood 
 before him, and the footsteps and yells of the pursuing 
 crowd, which could not be more than three hundred 
 yards away, gave him wings. The blood from his 
 wound was trickling down his face and half blinding 
 him. His gasping breath came in a hoarse rattle from 
 his chest. At last! The entrance of the admiral's 
 house was before him. In desperation he flung himself 
 against the door and beat with both hands upon the 
 panels. 
 
 "Open!" he screamed hoarsely. "Open, in the 
 king's name !" 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the frenzied rabble. Would 
 the door never be opened? Then, just as he was yield- 
 ing to despair, the clank of chains and the rattle of 
 bolts fell upon his ear and the heavy portals swung
 
 THE DEATH-KNELL. 95 
 
 slowly open. Darting in, Raoul unceremoniously 
 pushed aside the pale and trembling porter, and 
 slammed the doors to. To make all fast was the work 
 of a moment, but it was accomplished none too soon, 
 for scarcely was the last bolt rushed into its socket, than 
 the oak resounded with the first onslaught of the would- 
 be assassins. 
 
 The chevalier dashed the blood from out of his eyes, 
 and seizing the porter by the arm, he commanded him 
 to lead the way to the admiral. 
 
 The shaking wretch obeyed, wringing his hands and 
 groaning : 
 
 " Oh ! my poor master, he has been wounded for the 
 cause of France and now he is to-be slain by his own 
 countrymen!" 
 
 Hurrying his guide with fierce words and even with 
 pricks of his sword, the chevalier, mad with impatience, 
 traversed corridor after corridor, finally to find himself 
 in a medium-sized apartment, in which were gathered 
 together some dozen persons. 
 
 From the little group advanced a stately, dignified 
 old man, with a long white beard flowing over his 
 breast. 
 
 " Monsieur, may I ask the reason of this intrusion?" 
 he inquired calmly. 
 
 "The admiral?" gasped Raoul, still breathless from 
 his recent exertions. 
 
 "Yes, lamColigny." 
 
 " Away, monsieur, away, or it will be too late. Even 
 now the hell-hounds are on your track, seeking your life. " 
 
 As De Puycadere spoke, there was a distant, resound' 
 ing crash, which told that the entrance had been beaten 
 down. And then came the sound of hurrying footstep* 
 and angry voices.
 
 $6 A GENTLEMAN .FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The admiral knew what it meant, as well he might, 
 for his servants were being butchered, and their shrieks 
 rang through the house. 
 
 "Fly," he said quietly, turning to the attendants 
 who remained near him. " You cannot save me, and it 
 will be vain to fling away your lives in the cause of a 
 nan who stands on the threshold of the grave." There 
 was a moment of hesitation, and then, as the sounds of 
 the savage clamor grew nearer, all save one turned and 
 ran like frightened sheep, seeking to make their escape 
 by the roof. 
 
 "The cowards!" cried Raoul in a fury, and he would 
 have sought to stay their flight had not tlie admiral 
 himself commanded him to desist. 
 
 The one who remained was a tall, pale man, dressed 
 in a physician's gown of sombre black. 
 
 "Fly, my good Ambrose, fly," urged Coligny. 
 
 "Never," retorted Pare, for it was the king's phy- 
 sician who was in attendance on the admiral and had 
 happened to remain in the house that night. " Never! 
 If I cannot save you, at least I can die with you !" 
 
 The thunder of approaching footsteps was in the cor- 
 ridor, and before another word could be spoken the 
 curtains which covered the doorway were thrust violently 
 aside, and into the room rushed a crowd of men in 
 glittering cuirasses, shrieking like demons and waving 
 their blood-stained weapons. 
 
 With drawn sword, Raoul sprang in front of the 
 admiral !
 
 THE ASSASSINATION OF COLIGNY. 
 
 "WHO are you?" asked a rough-looking fellow witk 
 a German, accent, stepping up to Raoul, as the rabble in 
 seemingly countless numbers poured into the room. 
 "We seek Admiral Coligny!" 
 
 The chevalier's eyes flashed fire. Holding himself 
 on the defensive, he answered in a clear, ringing voice: 
 
 "You can reach him only over my dead body." 
 
 "Oh, say you so!" retorted the other, whose name 
 was Behm, and who was a villain of the first order. 
 "We will soon settle that, my master!" And he made 
 a movement to rush upon the dauntless Gascon. 
 
 But before a blow could be struck on either side, 
 Raoul, whose whole attention had been concentrated 
 upon the German, felt his wrist seized from behind in 
 an iron grasp, and a sudden twist sent his sword flying 
 into a corner of the room. Then, before he could re- 
 cover himself, stout hands seized him on either side, 
 and his arms were as effectively pinioned as if they had 
 been bound. 
 
 " I will deal with him. Master Behm," exclaimed one 
 of his captors. " I know him. He has been drinking 
 and is not himself. Look at his badges. He is as good 
 a Catholic as yourself. " 
 
 "Very well," growled the German. "We'll take the 
 big fish and let the small fry go. One salmon is worth 
 more than a thousand frogs!" 
 I
 
 gg A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 In spite of his resistance, Raoul was dragged away 
 from in front of the admiral. But as he still continued 
 to struggle, one of the men proceeded calmly to trip 
 him up, and then sat down on his arms while the other 
 planted himself on his feet. 
 
 " It's no use, Master Raoul, you can do nothing. It 
 was the only way to save your life," whispered a voice 
 in his ear, which he recognized as that of Simon Beppa, 
 and though inwardly raging at his helplessness, he was 
 forced to submit. 
 
 Neither Coligny nor Ambrose Pare was armed, but 
 neither flinched before the bloodthirsty assassins. 
 
 "Which of you is the admiral?" demanded Behm, 
 with a coarse oath. 
 
 But before a reply could be made, a voice of com- 
 mand rang out from the corridor : 
 
 " Don't touch the man in black, on your lives! It is 
 the king's physician, and his life is sacred!" 
 
 Behm made a sign to his followers, and Ambrose 
 Pare, who was possessed of but little physical strength, 
 was seized and removed from the side of his doomed 
 friend. 
 
 "So, you are Coligny!" ejaculated the German, his 
 eyes aflame with the lust of murder. 
 
 The venerable admiral, who had won so many vic- 
 tories for his country and his king, drew his stately 
 figure up to its full height. 
 
 " I am he," he replied, calmly. " But beware, young 
 sir, before you stain your hands with my blood. I am 
 a wounded and helpless man! But why should I waste 
 breath? If I am to die, my last thoughts should be of 
 Him who gave me life. " 
 
 Scarcely had the last word been uttered when Behm 
 plunged into his stomach a huge, pointed boar-spear,
 
 THE ASSASSINATION OF COLIGNY. 99 
 
 which he had in his hand, and then struck him on the 
 head with it. 
 
 Raoul uttered a cry of impotent rage, and struggled 
 without avail to free himself. 
 
 Coligny fell, murmuring : 
 
 " If it were but a man! But 'tis a horse-boy!" 
 
 Others of the miscreants then advanced and struck 
 him in their turn. 
 
 "Hola, Behm," cried a voice from without, and, 
 pushing through the crowd, appeared a young man, 
 clothed in the richest of velvet, with a jewelled collar 
 about his neck and falling low over his breast. 
 
 " 'Tis done, Monseigneur," replied the German, 
 with the greatest sang-froid, pointing to the body pros- 
 trate at his feet. 
 
 "Mafoi, 'tis indeed the admiral!" ejaculated Guise, 
 approaching, and viewing the helpless figure with 
 silent ecstasy. 
 
 "Ah!" he continued, planting his foot upon the 
 breast of the Protestant hero. "At last, Coligny! 
 Murderer of my father, thus do I avenge him !" 
 
 But so tenacious of life was the unhappy man, that, 
 though stabbed and hacked in a dozen places, he opened 
 his eyes, clinched his mutilated hand, and, in a hollow 
 voice, with his fast-glazing eyes fixed upon the duke, 
 panted forth : " Henri de Guise, I did not kill your 
 father. One day the foot of the assassin shall be planted 
 upon your breast! My curse upon you!" 
 
 Pale as death, the duke started back, and an invol- 
 untary shudder passed over him. It seemed to him 
 that the veil of the future had suddenly been rent in 
 twain. 
 
 But not so with Behm. No qualms assaulted his 
 guiH-Ijardened conscience.
 
 100 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCON Y. 
 
 " Peste!" he cried. " The old fox has nine lives like 
 a cat!" 
 
 And, drawing his dagger, he stabbed the helpless ad- 
 miral again and again. 
 
 With one long-drawn sigh, the soul of the splendid 
 old man passed to its Maker. 
 
 Shuddering, the Duke of Guise passed his hand over 
 his face, which was contorted as that of one in mortal 
 agony. 
 
 " 'Tis a good beginning," he said in a hollow voice, 
 and, nerving himself to the effort, he spurned the body 
 with his foot. " Forward ! Death to the Huguenots as 
 the king commands!" 
 
 "And Master Pare, Monseigneur?" asked Behm. 
 
 " Release him. The king has exacted that his life 
 shall be spared." 
 
 The physician advanced, and, kneeling by the side of 
 the dead admiral, took his head in his lap. 
 
 Guise gave him one contemptuous glance, and, tam- 
 ing, strode rapidly from the room, followed by Behm 
 and many of the others. 
 
 "You are free, Master Raoul," said Simon Beppa, 
 releasing his captive, who rose to his feet and groaned 
 in anguish as he saw that the bloody work had been 
 consummated. 
 
 " Forgive my violence," continued Beppa, " but other- 
 wise you would have shared his fate. And now I be- 
 seech you to come with me. Single-handed, you can 
 do nothing, and the Green Dragon will offer you a safe 
 asylum. " 
 
 Reluctantly, the chevalier was forced to concede that 
 the innkeeper was right and was about to assent to his 
 proposition, when suddenly a man darted from the 
 mass that were pushing their way through the rather
 
 THE ASSASSINATION OF COLIGNY. IOI 
 
 narrow exit, and, flourishing his sword, made straight 
 toward them, his dark face illumined with a fiendish 
 delight at the discovery. 
 
 " 'Tis the Vicomte de Vrissac!" muttered Beppa in 
 dismay, and the Chevalier recognized him at the same 
 instant. 
 
 The other members of the murdering band had by 
 this time left the room, the heavy door clanging behind 
 them. 
 
 " Hold, monsieur, " cried Beppa, advancing a step or 
 two, and, by so doing, placing himself between the 
 vicomte and his intended victim. " You are mistaken. 
 This is no Huguenot. See his badge. " 
 
 " A pest upon his badge ! Did he wear twenty crosses 
 I know him for a Huguenot of the Huguenots. Was he 
 not this very night made equerry to the so-styled King 
 of Navarre. Out of my way, blockhead!" 
 
 " But " 
 
 "You are right, Monsieur le Vicomte," interrupted 
 Raoul, thrusting Simon aside. " I am the Chevalier 
 de Puycadere and a Huguenot. I am pleased to en- 
 counter you again and to have this opportunity to renew 
 the quarrel interrupted at Saint Germain. " 
 
 "I do not fight with heretics, " retorted the other 
 furiously ; " I slay them as I would a mad dog. " 
 
 And without further words, he made a rush upon the 
 young Gascon. 
 
 To avoid the onslaught, Raoul retreated a step or 
 two, and as he did so his foot struck against some 
 object on the floor his own sword, which had fallen 
 there when hurled away by Beppa. 
 
 With a rugissement of joy he stooped and snatched it 
 up. Not a moment too soon! for the vicomte was 
 already upon him. Indeed the former's sharp blade
 
 10* A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 pierced the sleeve of the chevalier's doublet, tearing 
 away, as it was withdrawn, Gabrielle's handkerchief. 
 
 "Coward!" roared Raoul, striking his assailant on 
 the face with the flat of his weapon for want of room to 
 thrust at him with the point. 
 
 With a furious ejaculation and white with anger, De 
 Vrissac retreated a step, and then steel clashed against 
 steel. The vicomte was a swordsman of the first order, 
 and Raoul soon recognized that he had met his equal. 
 Exhausted as he was by excitement and the loss of 
 blood resulting from the wound he had received from 
 the Swiss soldier, it taxed all his skill to parry the 
 thrusts of his adversary without thinking of taking the 
 offensive himself. 
 
 He found himself being forced gradually backward 
 until finally his back Was against the wall. 
 
 Encouraged by his success, the vicomte pursued the 
 attack still more vigorously. 
 
 The result was still in doubt, however, when a most 
 extraordinary thing happened. 
 
 The wall behind Raoul suddenly gave way, and the 
 room, the lights, his antagonist all vanished from his 
 vision. 
 
 He had fallen violently backward into a region of 
 utter darkness.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE KING'S PHYSICIAN. 
 
 MYSTERIOUS as seemed Raoul's sudden disappearance, 
 the explanation was very simple. 
 
 Pressed closely as he was against the wall, his body 
 had touched the secret spring of a sliding panel, which 
 had glided back into place after the involuntary transit 
 of the chevalier. 
 
 The Gascon's predicament was anything but pleasant. 
 As soon as he had recovered from the shock, he set him- 
 self to work to discover into what sort of a place he had 
 been precipitated. He was in inklike darkness, but by 
 groping along the walls, which were built of stone, he 
 judged that he was in an apartment some fifteen feet 
 square. Save the way by which he had entered, outlet 
 there was apparently none whatever, and try as he 
 would he could not discover the spring of the panel. 
 
 The place in aH likelihood had been arranged by some 
 former owner of the house as a hiding-place in time of 
 danger, and it is quite improbable, in view of recent 
 events, that either the admiral or any of his attendants 
 was aware of its existence. 
 
 Worn out and discouraged, Raoul finally threw him- 
 self down on the hard floor and soon fell into the 
 dreamless sleep of exhaustion. 
 
 It was long after daybreak when he awoke. 
 
 As soon as he recovered his senses and realized where
 
 104 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 he was, he arose to a sitting posture and endeavored 
 to pierce the gloom about him. 
 
 It seemed to him that the darkness was not so intense 
 as it had been. And sure enough, as he raised his eyes, 
 far above his head glimmered two round spots of light, 
 undoubtedly openings into the outer air. 
 
 He leaped to his feet and felt his way to the wall. 
 Built as it was of solid masonry, how could he hope to 
 climb up? 
 
 Drawing a dagger he wore in his belt, and which 
 had been lent to him by Madame Goujon as a portion of 
 his attire, he inserted the point between two stones 
 about two feet from the ground and had soon dug out 
 sufficient of the mortar to leave a resting-place for his 
 feet. 
 
 Clinging to the joining in the stonework, he mounted 
 upon the tiny platform he had made, and proceeded to 
 dig out a similar one a little farther up. 
 
 His progress was slow and painful, but he finally 
 managed to reach the two loopholes, near the roof. 
 These he found to be the entrances to a dilapidated 
 dovecot As he peered in, two pigeons, startled at the 
 intrusion, flew out with a great whirr of wings. 
 
 Through the holes, he could see nothing but the sky 
 and a distant view of roofs. There was no hope here, 
 for even if he should succeed in enlarging the openings 
 sufficiently to admit of the passage of his body, he would 
 be perched in mid-air, with no possibility of reaching 
 the ground. 
 
 He obtained one meagre advantage, however, by his 
 climb. The dovecote contained ten eggs, which he took 
 possession of and carefully stowed away in his pockets. 
 These at least would ward off starvation for a little 
 time.
 
 THE KING S PHYSICIAN. 105 
 
 Descending to the ground, he instituted another fruit- 
 less search for the spring. He had but one hope now, 
 and that was that Beppa would return and find some 
 means to release him. 
 
 Slowly the hours dragged out their weary length. 
 That day passed and the second was near its close, when 
 Raoul was startled from his gloomy reflections by a 
 slight scratching sound just opposite where he was sit- 
 ting, and in another moment the panel slid aside, letting 
 in a flood of light which almost blinded him. 
 
 With a cry he leaped to his feet and rushed toward 
 the opening. 
 
 Beppa had come at last! 
 
 But it was not Beppa who assisted him out of his 
 prison. 
 
 It was the tall, intellectual-looking man he had seen 
 with the admiral Saint Bartholomew's eve. 
 
 "Steadily! steadily! my young friend," said the 
 physician as Raoul staggered into the room, faint from 
 his enforced starvation. " Not a word! Eat first!" 
 
 And, taking him by the arm, he led him to a table 
 on which were a cold fowl, bread, and a bottle of strong 
 wine. 
 
 Not until he had devoured a portion of the fowl and 
 drank a goodly half of the wine would his rescuer allow 
 him to speak. 
 
 Then he related to the young man what had happened 
 after his sudden disappearance. 
 
 The vicomte, Beppa, and Ambrose Pare himself had 
 all tried to remove the panel, but were finally forced to 
 give it up in despair. 
 
 Escorted by Beppa and his friend, the king's phy- 
 sician, after several narrow escapes, had succeeded in 
 reaching the Louvre.
 
 106 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 But not until to-day had it been safe for him to re- 
 turn and endeavor to free Raoul from his confinement, 
 which he had finally succeeded in accomplishing. 
 
 "And the King of Navarre?" asked Raoul with 
 anxiety. 
 
 "The king is safe." 
 
 " Does the massacre still continue?" 
 
 Ambrose Pare shuddered. 
 
 "No, but thousands have been slaughtered. This 
 morning King Charles issued a proclamation making 
 it unlawful to rob and kill. And the order is generally 
 obeyed, although the animosities and fury of the popu- 
 lace are still greatly inflamed." 
 
 "Surely the vile work was not at the king's com- 
 mand?" The physician's only reply was a shrug of the 
 shoulders, and the question was pressed no further. 
 
 Suddenly Raoul started to his feet. 
 
 "Mordiou!" he exclaimed, vehemently. "I was to 
 report to the King of Navarre yesterday. I must to the 
 Louvre at once. '' 
 
 "Gently! gently, young sir," said Master Pare with 
 a smile. " Henri understands. You are not to go to 
 the Louvre. I bear you the king's commands." 
 
 "Quick, that I may obey." 
 
 " You are to go to the Green Dragon, where you are 
 to remain under cover for three days, when the roads 
 mayhap will be safer to travel. I have arranged all 
 with Master Beppa. In three days, you are to proceed 
 to La Rochelle and deliver this packet with your own 
 hands to the governor. A horse will be provided for 
 you and sent to the stables of the Green Dragon. And 
 here are the first emoluments of your new position as 
 equerry to Henri of Navarre. " 
 
 As he spoke, he placed in the chevalier's hand a
 
 THE KING'S PHYSICIAN. 107 
 
 medium-sized package sealed with the royal arms amd a 
 purse heavy with gold pieces. 
 
 "And now," continued the physician, "cover your 
 self with this mantle," and he pointed to a cloak which 
 was thrown over the back of a chair, " and repair forth- 
 with to the Green Dragon. Beppa expects you." 
 
 " And you?" 
 
 " I shall remain here for a short time, and then return 
 to the Louvre. It is not well that we should be seen 
 in public together." 
 
 Raoul held out his hand, which was taken in a warm 
 grasp by the physician, who, although he had seen him 
 but twice, had conceived a strong affection for the brave 
 and impetuous young Gascon. 
 
 " My friend, " he said, moved by a sudden impulse, 
 " would you take a word of advice from a man thrice 
 your age in years and experience?" 
 
 "Speak! Believe me, I am honored, but first let 
 me know to whom I owe these good offices. " 
 
 The old man laughed. 
 
 " True ! I had forgotten. I am Ambrose Pare, phy- 
 sician to their majesties of France." 
 
 The name was one most familiar to the chevalier, 
 who had often heard it on his father's lips, and he knew 
 that he was in the presence of one whom, even in that 
 profligate age, all delighted to honor for his virtues. 
 He was the physician of the poor as well as of the rich, 
 the adviser of the high and the comforter of the lowly. 
 
 " There is a good old adage, " continued Master Pare, 
 " and even with the scant knowledge I have of you, I 
 think I may say that there is no one I know to whom it 
 will be of more advantage than yourself: 'Look before 
 you leap!' You are young, intelligent, brave, but and 
 in the but is all my warning you don't stop to think.
 
 loS A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 You rush heedlessly in at portals which a moment's 
 reflection would cause you to pass by." 
 
 The chevalier flushed. He knew in his heart that 
 the old man had read him correctly, but he had too lit- 
 tle self-conceit that stumbling-block in many a good 
 man's path to be offended, and he received the advice 
 in the spirit in which it was offered. 
 
 Bidding the fine old man farewell, he repaired to the 
 Green Dragon, which he had no difficulty in finding on 
 the left-hand side of the Pont Neuf. 
 
 The city was comparatively quiet, but he saw on 
 every side signs of the last two terrible days in the 
 blood-stained pavements and the partially demolished 
 houses which had belonged to those of the Huguenot 
 persuasion. Almost every one he met wore white 
 crosses in his cap or hat, making, as an historian of 
 the times, in commenting upon the fact, remarked with 
 unconscious sarcasm, " a most pretty effect. " 
 
 As has been said, the handkerchief had been torn 
 from Raoul's arm in his fight with the vicomte, and 
 the cross in his hat together with its clasp had also dis- 
 appeared. In spite of his promise to Gabrielle, this 
 was not a cause of unmixed regret to him, as the fiery 
 young Huguenot had no desire to sail under false colors. 
 The absence of the emblems caused many an angry 
 glance to be cast at him, but no actual violence was 
 offered. 
 
 Once, however, he came near being involved in an 
 altercation, which might have cost him dear, had he 
 not remembered the physician's words of advice just in 
 time to check himself. 
 
 As he was making his way through the Rue de 1'Arbre 
 Sec, his attention was attracted to the conversation of 
 two young men walking just behind him.
 
 THE KING'S PHYSICIAN. IO$ 
 
 "It is true," said one. "Henri de Bourbon haa 
 recanted. " 
 
 "Impossible!" 
 
 " Peste ! Why not? The king offered him his choice : 
 Death, mass, or the Bastile, and he chose the easiest 
 mass." 
 
 The chevalier's first impulse was to turn and give 
 the young man the lie in his teeth, but fortunately 
 " Look before you leap" flashed across his mind and he 
 refrained in time. For any one openly championing 
 the cause of the King of Navarre, with the temper of 
 the populace such as it was,, would undoubtedly have 
 been slain, in spite of the king's edict. 
 
 Not for one moment did Raoul believe the young 
 man's statement was true. And yet in this case his 
 confidence was misplaced, as he was destined to know 
 beyond a doubt at no distant date. The King of Na- 
 rarre had recanted. It is no place here to question this 
 act of him who was destined to be one of the greatest 
 kings France has ever known. It was all a question 
 Df policy, and, looked at in that light, perhaps justified. 
 At all events the recantation was afterward publicly 
 disavowed, and Henri de Bourbon lived and died in the 
 faith in which he was reared by his martyr mother. 
 
 Raoul received a warm welcome from Beppa on his 
 arrival at the Green Dragon, and was installed in the 
 innkeeper's own private room, which led off of the 
 chief apartment of the inn, corresponding to what is 
 known in modern times as the cafe*. 
 
 The horse had arrived, and the chevalier at once 
 proceeded to make acquaintance with it. It was a 
 magnificent animal of pure Castilian breed. Raoul 
 stroked its glossy neck, and the animal, with a low 
 whinny, laid its velvet muzzle against his cheek. At
 
 110 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 once a friendship was established between the two, one 
 of those friendships possible only between man and 
 beast in which there is no jealousy, in which no mis- 
 understanding can arise, and which survives undimin- 
 ished through evil report and good report alike. 
 
 One of Raoul's first cares was to send to good 
 Madame Goujon a sum which more than repaid her for 
 her kindness, together with a message which pretty 
 Rose valued more than the gold pieces themselves. 
 With a portion of the money left he purchased through 
 Beppa a suitable riding-suit and a brace of pistols. 
 
 These matters attended to, there was nothing for our 
 young equerry to do save to possess his soul in patience, 
 as best he might, in the haven appointed, until had 
 elapsed the three days exacted by the King of Navarre, 
 before he was to start on his mission to La Rochelle.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE GREEN DRAGON. 
 
 THE Green Dragon was doing a thriving business the 
 night after the chevalier's arrival, and Simon Beppa, 
 congratulating his honest soul upon the fact, was here, 
 there, and everywhere with his two assistants. 
 
 And in truth the chief room of the inn was a pleasant 
 place to lounge in, outside of the good cheer to be ob- 
 tained there. 
 
 It was very spacious, occupying the whole centre of 
 the house. At one end was a monumental fireplace, 
 with broad, comfortable wooden settles on either side, 
 and opposite the entrance, which led directly to the 
 street, was a staircase with heavy open balustrades, 
 leading to a sort of wooden balcony or platform jutting 
 out over the Seine. 
 
 Through the window could be seen a portion of the 
 Pont Neuf, then in an incomplete state, and the slow- 
 moving waters of the river. 
 
 On the evening in question, a group of Bohemians, 
 three in number, two girls and a man, were attempting 
 to amuse the guests. They were our old friends of the 
 Gelosi troupe, who brought the chevalier in their van 
 to Saint Germain. 
 
 Pharos, the male member of the trio, sat upon the 
 ground strumming a guitar, while the girls, Mirza and 
 Pippa, sang and danced graceful Spanish dances. 
 
 At a table near by were seated three or four soldiers,
 
 lit A GENTLEMAN FROM GA9CONT. 
 
 prominent among them, by his swaggering manner and 
 boastful language, being Annibal Goujon, sergeant 
 of the king's guard and husband of pretty Rose. 
 
 The worthy sergeant had evidently been indulging in 
 quite as much wine as was good for him, for his always 
 rjorid complexion was now of a bright scarlet and his 
 speech was thick and guttural. 
 
 Ever and anon he cast an angry glance at the Tzigani, 
 whose music distracted the attention of his comrades 
 from his own remarks, and Annibal, in his overween- 
 ing vanity, always desired to be the chief figure in 
 every scene at which he was present. 
 
 Finally, annoyed beyond all endurance, he rose un- 
 steadily from his seat, and, bringing his huge fist down 
 upon the table with a violence that set the bottles and 
 glasses to dancing, he bellowed out : 
 
 " Silence, you gypsy mummers ! Your caterwauling 
 turns the wine sour! A song to please Annibal Goujon 
 must have the clank of steel in it!" 
 
 And to punctuate his remarks he gave his sword-hilt 
 a resounding slap. 
 
 The music of the guitar ceased, and the girls paused 
 in dismay. 
 
 " By the corns of Saint Ursula, see that we have no 
 more of it! If you want a song, I'll give you a beauty. 
 And," with a glare about him, " who fails to join in the 
 chorus, I'll slit his nose with my dagger!" And, with- 
 out further ado, he struck a swashbuckler attitude, and 
 began to roar out in a voice which, if nothing else, had 
 plenty of lung power : 
 
 "Here's a health to the Duke of Guise 
 
 Whose name makes all heretics pale ; 
 Whose sword beats the chaff from the corn. 
 So we've dubbed it the Catholic flail."
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE GREEK DRAGON. 
 
 With a tremendous crashing together of glasses, bis 
 fdlow-aoldiers joined in the chorus: 
 
 "With a clink and a clank, 
 With a clink and a clank, 
 Here's more strength to the Catholic flail !" 
 
 " Let the health go round!" hiccoughed Goujon with 
 a drunken flourish. 
 
 "The bottle is empty," replied one of the soldiers, 
 reversing the flask at his elbow to prove the truth of 
 his words. 
 
 ** Empty ! With such a toast, there shall be no stint 
 Landlord ! Landlord !" 
 
 "Here, sergeant," replied Simon Beppa, hurrying 
 up, and looking the typical aubcrgiste in his twisted apron 
 and b<mnet de coton. 
 
 " Wine!" commanded Goujon, with a grand air. 
 
 " And the money, Sergeant?" 
 
 " Money? Money! He demands money to drink the 
 health of the Duke of Guise. Hie! He's a Huguenot 
 a heretic hie a " 
 
 "I! nothing of the kind!" exclaimed Simon, alarmed 
 and anxious to avoid all disturbance, especially over so 
 dangerous a subject. "Here, Antoine! Pierre! wine 
 for the gentlemen!" 
 
 " May it choke them !" he thought resentfully to him- 
 self, as he moved away to see the order obeyed. 
 
 The wine was brought and, the anger of the sergeant 
 considerably mollified thereby, a long life to the 
 Duke of Guise was drunk with a vast amount of en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 In the midst of the revelry, a door, quite close to the 
 table where the soldiers were seated, was opened quietly 
 and a figure wrapped in a long cloak and with a slouck 
 6
 
 114 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 hat drawn low down over the brow entered the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 After twenty-four hours' confinement, the patience of 
 the Chevalier de Puycadere had become exhausted, and 
 he had determined to venture forth and seek if possible 
 some news of Gabrielle before his departure for La 
 Rochelle. 
 
 As one of the soldiers, an Italian named Griffo, caught 
 sight of him, he nudged the sergeant and whispered 
 something in his ear. The latter rose unsteadily and 
 with a full beaker of wine in his hand addressed the 
 new-comer, before Simon Beppa, who scented danger 
 at the unlooked-for appearance of the young Huguenot, 
 could intervene. 
 
 " Come, my master, " spluttered the sergeant. " Drink 
 our toast in a bumper of good liquor. Here's to the 
 Catholic flail." 
 
 " And a speedy downfall to Harry of Navarre," added 
 Griffo. 
 
 The glass was held unsteadily and inconveniently 
 near Raoul's nose. 
 
 Pretending to slip in a pool of liquor which had been 
 spilled upon the floor, the Gascon struck the glass with 
 his elbow and the sergeant's face was deluged with the 
 contents. 
 
 " Hundred thousand devils!" cried Annibal in a fury 
 and half drawing his sword. " By hilt and point, but 
 blood shall flow for this!" 
 
 "Nonsense, sergeant!" said Raoul, with a good- 
 humored laugh, and, placing his hand on the other's 
 arm to prevent him carrying out his intention. " Wine 
 is quicker drawn than blood, and, if spilt, more easily 
 wiped away. Landlord, bring six bottles of your best, 
 and I will pay the reckoning. "
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE GREEN DRAGON. IIJ 
 
 Beppa, in order to avoid all altercation, was only to 
 glad to obey. 
 
 "Come, sergeant," added Raoul, still laughing, 
 "let there be no ill-will between us. The wine is 
 good." 
 
 " But the toast?" asked Goujon, somewhat appeased, 
 though still sulky. 
 
 Raoul piled his arms full of the bottles which Beppa 
 had brought. 
 
 "The score is paid," he said. "Fill! fill! And let 
 what toast you please go round. " 
 
 Still grumbling, Goujon with his load of bottles re- 
 turned to his companions ; and Beppa, catching Raoul 
 by the arm, drew him a little one side. 
 
 " This is madness, Master Raoul, " he whispered hur- 
 riedly. " Why do you " 
 
 "Bah, old bear!" interrupted Raoul, gayly. "Did 
 you think I could remain immured in that dull room 
 any longer?" 
 
 But before the good landlord could reply the door 
 leading to the street was thrown open, and a party of 
 three or four gentlemen entered the room. They were 
 all young, dressed with the utmost magnificence, and 
 attended by a retinue of pages attired in the liveries of 
 noble houses. 
 
 Beppa gave them one quick, frightened look and 
 drew Raoul away with but little ceremony. 
 
 "Draw your hat down on your brows, Master 
 Raoul," he implored, "and put your cloak well about 
 you, for these are wild gallants of the court, who are 
 as full of insolence as, in general, they are full of 
 wine. " 
 
 Meanwhile the young nobles had advanced well into 
 the apartment, preceded by their pages, who drove th
 
 Il6 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 other occupants from their benches and tables with 
 buffets and strokes of their riding-whips. 
 
 "Here, Simon! Simon Beppa!" cried one handsome 
 young fellow, who seemed to be the leader of the party. 
 " Sweep your place clear of this canaille ! Throw them 
 outside the door. " 
 
 " Or into the river, " interposed another. 
 
 " Or anywhere so that they remove themselves from 
 our vicinity." And the Duke de Bassompierre, for the 
 speaker was that dissolute young nobleman, caught up 
 an essence bottle of gold which was suspended by a 
 jewelled chain from his belt, and inhaled it as if the 
 atmosphere were poison to him. 
 
 "Ma foi, Lemours," he continued, addressing one of 
 his friends. " This place is tainted with the odor of 
 rascality. And no wonder, for I think I see that scoun- 
 drel Goujon yonder. " 
 
 The chevalier was leaning nonchalantly against the 
 fireplace, half-hidden in its shadow. Since the duke's 
 first words he had been puzzling his brains to remem- 
 ber where he had heard that voice before ; and now it 
 all flashed across him. This haughty young fellow was 
 the one he had heard talking to the Vicomte de Vrissac 
 at Saint Germain, when he himself lay hidden in the 
 gypsies' van. 
 
 As Sergeant Goujon heard his name pronounced by 
 the duke, coupled though it was with anything but a 
 complimentary epithet, he staggered forward, hat in 
 hand, bowing most obsequiously. 
 
 "At your grace's service," he began, but was cut 
 short by the duke's saying to his companions: "A 
 brave fellow this a very brave fellow ; at firing from 
 a window, or killing his man from behind the shadow 
 of a bulkhead."
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE GREEN DRAGON. 117 
 
 Poor Gou jon's face, which had been wreathed in 
 smiles at the first words, fell woefully at the uncompli- 
 mentary conclusion. 
 
 He was so confused that amidst the general laughter 
 he tripped over his sword and only with difficulty re- 
 covered himself. 
 
 " Do you doubt my courage, monseigneur?" he asked, 
 attempting to brave it out, although his face was as red 
 as a poppy. 
 
 "Not I!" replied the duke with careless contempt. 
 " I knew you for a bragging coward long ago. But 
 here!" And motioning him to follow, he led the way 
 a little apart from the others, and pausing as it chanced 
 not three steps from where Raoul was standing in the 
 shadow, so that each word of the conversation that en- 
 sued was distinctly audible to the involuntary eaves- 
 dropper. 
 
 "Well, my prince of go-betweens, old Sir Pandarus," 
 began De Bassompierre, still daintily inhaling the 
 essence of his vinaigrette, "is the girl amenable to 
 reason?" 
 
 "The girl is an ill-conditioned wench," replied Gou- 
 jon. " She stands upon her honor." 
 
 "Honor!" laughed the duke. "The honor of a 
 Bohemian ! Let her give me its weight in gold pieces, 
 and the bargain's concluded." 
 
 " I I have told monseigneur, that she will make no 
 terms." 
 
 "Then we will try what force can do. Chut! She 
 is there!" And he nodded toward where the little band 
 of Tzigani were gathering up their paraphernalia and 
 preparing to depart. 
 
 As the eyes of the young duke fell upon the dark 
 beauty of Mirza, an expression crossed his handsome
 
 fig A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 countenance which was by no means pleasant to con- 
 template. 
 
 "They are marvellously pretty, those children of 
 Satan," he murmured, "and this witch hath sorcery in 
 her eyes to have enthralled me so. " 
 
 "Sorcery," returned Goujon, with a superstitious 
 shudder. "Were I in monseigneur's place I would 
 exorcise the devil by means of a tall gibbet or faggot 
 and tar barrel, on the Place de Greve." 
 
 "You are a fool and speak according to your folly," 
 said the duke impatiently. And then he added in a 
 lower tone, with a quick glance about him, "Have 
 you any of your men here?" 
 
 " Griffo and Mironton lads of steel ! lads of steel !" 
 
 "Carry the girl away to the prison of the Grand 
 Chatelet!" was the brief command. 
 
 Goujon started. 
 
 " But upon what plea?" he asked, hesitatingly. 
 
 "My pleasure!" retorted De Bassompierre, haughtily. 
 " These wandering children of Pharaoh are beneath the 
 law. / am above it. To the Chatelet with the gypsy, 
 and I will meet you there." 
 
 As he spoke, evidently thinking that no answer was 
 necessary or even possible, he turned and sauntered 
 back with negligent grace to his friends. 
 
 The sergeant joined his two fellow-soldiers, and after 
 a hurried consultation, the three approached the gypsies, 
 who were now quite ready to depart. 
 
 Although the chevalier was not wholly unaware of 
 the license allowed the young noblemen of the time, 
 he was both shocked and indignant at the summary 
 commands given to Goujon, especially as Mirza, the 
 girl in question, was one to whom he was under obliga- 
 tions. He was quite resolved to frustrate the attempt,
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE GREEN DRAGON. 119 
 
 but determined to await the progress of events before 
 making any move. 
 
 "Well, Paul, mon ami," exclaimed Count Lemours, 
 as the duke rejoined his companions, " you are neglect- 
 ing your friends, especially your best friend, the 
 bottle." 
 
 De Bassompierre leaned his hand lightly on the 
 speaker's shoulder, and whispered a few words in his 
 ear. 
 
 "What! Mirza the Tzigana!" exclaimed Lemours, 
 looking up with a laugh. " Mort de ma vie ! Tame 
 that wild bird!" 
 
 " My gloves against your riding-whip, Lemours," said 
 one of 'the other young noblemen, "the duke is tired of 
 the bird before the bird tires of its cage. " 
 
 " The duke is a conqueror who aims at universal con- 
 quest from the court to the cabaret. To Paul the 
 Irresistible!" 
 
 "To Paul the Irresistible!" 
 
 The pages filled the glasses but, before the toast 
 could be drunk, a wild shriek ran through the room, 
 and Mirza, pale with terror, rushed toward them, fol- 
 lowed unsteadily by the sergeant, whose face showed 
 signs of having come in contact with the pretty gypsy's 
 nails. 
 
 At the same time the two soldiers, Griffo and Miron- 
 ton, seized Pharos, the male member of the Tzigani, to 
 prevent him going to the rescue. 
 
 The girl paused before the group of noblemen. 
 
 " In charity, gentlemen, protect me from this ruffian," 
 she panted, her hands stretched out in supplication. 
 
 But, alas! there was nothing to be expected here. 
 Her appeal was answered by a burst of laughter. 
 
 "Why, this is honest Sergeant Goujon," said the
 
 I2O A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCOMY. 
 
 duke, " the favorite alike of Mars and Venus. It is he 
 who will protect you, my pretty flower of Egypt." 
 
 As he spoke, he attempted to throw his arm about 
 her waist, but Mirza, more terrified now than ever, 
 managed to elude his grasp. 
 
 She turned distractedly from one to the other, but 
 only to meet with renewed laughter and jests at her 
 frantic entreaties of protection from Goujon, who had 
 again approached to seize her. 
 
 " A mountebank !" 
 
 "A street dancer!" 
 
 "A Bohemian!" 
 
 " But a woman !" cried a clear, ringing voice. And 
 Raoul de Puycadere darted forward, and seizing Goujon 
 by the shoulder hurled him violently aside. 
 
 The gypsy, recognizing him, crouched at his feet and 
 grasped his cloak, imploring him not to leave her. 
 
 Then, as the astounded and angry young noblemen 
 made a movement to advance upon him, the Gascon 
 drew his sword and extended it over the form of the 
 kneeling Tzigana. 
 
 "Back, gentlemen!" he exclaimed in tones of stern 
 command. "While under this guard, not one of you 
 shall harm her!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A DUKL WITH SWORD AND DAGGER. 
 
 WHITE and trembling with rage, the Duke de Bas- 
 ampierre faced the daring interferer with his lordly 
 pleasure. 
 
 "By what right, my gentleman, do you meddle in 
 matters that concern yon not?" he demanded with inso- 
 lent hauteur. 
 
 " By the right which devolves on every man to protect 
 a woman from outrage," replied Raoul, calmly and im- 
 perturbably. " But who may you be, my gentleman, 
 that you pitch your voice so high?" 
 
 "Paul, Duke de Bassompierre, " was the answer, de- 
 livered with increased arrogance. 
 
 "Indeed!" said the chevalier, with an intensity of 
 politeness which was far more effective and effectual 
 than the other's passion. " Whose duty, I take it, is to 
 protect and not to outrage his Majesty's subjects!" 
 
 The words and the half-contemptuous, half-pitying 
 smile which accompanied them fired the duke's ire to a 
 white heat. 
 
 "Your name!" he exclaimed, furiously. 
 
 Raoul 's manner did not alter in the least nor was his 
 equanimity apparently at all disturbed, as he asked: 
 
 "For what purpose do you desire to know?" 
 
 " I would know whether you are worthy the blade of 
 a gentleman." 
 
 "At more fitting time and place, both name and
 
 122 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 sword shall be at your service ; for the present, it is my 
 pleasure to guard an incognito. " 
 
 During the dispute, Mirza had risen and moved away 
 until she had joined her companions, Pharos having 
 managed to free himself from the gr,asp of the soldiers, 
 who were too much interested in the quarrel of their 
 superiors to give him much attention. 
 
 Raoul saw that she was safe for the present at all 
 events. He was about to turn away from the duke, 
 when he felt a hand clutch his cloak and heard Simon 
 Beppa's voice in his ear, saying in a hoarse whisper: 
 
 "The Provost's Guard is at the door! Sheathe your 
 sword. " 
 
 And, to prove the words, a trumpet blast rang out in 
 the street. 
 
 "Au revoir, Monsieur le Due," said the chevalier, 
 bowing to the young man with cold politeness. " An- 
 other time, you may find me less patient. " 
 
 And turning partially aside, he was about to return 
 his sword to its scabbard, when De Bassompierre, with 
 a violent ejaculation, sprang forward. 
 
 "How now, varlet," he almost screamed in his pas- 
 sion, "do you dare menace me? By the mass, I will 
 have you cudgelled by my lackeys!" 
 
 As if moved by a steel spring, the chevalier wheeled 
 and faced him. 
 
 "Have a care!" he said, in a low, tense tone, that in 
 itself was a warning of coming danger. But the duke 
 was now beside himself with fury. 
 
 "Of whom?" he demanded, with fiery scorn. "Of 
 one of Navarre's beggarly troop, doubtless, who has 
 come to Paris to cut a purse as his master would thieve 
 a crown for lack of pay and rations. Be thankful your 
 chastisement is no worse!"
 
 A DUEL WITH SWORD AND DAGGER. I2J 
 
 And, with a rapid movements, he drew off one of his 
 embroidered gloves and with it struck Raoul full across 
 the mouth. 
 
 As if by magic, the whole manner of the chevalier 
 underwent an instantaneous change, all his coolness 
 vanished. The rich color mounted hot into his cheeks, 
 and his eyes flashed fire upon his assailant. Grasping 
 the duke by the breast with a hand of iron, he hissed 
 through his clenched teeth : 
 
 " I am the Chevalier de Puycadere, a Huguenot and 
 equerry to the King of Navarre ! Your equal, Monsieur 
 le Due! Unsheathe your weapon, for, were you the 
 King of France himself, your insolence should not pass 
 unpunished!" 
 
 He hurled the duke roughly back, and, dashing his 
 hat to the ground, slipped his cloak from his shoulders. 
 Then drawing from his belt one of those short, sharp 
 daggers known as " foi de gentilhomme, " he stood on 
 guard, his head thrown proudly back, sword and dag- 
 ger in hand. 
 
 But he had declared himself a Huguenot, and swords 
 of both soldiers and noblemen flashed in air, amidst a 
 clamor of cries : 
 
 " A Huguenot ! A Huguenot !" 
 
 " By the beard of Saint Bridget, I knew it!" 
 
 "Upon him all!" 
 
 Before this last command could be carried into exe- 
 cution, the duke, who had unsheathed his sword and 
 drawn his dagger, sprang between. 
 
 "Back! back! All of you!" he commanded. "This 
 quarrel's mine. In such matters, Paul de Bassompierre 
 needs no proxy !" 
 
 The others fell back, forming a sort of half-eircl* 
 about Raoul and the duke.
 
 1*4 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCON*. 
 
 For a moment the two eyed each other; and then 
 steel clashed against steel. 
 
 Once more without the trumpet sounded loud and 
 clear. 
 
 "Heaven be praised!" ejaculated Simon Beppa. 
 "The Provost's Guard!" 
 
 But before he could reach the door, he was stopped 
 abruptly by Count Lemours, who exclaimed : 
 
 "It is a fair duel. Would these canaille interrupt 
 gentlemen? Bolt the door, some of you!" 
 
 The order was obeyed, but not an instant too soon. 
 For no quicker were the heavy bolts shot into place, 
 than there came a tremendous pounding upon the pan- 
 els of the door, and the voice of the Provost was heard 
 demanding entrance in the king's name. 
 
 No one paid any attention, however. All were too 
 intent upon the fight going on before their eyes. 
 
 Neither of the antagonists had yet the advantage, in 
 that most picturesque of all the many fashions of the 
 duello with sword and poniard where the poniard 
 held in the left hand is used to protect the breast and 
 parry sword-thrusts. The chevalier was unquestion- 
 ably the best swordsman of the two and more than once 
 he could have pierced the heart of his adversary. But 
 he had no wish to kill the hot-headed young fellow. 
 His only desire was to wound him slightly and give him 
 a lesson he would not forget. 
 
 This was not the case with the duke, however. He 
 thrust and cut with the greatest fury. 
 
 Suddenly, in one of these thrusts, the chevalier, by a 
 skilful turn of the wrist, twisted the sword from the 
 young man's hand and it fell clattering upon the floor. 
 
 With a cry of ungovernable rage, the duke snatched 
 at tip and hurled himself again upon his adversary.
 
 A DUEL WITH SWORD AND DAGGER. 125 
 
 The chevalier, who was now entirely cool, found no 
 difficulty in parrying the thrust. with his own sword, 
 but the onslaught of the duke was so furious that the 
 latter found it impossible to stop his impetus and he 
 dashed himself against the chevalier, literally impaling 
 himself upon the dagger which Raoul was holding point 
 outward to protect his breast. 
 
 With a loud cry De Bassompierre staggered and fell, 
 measuring his full length upon the ground. 
 
 Count Lemours rushed forward and raised the head 
 upon his knee. 
 
 In another moment he looked up and muttered 
 brokenly : 
 
 "He is dead!" 
 
 Dead ! Raoul stood as if thunderstruck, and, with a 
 sudden revulsion of feeling, a great wave of pity stole 
 over him for the young man thus cut off in the prime 
 of life by an accident, for accident it surely was. 
 
 Another blare of trumpets and a still louder pound- 
 ing upon the door ! 
 
 Raoul was roused from his sad revery by Mirza, who 
 pulled him by the sleeve and pointed toward the win- 
 dow, whispering: 
 
 " Fly, chevalier, or you are lost. The guard are sur- 
 rounding the house. There is only one way. The river!" 
 
 " A choice between fire and water ! Mordiou ! here 
 goes for the water." 
 
 Hurriedly sheathing his sword, he snatched up his 
 hat and ran lightly up the wooden staircase and out 
 upon the balcony, just as Sergeant Goujon lifted the 
 bar and admitted the soldiers of the guard, screaming 
 to them as they poured in : 
 
 " The Duke de Bassompierre is killed ! There is the 
 assassin!"
 
 126 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The soldiers raised their muskets to fire upon the 
 figure on the balcony, but Count Lemours, flinging 
 himself between, thundered out : 
 
 " No, the duel was a fair one. " 
 
 "Mille tonnerres! Would you save a heretic?" 
 shrieked Goujon. " Death to the Huguenot!" 
 
 And snatching an arquebuse from one of the soldiers, 
 he levelled it and fired. 
 
 Raoul turned, lifted his hat, from which the bullet 
 had cut the feather, waved it defiantly, and leaped over 
 the low parapet, plunging into the water below.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A PORT IN A STORM. 
 
 THE chevalier was an admirable swimmer, and, 
 although considerably encumbered by his sword, which 
 he refused to cast aside, he succeeded in reaching the 
 Pont Neuf, and clambering up out of the water. 
 
 The bridge was only partially finished, but still pass- 
 able for foot-passengers, and all about were strewn 
 stones and lumber left by the workmen. 
 
 It was now quite dark, and the moon, which was near 
 its full, had not yet risen. 
 
 Raoul was as wet and weary as a hunted rat, and he 
 knew that there would be a tremendous hue and cry 
 and that the chase would be a hot one. He had killed 
 the Duke de Bassompierre, the owner of a great name 
 and a powerful one, and, moreover, he himself was a 
 Huguenot. 
 
 He looked about him and found that he was in about 
 the middle of the bridge. Perhaps this would be as 
 good a place as any to hide in for the present. So, 
 wringing the water from his clothes as best he could, 
 he crawled into a narrow opening between two stones, 
 just beneath a recently completed parapet. 
 
 From his hiding-place he could hear shouts and see 
 the flashing of torches along the quay. Now and then 
 hurrying footsteps resounded over the bridge. 
 
 Suddenly, he was startled by the sound of voices just 
 over his head. Two men had paused beside the para- 
 pet, and the fugitive soon discovered from their conver-
 
 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCOHY. 
 
 sation that they were the soldiers who had been with 
 the sergeant at the Green Dragon. 
 
 " He can't escape!" said one. 
 
 "No, probably not," replied the other, with a slight 
 Italian accent ; " but he may let himself float down with 
 the tide and land farther on." 
 
 " Impossible ! The watch is out, and the banks of the 
 river are alive with torches. Hear them !" as the sound 
 of shouts and cries was borne on the night air. " By 
 the mass ! to hunt a heretic is rare sport. " 
 
 " This particular heretic is a devil incarnate. By hilt 
 and point! as the sergeant says, how he managed his 
 rapier! Sa! sa! sa! And pouf! pouf! It makes my 
 blood run cold to think of it. " 
 
 " Ha! ha! Not so cold as that of the duke." 
 
 "The duke was a lad of mettle, a bully-boy, a night- 
 roamer, who loved a lass and a glass." 
 
 "Pardi! He's gone. May the saints rest his soul! 
 and many a gold piece goes with him! Griffo, here's 
 some good Malvoisin in this flask. Let's drink to the 
 confusion of all heretics, and especially this Huguenot 
 equerry!" 
 
 But the sentiment was destined not to be drunk just 
 then, at all events, for the colloquy of the two soldiers 
 was abruptly interrupted. 
 
 "With a clink and a clank, 
 With a clink and a clank, 
 Here's more strength to the Catholic flail !" 
 
 hiccoughed a coarse voice to the accompaniment of 
 unsteady footsteps and jingling scabbard. 
 
 " Here comes the sergeant," muttered Griffo. 
 
 " With a skin as full of wine as our Huguenot's must 
 be of water."
 
 A PORT IN A STORM. 189 
 
 Both statements were true, for the sergeant came 
 staggering up to his two subordinates, his huge sword 
 trailing behind him and continually getting between 
 his legs. 
 
 "Curse the sword!" he mumbled, stumbling against 
 the parapet. " I can't walk straight for it. When our 
 very swords turn heretic, there's an end hie to the 
 true religion." 
 
 "And a speedy downfall to its supporters, " laughed 
 Griffo. 
 
 Sergeant Goujon pulled himself together with an 
 effort, and with a desperate attempt at dignity com- 
 manded : 
 
 "Soldiers, respect your superior officer. Where's 
 the flask I told you to take from the table when they all 
 hie ran out of the tavern?" 
 
 "Here, sergeant," replied Griffo, with evident reluc- 
 tance. 
 
 "And yours, Mironton?" 
 
 "Here, sergeant." 
 
 " Good, very good," and he took a flask from each, to 
 their intense disgust. " Always retain your hie pres- 
 ence of mind in face of an enemy. Now do you two 
 guard the ends of the bridge, and the middle shall be my 
 care. If any attempt to pass, shoot 'em down. Go!" 
 
 The disappointed soldiers glanced at each other, 
 shrugged their shoulders, but were forced to obey, and 
 the hidden Gascon heard them tramping off in opposite 
 directions. 
 
 Then came the sounds of the popping of a cork and 
 the gurgling of the liquor down Goujon's ever-thirsty 
 throat. 
 
 "With a clink and a clank, 
 With a clink and a clank*
 
 130 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " Sleepy as an owl hie rascally landlord put laud- 
 anum in wine " 
 
 Down plumped the brave watchman of the middle of 
 the bridge with his back against one of the stones be- 
 tween which his prey was crouching, and soon his 
 heavy snores told that he was safe in the land of Nod. 
 
 Raoul raised his head, made sure that the coast was 
 clear, and crawled cautiously out of the uncomfortable 
 shelter. 
 
 He stooped over and scrutinized Goujon attentively. 
 Yes, he was fast asleep, as sound as a church. But 
 what was the chevalier to do? Both ends of the bridge 
 were guarded. There was little chance of escape. He 
 was caught like a rat in a trap. 
 
 "More more wine!" whimpered Goujon in his 
 sleep. 
 
 "Peace, you wine-cask!" muttered De Puycadere. 
 And then a sudden inspiration seized him. Yes, there 
 was a chance, a bare one, but worth trying at all events. 
 He bent over the snoring form and gently removed the 
 hat and cloak. Then he carefully dragged the uncon- 
 scious sergeant behind a buttress of the bridge. 
 
 Scarcely had he bestowed him safely out of sight, 
 when a voice cried out from one end of the bridge : 
 
 " He climbed the parapet. I saw him. This way ! 
 This way!" 
 
 The chevalier had just time to slouch Goujon's hat 
 over his eyes, hind-part before, so that the feather dan- 
 gled over his face, and to arrange cloak and sword in a 
 swaggering fashion, before Griffo came running up 
 followed by two other soldiers and a man in the dress 
 of a tradesman. 
 
 "Sergeant!" called Griffo, excitedly. 
 
 "Well hie what news?" returned Raoul, imitating
 
 A PORT IN A STORM. IJl 
 
 Goujon's voice as best he could, and lurching forward 
 as if in an advanced stage of intoxication. 
 
 " A citizen swears he saw the Huguenot climbing one 
 of the piers of the bridge. " 
 
 "Bah! He's drunk. And to be drunk hie after 
 curfew time is to be punishable by law. Take him to 
 the guard-house and give him hie the strappado." 
 
 The stratagem was evidently working well. None 
 of the four men seemed to have the least suspicion that 
 it was not the sergeant who stood or rather staggered 
 before them. Nevertheless Raoul realized that at any 
 moment all might be discovered. He could distinctly 
 hear Goujon's snores, and, moreover, the moon had 
 risen and was flooding the scene with its soft light. 
 
 "But, sergeant," remonstrated Griffo. 
 
 " Not a word," broke in his soi-disant superior with a 
 drunken flourish and swagger. " Respect your sergeant. 
 When you've caught the heretic, bring him hie be- 
 fore me. I'll go to the tavern and sleep." And he 
 reeled forward, the laughing soldiers making ready 
 way for him. 
 
 " But, Griffo, " he said, turning with a sudden lurch 
 and almost upsetting the tradesman who was just be- 
 hind him. "What's the password? I've hie forgot- 
 ten it." 
 
 " Lorraine. " 
 
 " Lorraine ! hie too good a name to come from a dry 
 throat. I'll drink it in a bumper. Here's a health to 
 the hie what do you call it? With a clink and a 
 clank with a " 
 
 And he proceeded on his way, tottering from side to 
 side, but still with eyes and ears open, and with one 
 hand firmly clinched on the hilt of his sword, so that he 
 could draw it at a moment's notice, should occasion
 
 I3 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 demand. For he was determined to sell his life dearly 
 at all events. 
 
 "The sergeant carries his wine badly to-night," re- 
 marked Griffo to one of the tittering soldiers. 
 
 "Ma foi!" was the reply, "did you ever know the 
 night when he carried it well?" 
 
 Back upon the still night air came the stumbling 
 refrain : 
 
 " Here's a health to the Duke of Guise, 
 Here's a health to the hie Duke of Guise." 
 
 But the echoes had not died before the words were 
 taken up in still more drunken tones, which seemed to 
 the astounded Griffo to proceed from beneath his very 
 feet: 
 
 "With a clink and a clank, 
 With a clink and a clank 
 -Here's more strength to the hie Catholic flail." 
 
 With cries of surprise and terror the little group 
 started back, their faces white in the moonlight. 
 
 The tradesman was the first to recover himself. 
 
 " There's some one concealed behind that buttress," 
 he exclaimed, pointing to where protruded the buff 
 boots of the sergeant. 
 
 Griffo darted forward and, seizing the boots, dragged 
 into view the struggling figure of his superior officer. 
 
 "Mort de ma vie! It's the sergeant himself!" he 
 cried. And then, as it flashed across him how thor- 
 oughly he had been duped, he screamed at the top of 
 his voice: "And the Huguenot is escaping! After 
 him, comrades!" 
 
 And away they all started, dragging the blinking, 
 cursing sergeant with them, like a pack of hounds in 
 full cry after their quarry.
 
 A PORT IN A STORM. 133 
 
 Raoul had not very much the start of them, as he 
 had not dared to proceed very fast, for fear of being 
 noticed, and, moreover, he had been stopped at the end 
 of the bridge by a sentinel demanding the password. 
 
 Fortunately, thanks to his forethought, he was able 
 to give it, but he had not gone a dozen steps from the 
 sentinel, when the tumult on the bridge told him that 
 his ruse had been discovered. 
 
 There was no time to 1 ose. Gathering up his cloak, 
 he started at a rapid pace down the quay and dashed 
 into the first side street he came to. 
 
 His movement however was observed, as he soon be- 
 came aware by the shouts, not a great distance behind 
 him, of 
 
 " Death to the Huguenot! Death to the Huguenot!" 
 
 Turning his head as he ran, he saw that his pursuers 
 must number at least a score, which was indeed the fact. 
 
 Fortunately for them and unfortunately for their prey, 
 Griffo and his companions had stumbled upon Count 
 Lemours and his friends, who were still pursuing the 
 search. 
 
 All thought of making a stand at once vanished from 
 the chevalier's mind. The numbers of his pursuers 
 were far too great for him to do so with any hope of 
 success. 
 
 There was but one thing to be done to find some 
 place of asylum. But where? 
 
 He darted down a side street, doubled and came back 
 upon the quay again. But the stratagem was not a 
 success. His would-be captors were still at his heels, 
 not two hundred yards away. 
 
 He found himself in front of an imposing mansion, 
 with armorial bearings above the door which showed 
 that it belonged to one of the nobility.
 
 i$4 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 A light was burning in a window on the second floor. 
 
 The wall was covered with ivy. 
 
 Instantly his plan was formed. He would attempt to 
 reach the window and throw himself upon the mercy of 
 the occupant or occupants of the room. 
 
 At this juncture, to think was to act. 
 
 Grasping the ivy, and clinging with hands and feet, 
 he clambered up and succeeded in reaching the balcony. 
 
 Had he been discovered? 
 
 To this question time alone, and a short time at that, 
 could give the answer.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE BASSOMPIERRE. 
 
 ON the evening of the unfortunate duel at the Green 
 Dragon, there had taken place a stormy scene at the 
 Hotel de Bassompierre, the participants being Mademoi- 
 selle Gabrielle de Vrissac and her guardians Vicomte 
 Hector de Vrissac and the Duchess de Bassompierre. 
 
 Since the feast of Saint Bartholomew, the maid of 
 honor's duties at the Louvre had been slight. There 
 were no longer fetes and merrymaking. The King and 
 Queen of Navarre were in retirement, although it can 
 well be imagined that, after the betrayal of his party 
 and his own narrow escape from death, the fertile brain 
 of Henri was not idle in plotting and planning for his 
 own ultimate success. 
 
 The court of France was no less gloomy. The king 
 thought no longer of tennis, and although what the 
 queen-mother had called " the enemies of himself and 
 his kingdom" had been summarily dealt with and the 
 King of Navarre himself forced to accept the mass, 
 Charles, weak and puerile, was in a state of abject 
 terror. 
 
 He feared everybody and trusted no one, hiding in his 
 closet, surrounded by armed men, bathed in the per- 
 spiration of fear and covering his face at night, declaring 
 that the air was full of the spirits of the restless dead. 
 
 The days succeeding the massacre had been terrible 
 ones for Mademoiselle de Vrissac, alternating as she did
 
 136 GENTLEMAN FROM GASCOKV. 
 
 between hope and fear as to the fate of her Huguenot 
 lover. 
 
 No word had come from him, but finally on the fourth 
 day her heart was lightened by a note from Queen 
 Marguerite (who, even in the midst of her own troubles 
 found time to think of her friends), telling her that she 
 had learned from Ambrose Pare of the chevalier's 
 safety. 
 
 A prayer of thanksgiving went up from the young 
 girl's heart, but her peace of mind was destined to be 
 of but short duration. 
 
 Not an hour after receiving word from the queen she 
 was summoned to her aunt's apartment, there to meet 
 the frowning face of her cousin Hector. 
 
 There in the presence of the distressed duchess, he 
 gave a garbled account of his meeting with De Puyca- 
 dere and produced Gabrielle's handkerchief, which the 
 reader will remember was torn from the chevalier's 
 arm by the sword of the vicomte. 
 
 "As your guardian, I demand an explanation," said 
 De Vrissac, after he had completed his story, " an ex- 
 planation as to how your handkerchief came into pos- 
 session of this beggarly adventurer." 
 
 Gabrielle had turned cold with horror at the account 
 of the chevalier's disappearance, until she remembered 
 that the queen had said that he was safe the night 
 before. 
 
 At her cousin's words, all the pride of her race rose 
 up within her, and she faced the angry vicomte with 
 her dainty head upreared and her eyes looking fearlessly 
 into his. 
 
 "No adventurer!" she said, "but of blood equal to 
 our own, a De Puycadere, and equerry to the King of 
 Navarre."
 
 MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE RASSOMPIERRE. 137 
 
 "Add, and the lover of Mademoiselle de Vrissac," 
 sneered the vicomte. 
 
 " That and more the man I love, the man to whom I 
 have plighted my troth !" 
 
 These bold words brought consternation to the duch- 
 ess and a murderous rage to the vicomte. For a mo- 
 ment he felt as if he could strike the girl dead at his 
 feet. 
 
 Before he could find his tongue, the duchess spoke : 
 
 "Child! child!" she said, half indignantly, half sor- 
 rowfully. " Is it possible that you love this man? A 
 Huguenot? An enemy to our faith? A rebel to the 
 king!" 
 
 "Surely you forget, madame," replied Gabrielle 
 proudly, " that my father was of the reformed church, 
 and his union with my mother, your sister, a Catholic, 
 was a happy one. Nor is the Chevalier de Puycadere 
 a rebel, when he wears the colors of the King of Na- 
 varre, whose subject alone he is." 
 
 Little as she witted of it, Mademoiselle de Vrissac 
 had in these words struck a responsive chord in her 
 aunt's breast. Although her life with the late duke 
 had been a thoroughly happy one and she had had both 
 respect and a warm affection for her husband, the duch- 
 ess had never forgotten the gallant young Huguenot 
 who had touched so deeply her maiden heart, nor the 
 agony she had suffered in silence when she found her 
 sister preferred to herself. 
 
 But the effect upon the Vicomte de Vrissac was some- 
 thing totally different. Gabrielle 's speech inflamed 
 his jealous rage into something akin to madness. 
 
 "We shall see!" he hissed between his clenched 
 teeth. " You are not your own mistress, mademoiselle. 
 And your experience at court, if the Prince of Be'arn's
 
 Ijg A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 can be called a court, has not improved you. To-mor- 
 row back you go to Vrissac, there to remain until you 
 recover your senses ! Bah ! you do well to recall the 
 memory of my late uncle, who was the one stain upon 
 our honor. A traitor, a renegade, a " 
 
 "Silence!" And the duchess stood before him pale 
 with anger. "Not one word more, Monsieur le Vi- 
 comte! Your uncle was a courteous gentleman, which 
 his nephew is not ! And one thing more. Remember 
 that I am also mademoiselle's guardian, and, in arrang- 
 ing her life, you must reckon with me. No more ! We 
 will discuss this matter at another time. Good-night, 
 Monsieur le Vicomte." 
 
 With a face as black as night and almost foaming at 
 the mouth in his anger, Monsieur de Vrissac turned on 
 hi" heel, and, without parting salutation, flung himself 
 furiously out of the room. 
 
 Both the duchess and Gabrielle breathed more freely 
 after his departure. 
 
 After a pause, the duchess turned to her niece, drew 
 her toward her and kissed her on the forehead. 
 
 " You little heretic, " she murmured, gently, " at your 
 age, there is but one religion, that of the heart. " 
 
 ''Then you give your consent?" asked Gabrielle, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I do not say that. But I will inquire further con- 
 cerning this Chevalier de Puycadere, and then we shall 
 see. We shall see." 
 
 Into Gabrielle 's beautiful eyes came the light of love 
 and hope, that light that never was on land or sea, and 
 she would have overwhelmed her aunt with her grati- 
 tude. 
 
 But the latter affectionately cut her short. 
 
 "Nay, nay," she said. " 'Tis too soon. We shall
 
 MADAME LA DIJCHESSE DE BASSOMPIERRE. 139 
 
 see. Now leave me, my child, for my heart is heavy, 
 and I would be alone. But first draw the curtains and 
 shut out the light from the streets." 
 
 Gabrielle obeyed, and as the heavy curtains screened 
 the great window, closing out the moonlight, the room 
 became in deep shadow, only a small part of it being 
 dimly lighted by the silver lamp which burned before 
 the altar. 
 
 " Good-night, madame, " said Gabrielle, respectfully. 
 
 She moved toward the door, and then paused and, as 
 if influenced by a sudden impulse, retraced her steps. 
 
 "You are not offended with me, dear aunt?" she 
 asked, timidly. 
 
 "Offended! Dear child!" 
 
 The duchess extended her arms, and Gabrielle in 
 a burst of girlish tenderness threw herself into her 
 embrace. 
 
 " Good-night and sweet repose, ma tante. " 
 
 "Repose!" murmured the duchess bitterly, as the 
 graceful figure vanished from her sight. " Repose!" 
 
 And, indeed, of late, the poor woman had known but 
 little of it. Catholic though she was and devoted to 
 her faith, the recent scenes that had disgraced her native 
 city and brought down upon king and country the 
 reprobation of all Christendom, had horrified and re- 
 volted her. Although she knew that the idea of the 
 massacre neither originated with nor was encouraged 
 by the clerical element in Paris or elsewhere; that it 
 was to be attributed to that spirit of bitter hatred and 
 resentment which characterizes all races to a greater or 
 less degree, and that the Huguenots themselves had 
 already in several instances been guilty of the massacre 
 of Catholics, still her soul was sick and ashamed within 
 her.
 
 140 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 Moreover, she had another reason for grief and anx 
 iety of a more personal nature. Her son, her only son, 
 was exposed to danger, to more than usual danger now 
 that Riot sat with the king upon his throne and Murder 
 red-handed stalked the streets. 
 
 As the duchess indulged in these gloomy reflections, 
 a commotion rising in the street below and gradually 
 approaching nearer and nearer was calculated in no 
 degree to allay her fears. 
 
 She listened with beating heart, and throwing her- 
 self upon her knees upon the velvet cushion in front of 
 the prie-dieu, she raised her eyes imploringly to the 
 crucifix above the little altar, and breathed forth a 
 prayer that God and the saints would protect her son. 
 
 As slowly she bowed her head over her clasped hands, 
 the window curtains were torn aside and Raoul de Pu- 
 caydere, exhausted and breathless, staggered into the 
 room. 
 
 The duchess, absorbed in her devotions, heard noth- 
 ing, nor did the chevalier at first perceive her. He 
 had escaped for the moment the wolves who were howl- 
 ing for his blood, and, perhaps, by climbing the balcony 
 baffled them entirely. 
 
 But whither had his fears led him? The house, from 
 all appearances, must belong to one of rank and wealth. 
 
 Just then his eyes fell upon the kneeling woman, and 
 he could not repress an expression of surprise. 
 
 In bewilderment and alarm the duchess started to her 
 feet, overturning as she did so the lamp upon the altar, 
 and leaving the room in darkness save for the pale 
 moonbeams that filtered through the curtains. 
 
 " Who's there?" she cried hoarsely. " Without there ! 
 Marie! Charlotte!" 
 
 But before she could reach the door to summon aid,
 
 MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE BASSOMPIERRE. 141 
 
 Raoul, guided by the sound of her voice, had thrown 
 himself before her. 
 
 " Madame, madame, do not call!" he implored. "In 
 the name of that charity which is the blessed preroga- 
 tive of your sex, do not call." 
 
 The duchess paused, hesitated a moment, and there 
 was no tremor in her voice as she demanded haughtily : 
 
 " Who are you that under cover of the night enters 
 thus like a thief into my chamber? Who are you?" 
 
 "One most unfortunate," was the sorrowful answer. 
 
 The uproar in the street was increasing, and Raoul 
 realized that if his ascent of the balcony had been per- 
 ceived, there was no time to be lost. 
 
 "Gracious lady," he proceeded, hurriedly, "for the 
 very accent of your voice proclaims your rank, my life 
 is in your hands." 
 
 "Your life!" 
 
 " Yes. I found myself involved, by no fault of my 
 own, in a tavern brawl, and by accident rather than 
 design, I " 
 
 He hesitated. Even at such a moment the brutal 
 words were hard to speak, especially to a woman. 
 
 " Well, sir?" 
 
 " I killed my adversary. " 
 
 "Killed!" 
 
 And involuntarily the duchess retreated a step, an 
 action which was not lost upon the over-wrought 
 chevalier. 
 
 "Ah, madame," he exclaimed with passionate inten- 
 sity, " let me appeal to all that is womanly in you. It 
 was in defence of one of your own sex, a wanderer, it is 
 true, a Bohemian, poor and defenceless defenceless 
 but for me. I rescued her from insult, from worse than 
 insult, and and I have told the rest"
 
 142 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 He paused. There was something in his accent that 
 almost convinced the duchess of his sincerity. 
 
 "The man is dead?" she said, after a moment. 
 
 " I left him on the tavern floor," replied Raoul. " He 
 stirred my blood beyond the power of control. Were 
 there but light enough to see my face, your own eyes 
 could bear witness to the coward mark his glove has 
 left upon my cheek." 
 
 "He struck you." 
 
 " Aye, and with words as injurious as his blow." 
 
 The clamor outside was now directly beneath the 
 window, and the red glare of torches shimmered fitfully 
 upon the curtains. 
 
 "They are there, madame," murmured Raoul, des- 
 perately, " beneath your balcony. It is for you to give 
 or to refuse the feast of blood." 
 
 " What is it you demand?" she asked, abruptly. 
 
 " Protection ! Your house is now my only sanctuary, 
 and the altar I would cling to is your mercy." 
 
 "You plead well." 
 
 " I plead for life. Ah, madame, bethink you, is there 
 no life dear to you, that chance may place in a similar 
 peril? A husband? A son?" 
 
 The duchess started violently. A son? Heaven for- 
 bid that Paul should be in such danger! And yet who 
 could tell? Perhaps the succor now demanded of her 
 by this stranger her own son might one day stand in 
 need of. At this thought all hesitation vanished. 
 
 "No more, monsieur, no more," she said in great 
 agitation. "I believe your story. Give me your 
 hand. " 
 
 And she led him toward the head of the bed and 
 pushed aside the hangings. " Conceal yourself behind 
 these curtains, and, when hidden, stir not. Should
 
 MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE BASSOMPIERRE. 143 
 
 any, as you think they will do, penetrate into this 
 house, they will credit my denial and search no further. " 
 
 Raoul raised the hand he held to his lips and some- 
 thing suspiciously like a tear dropped upon it. 
 
 "Be of comfort, monsieur," said the duchess, softly. 
 " I pledge my word, my sacred word, that, whatever be- 
 tide, you shall leave this house in safety. I swear it !" 
 
 And she stretched out her hand toward the white 
 crucifix, which glimmered ghost-like through the gloom. 
 
 Raoul drew the hangings about him, and his benefac- 
 tress turned away. 
 
 Not a moment too soon ! Already there was a hurried 
 knocking at the door, which in another second was 
 thrown open, and several of the Provost's Guard, led by 
 Count Lemours, Sergeant Goujon, and Griffo, entered 
 tumultuously. 
 
 But they halted in confusion and uncovered their 
 heads, as the light of their torches fell upon the duch- 
 ess, who stood confronting them, her figure drawn t6 
 its full height and her whole attitude haughty and 
 commanding. 
 
 "What means this intrusion?" she demanded, coldly. 
 " Ah ! you are the Count Lemours, I believe. Tell me 
 by what right this drunken rabble have dared to cross 
 the threshold of my house? Be sure, monsieur, my son 
 will exact a strict account from him whose boldness 
 may have counselled this intrusion." 
 
 Lemours advanced a little, the deepest respect, sym- 
 pathy, and sorrow depicted on every lineament of his 
 countenance. 
 
 " Madame la Duchesse," he said, falteringly, "it is on 
 the duke's account alone that that " 
 
 "Speak on, monsieur," broke in the duchess, Im- 
 patiently.
 
 144 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " I I dare not. 
 
 "Darenotl" 
 
 " I bring but woeful tidings. " 
 
 The duchess advanced close to the wretched count 
 and fixed her burning eyes upon his, as if she would 
 wrest the truth from his very soul. The delicate old 
 face flushed crimson, and then grew pale and rigid as 
 marble. 
 
 "Woeful tidings," she gasped, each word a manifest 
 effort. "Of whom? My son? Where is he why do 
 you look at each other, and He is dead! Do not 
 speak! I read it in your eyes! My boy is dead!" 
 
 She staggered back, and, resting against a table, 
 clasped her hands above her heart. Dead ! dead ! and 
 she still lived ! Her eyes wandered fitfully about the 
 room, and, as often happens when every other faculty 
 seems paralyzed by some sudden shock of grief, each 
 petty detail burned itself indelibly upon her memory. 
 
 As her wandering glance fell upon the bed, the cur- 
 tains trembled slightly. She started as one awaking 
 from a terrible dream, and made a step toward the bed, 
 then halted abruptly. 
 
 At this moment, with that fatuousness which makes 
 fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Goujon sput- 
 tered out in his thick voice : 
 
 " By the mass, Madame la Duchesse, but 'tis your 
 son's murderer we seek. May I never empty wine-flask 
 again but I saw the Calvinistic dog enter by this 
 window." 
 
 A shudder ran over the duchess' frame. Her lips 
 moved, but no sound issued forth. 
 
 "With these two eyes I saw him." 
 
 The afflicted woman swayed slightly and seemed 
 about to sink to the ground, but as Lemours sprang for-
 
 MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE BASSOMPIERRE. 145 
 
 ward to assist her, she recovered herself and waved 
 him back. Here was no woman to weep and wail, but 
 a grande dame from the crown of her snowy head to the 
 tip of her dainty foot. The deepest emotion knows no 
 voice to express itself. A Du Barri shrieks upon the 
 scaffold, but a De Rohan dies mute. 
 
 " How was he killed?" she asked in hollow tones, ad- 
 dressing Lemours. " By what base sleight of hand was 
 my boy's life struck out?" 
 
 " Madame, I must needs speak the truth, " returned 
 Lemours, gravely, "The duke was killed in a fair 
 duel." 
 
 "And the cause? What was the cause? Answer 
 quickly, monsieur!" 
 
 Lemours, with lowered eyes, was silent. 
 
 " Enough, it will not bear the telling." 
 
 A terrible struggle was going on in the duchess' 
 breast. She had but to stretch out her hand, and the 
 man who killed her son would be in the hands of jus- 
 tice. Vengeance was knocking at her heart, but she 
 dare not give it entrance. She had sworn that, what- 
 ever betide, the man who claimed the asylum of her 
 roof should go thence in safety. Noblesse oblige! A 
 Bassompierre keeps his word. 
 
 " Count de Lemours," she said slowly, " I thank you, 
 but must entreat you to retire and take these men with 
 you. This drunkard," with a contemptuous movement 
 of her hand toward Goujon, " this drunkard speaks out 
 of the wine he has drunk. For for this time the as- 
 sassin has escaped. Go, monsieur, go; I claim the 
 sanctuary of sorrow." 
 
 As slowly and quietly as they had entered hurriedly 
 and tumultuously, Lemours and his companions left the 
 room. 
 
 10
 
 146 A G1NTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The door closed softly behind them, and for a mo- 
 ment, intense silence reigned in the apartment. 
 
 Then, averting her head from the bed behind the 
 curtains of which Raoul was hidden, the duchess spoke : 
 
 " Miserable man, come forth. But cover your face 
 lest meeting you hereafter I should know you and exact 
 the penalty. I will keep the oath I have sworn. Go 
 forth ! You are free. " 
 
 Slowly Raoul emerged from his hiding-place, his 
 cloak held before his face and his whole frame shaken 
 with noiseless sobs. 
 
 "Let neither fear nor gratitude betray you," contin- 
 ued the duchess in the same emotionless tones. " I 
 have kept my word, but if chance discover you within 
 the walls of Paris after morning dawns, I stand between 
 you and death no longer. " 
 
 Without a word, Raoul, more miserable than he had 
 ever been in his life, groped his way across the room. 
 
 But before he could reach the door, it was suddenly 
 opened, and the white-robed figure of Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac appeared, holding a lamp above her head. 
 
 With a low cry, Raoul dropped his cloak and invol- 
 untarily sank upon one knee, almost imagining that he 
 was in the presence of some celestial visitor. 
 
 The light fell full upon his upturned face. 
 
 "It is he!" cried Gabrielle, half wonderingly, half 
 joyfully. " Raoul de Puycadere! My betrothed!" 
 
 But between them swept the stately figure of the 
 duchess, stern and inexorable as Fate itself, and from 
 her pallid lips fell slowly, one by one, the icy words 
 which withered all the blossoming hopes of Gabrielle's 
 young heart : 
 
 " And the murderer of my son I "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN FROCK AND COWL. 
 
 "You are mad, Master Raoul, you are mad, thus 
 to thrust your head within the lion's jaws! Here you 
 are safe, but nowhere else in this accursed city of 
 Paris!" 
 
 The speaker was Simon Beppa, the landlord of the 
 "Green Dragon," and the person addressed Raoul de 
 Puycadere, who, in the dress of a Cordelier monk, a 
 brown robe fastened with a rope around the waist, stood 
 listening with an obstinate smile about his lips. 
 
 It was a strange place the two men were in the 
 cellar of a house which had long since been razed to the 
 ground. A flight of crumbling steps led down to it 
 from the quay, and one side had been knocked away to 
 give access to the river. The walls were reeking with 
 green slime, and ever and anon a frightened rat darted 
 across the uneven floor and sped away into the 
 darkness. 
 
 Yet, such as it was, it was a place of refuge for the 
 hunted Huguenot. 
 
 After the terrible revelation which had been made to 
 him in the duchess' palace, Raoul had staggered forth 
 from the presence of the woman he loved, knowing 
 nothing and caring less of what might become of him. 
 
 As he made his way along the silent quay, more dead 
 than alive, his senses in a maze, he was roused from his
 
 148 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 abstraction by a light touch upon the arm, and, raising 
 his eyes, he saw before him the gypsy girl, Mirza, at- 
 tended by her lover, Pharos. 
 
 " Monsieur, why are you here?" she said, timorously. 
 " It is not safe, oh, it is not safe ! Come with me, mon- 
 sieur, I implore you." 
 
 Raoul looked at her with blank eyes, but made no 
 reply. He did not resist, however, the gentle pressure 
 of her hand, but allowed himself to be led to the cellar 
 by the river-side, which wretched place served as a 
 temporary abode for the Tzigani. 
 
 Once here, he sank down upon a pile of sacks, and, 
 worn out by all he had passed through that day, almost 
 immediately sank into a deep and dreamless sleep. 
 
 When he awoke, the morning was far advanced, and, 
 refreshed as he was, his splendid vitality reasserted it- 
 self, and things looked by no means so dark as they had 
 done. 
 
 After all, where was he so much to blame? His ad- 
 versary had been killed in a fair duel, and entirely 
 through the fault of his own impetuosity. If Gabrielle 
 loved him, she would surely forgive. But, one thing 
 he was resolved he would see her at all costs before 
 leaving for La Rochelle. 
 
 There were still twenty-four hours before him ere he 
 was to start on the king's mission. The packet and his 
 little store of gold, which had been sewn into his doub- 
 let, were safe. 
 
 But how could he bring about an interview with 
 Gabrielle? After much cogitation, he finally decided 
 to take Mirza into his confidence. 
 
 The gypsy girl, excited and greatly flattered, prom- 
 ised to do all in her power, and would loiter about the 
 Hotel de Bassompierre all the day in order to try to
 
 IN FROCK AND COWL. 149 
 
 
 
 obtain a glimpse of and a word with Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac. 
 
 Pharos was dispatched to bring a disguise and also to 
 carry word to Simon Beppa of the chevalier's safety. 
 
 Although it seemed hours to the waiting Raoul, it 
 was really a very short time before the gypsy returned, 
 bringing with him the monk's robe, and, accompanied 
 by Simon Beppa, the faithful. 
 
 To all good Simon's remonstrances, however, but a 
 deaf ear was turned by De Puycadere, who by this time 
 had almost entirely recovered his native fund of audac- 
 ity and good spirits. 
 
 "Mordiou! you old croaker," he said, cutting short 
 the innkeeper. " Beneath this cowl I shall be as safe 
 as in the Chateau de Puycadere itself. See that the 
 horse is in readiness at daybreak to-morrow, but mean- 
 while I'm my own master and see her I must and 
 will." 
 
 Simon shook his head in despair. 
 
 "Yes, it's of no use," laughed Raoul. "Remember 
 your youth, good Simon. Were you never in love?" 
 
 "With a bottle of Rhenish or a roasted pullet, yes," 
 growled the innkeeper. 
 
 "Why, you old heretic! Have no fear, I'll " 
 
 But he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of 
 Mirza, flushed and eager. 
 
 In an instant, Raoul saw that she had some news for 
 him. 
 
 "Hist, monsieur, hist!" 
 
 " What is it, Mirza? What is it?" he cried, hastening 
 to the side of the panting girl. 
 
 " I have bribed the gardener of the Hotel de Bassom- 
 pierre. Here is the key of the water-gate." 
 
 " How shall I thank you !"
 
 I$O A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " But that is not all. Madame de Bassompierre, ac- 
 companied by Mademoiselle de Vrissac, goes this morn- 
 ing to the church of Saint Germain to attend a mass for 
 the repose of the soul of of " 
 
 " I understand. And I will be there!" 
 
 "Monsieur!" exclaimed Mirza and Simon simultane- 
 ously. 
 
 "The danger, Monsieur le Chevalier!" 
 
 "The danger! Pouf ! I burrow no longer here like 
 a mole underground. Within an hour, I shall see her, 
 speak to her perhaps! And then what matters the 
 afterward? Mordiou! I will not look beyond so great 
 a happiness!" 
 
 "A wilful man must have his way," sighed Beppa. 
 
 " Your love must indeed be great, monsieur, to risk 
 so much," said Mirza, a little wistfully, wondering, 
 perhaps, if Pharos would be as devoted to her. 
 
 "For her I would risk all!" exclaimed Raoul rap- 
 turously. " My little Mirza, I shall never forget your 
 goodness. But for you and your friends, I might have 
 been in the Chatelet long ere this. But tell me, how 
 may I reward your generous aid? I feel that what I 
 would offer is insufficient to " 
 
 He had taken out his purse, but Mirza drew quickly 
 back, and with a gesture absolutely queen-like in its 
 dignity, waved aside the proffered recompense. 
 
 "We are Bohemians, Monsieur le Chevalier," she 
 said proudly, her little head erect and a slight flush 
 tinging the dusky hue of her cheek, " but we have hearts 
 beneath our frippery and rags. After what you have 
 done for me, there is not one of the children of Egypt 
 but would peril life and limb to do you service, while 
 all would resent as insult the mention of payment or 
 reward. Pardon me, monsieur, if I speak strongly, but
 
 IN FROCK AND COWL. 151 
 
 I feel strongly, and, though we do not worship at the 
 same altar, I will pray for you and her." 
 
 With a twinge of honest shame, the chevalier thrust 
 his purse back into his doublet, and, taking the little 
 dark hand, he raised it respectfully, almost humbly, to 
 his lips. 
 
 In another moment he was gone. 
 
 With bent head, cowl drawn well down over his eyes 
 and his hands hidden in the sleeves of his gown, he 
 proceeded slowly down the quay, until he reached the 
 Grande Esplanade of the Louvre. 
 
 It was a fete day, and the splendid square was 
 thronged. The beggars and gypsies, among whom 
 Raoul recognized Pharos and Ismael, were reaping a 
 rich harvest. 
 
 The chevalier threaded the maze, the people making 
 way right and left for the monk, until he came to the 
 church of Saint Germain 1'Auxerrois, upon the steps of 
 which he seated himself with bowed head, as if ab- 
 sorbed in pious meditation. 
 
 From the open door of the church came the melan- 
 choly notes of the dirge for the dead, and the solemn 
 
 Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis ! 
 mingled with the gay 
 
 Hola! Zi! za! Hola! 
 
 of the gypsy dance, forming a strange and bizarre effect. 
 
 Close to the church, at the right of where Raoul was 
 sitting, was a stone pillar on a sort of platform consist- 
 ing of two steps. 
 
 This pillar was one of those from which proclama- 
 tions were delivered and then afterward attached. 
 
 Suddenly the roll of a drum and the flourish of a
 
 152 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 trumpet broke upon the air, interrupting the gypsy rev- 
 els and causing the dancers to scatter in disorder. 
 
 Then in a heavy voice, which Raoul recognized, caus- 
 ing him to draw his cowl still lower over his face, came 
 the words: 
 
 " Back ! Stand back, all of you ! Griffo, drive me in 
 a few of these rascals' ribs with the butt end of your 
 arquebuse, and do you, Mironton, break yon fat fellow's 
 head that he may learn modesty and keep himself in 
 smaller compass. By the beard of Saint Bridget, I'll 
 teach the varlets wisdom !" 
 
 The crowd parted, and in the pathway thus formed 
 appeared Sergeant Annibal Goujon, accompanied by 
 half a score of soldiers, and followed by a gayly capari- 
 soned crier on horseback with two attendants in the city 
 livery. 
 
 The crier rode up to the column, and, reining in his 
 horse, faced the people. 
 
 "Silence, citizens!" 
 
 " Hats off!" roared the sergeant, with a flourish of his 
 sword. 
 
 In a twinkling all hats and caps were doffed, and the 
 crier proceeded to read the following proclamation : 
 
 " Proclamation ! We, Charles, by the grace of God, King 
 of France, do hereby order the payment of five hundred golden 
 frowns to such person or persons as shall deliver into the cus- 
 tody of the Provost of this good city of Paris the body of one 
 Raoul, Chevalier de Puycadere, heretic and assassin, alive or 
 dead. God save the King /" 
 
 And the crier, after affixing the paper to the column, 
 rode away to repeat the performance at the next street 
 corner. 
 
 Sergeant Goujon and the soldiers followed, the ser-
 
 IN FROCK AND COWL. 153 
 
 geant's avaricious fingers itching for the possession of 
 the reward. 
 
 "Those Huguenots are pestilent," observed a woman 
 standing near Raoul. 
 
 "The more the merrier," replied another. "We'll 
 dose them with a second Bartholomew. " 
 
 "By holy mass! but the chevalier must be of the 
 boldest to kill so great a seigneur." 
 
 " He stabbed him from behind, Sergeant Goujon 
 says. " 
 
 "Ay, and would have killed many another, but the 
 sergeant struck in, and made the heretic take to cold 
 water. " 
 
 " A brave man, the sergeant!" 
 
 " But a quarrelsome. Let's follow the crier." 
 
 " Ay ! It's a rare sport, this hunting heretics." 
 
 And the two gossips toddled away to satisfy their 
 greed for excitement. 
 
 Through it all, the supposed monk had maintained 
 his statue-like attitude upon the church steps, but now 
 a slight noise within the sacred edifice itself caused him 
 cautiously to turn his head. 
 
 The mass was over. 
 
 Half a dozen retainers in the Bassompierre livery 
 came first, and then a black-robed figure, wearing a 
 heavy wimple which concealed her features, slowly de- 
 scended the steps. Last came, with downcast eyes, the 
 lady of Raoul 's heart. Just as the sombre-robed form 
 reached the foot of the steps, the voice of the crier was 
 heard : 
 
 " Five hundred golden crowns for the arrest of Raoul, 
 Chevalier de Puycadere, alive or dead." 
 
 The wimple was thrown back, and from beneath the 
 shadow of his cowl the chevalier gazed upon the white
 
 154 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 face of the duchess, growing sterner and harder as she 
 listened. 
 
 Her b'ps moved, and Raoul saw rather than heard the 
 words : 
 
 " Dead or alive ! Dead ! ay, far better dead, for my 
 son shall be avenged. " 
 
 The duchess, preceded by her servants, moved away, 
 and the graceful, sad-eyed girl, who followed her, was 
 now close at Raoul's side. 
 
 He rose to his feet, and, raising his cowl with one 
 hand so as to show his face, breathed the word : 
 
 "Gabrielle!" 
 
 "Raoul!" And Mademoiselle de Vrissac, pale as 
 marble, paused, her startled eyes resting upon his face. 
 
 "One word! But one!" he pleaded. "I must speak 
 to you." 
 
 But Mademoiselle de Vrissac, her hand pressed con- 
 vulsively to her heart, made no response. 
 
 " I will be at the water gate of the Bassompierre gar- 
 dens within half an hour," continued Raoul, with rapid 
 and passionate entreaty. " Will you meet me, Gabri- 
 elle? Will you? I must speak to you. I must. Do 
 not deny me ! It is my last request, my last. " 
 
 "Your last," murmured Gabrielle, faintly. 
 
 "Listen," replied the chevalier, bitterly. 
 
 And as if uttering words of doom, the voice of the 
 crier fell upon their aching hearts : 
 
 " Five hundred crowns for the arrest of Raoul, Cher- 
 alier de Puycadere, dead or alive." 
 
 Gabrielle shuddered. 
 
 "You will meet me," and he endeavored to take her 
 hand. But she withdrew it hastily, and with a slight 
 gesture of warning, whispered : 
 
 "The duchess!"
 
 IK FROCK AND COWL. 155 
 
 Madame de Bassompierre had turned and was ap- 
 proaching them. 
 
 Raoul hastily drew his cowl well over his face. 
 
 " Benedicite, holy father," said the duchess, as the 
 apparent monk bowed low before her. " I would pur- 
 chase your prayers not for myself, but," with an effort, 
 " for my son. " 
 
 As she spoke, she drew a purse from a pocket that 
 hung at her girdle and placed it in Raoul' s hands. 
 
 Then taking Gabrielle's arm as if for support, she 
 moved slowly away. 
 
 The chevalier watched the two retreating figures, 
 hoping, but in vain, for one backward glance from the 
 blue eyes he loved so well. 
 
 The purse slipped from his unresisting fingers and 
 fell with a clatter upon the stone step. 
 
 He was startled by a heavy hand falling with a clap 
 upon his back, and Sergeant Goujon's voice rumbled 
 in his ear: 
 
 "Hola! holy father, how long is it since frock and 
 cowl have grown so careless of the good things of this 
 world as to leave a well-filled purse lying idle in the 
 streets?" 
 
 And he stooped and picked up the purse in question, 
 jingling the gold pieces merrily. 
 
 Realizing his danger the chevalier attempted to pass 
 on, but Goujon caught him by his frock. 
 
 " Nay, nay, holy father," he protested, in a chuckling 
 tone. "Why such haste? The hour of matins is past. 
 Let us away to a wine-shop, and spend a gold piece of 
 the duchess' alms upon a good fat capon and a flagon of 
 the best." 
 
 "Such carnal pleasures are not for me, my son," re- 
 turned Raoul, assuming the voice of old age, and at
 
 156 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 the same time disengaging himself from the sergeant's 
 unwelcome clutch. 
 
 But Goujon was not so easily to be gotten rid of. He 
 made another grab at the frock, and demanded with 
 swaggering impertinence: 
 
 "Not for you, most reverend sir; and why not, 
 pray?" 
 
 "Begone!" exclaimed Raoul, impatiently, vainly en- 
 deavoring to pass. 
 
 "What! a monk and refuse good wine!" snickered 
 his tormentor. " A monk and care nothing for a pair 
 of bright eyes and a neat-turned ankle ! You are a dis- 
 grace to beads and breviary ! You are a shame to your 
 order !" 
 
 Raoul shook roughly off the detaining hand upon his 
 shoulder. His anger was rapidly rising, but he man- 
 aged to contain it sufficiently to continue the use of the 
 assumed voice as he said : 
 
 " You miserable rascal ! Let me pass, or " 
 
 "Rascal!" interrupted Goujon, clapping his hand to 
 his sword-hilt with a vast show of bravado, but still 
 with something of the sneak peeping through it all. 
 " Rascal! I am Annibal Goujon, sergeant of the king's 
 musketeers and terror of the Huguenots ! My soldiers 
 know me as the best friend of the grave-diggers! a 
 wader in gore! a blood-drinker! When my sword is 
 out, men turn their backs, and the only thing my enemy 
 refuses to show me is his face!" 
 
 And he plucked at the cowl as if to raise it. The 
 chevalier stepped back, but it was too late. The ser- 
 geant had obtained a glimpse of his face, and recoiled 
 in open-eyed astonishment and fear. 
 
 The chevalier saw the danger, and sought too late 
 to rectify his mistake.
 
 IN FROCK AND COWL. 157 
 
 "Go, go, my son," he said quickly, again simulating 
 the accents of age. "And keep the purse. It may 
 stay thy fingers from cutting one. " 
 
 "Adieu, holy father," snarled Goujon, still keeping a 
 safe distance. " We shall meet again where not even 
 frock and cowl shall protect you. " 
 
 And he strode away, but there was an evil glare of 
 triumph in his little ferret-like eyes, which, had Raoul 
 seen, would have served as a further warning to him. 
 
 As it was, the chevalier was far from being at ease. 
 Did the villain suspect? He feared so; and then there 
 was the reward to quicken his zeal. Five hundred 
 crowns ! Raoul glanced up at the paper affixed to the 
 column. 
 
 "Mordiou!" he thought. "His Majesty of France 
 values the poor Huguenot at a good round sum!" 
 
 " Hist! Monsieur I mean, holy father." 
 
 It was Mirza, the Tzigana. 
 
 " Have you seen her?" she whispered. 
 
 " Yes. I shall go to the water gate in half an hour." 
 
 " I will be there, monsieur, in case of danger, and 
 with those who are determined to avert it. " 
 
 Before Raoul could reply, she was gone. 
 
 He adjusted his gown and prepared to depart for the 
 quay. But, before he could take a step, the square 
 seemed as if by magic to fill with people, and a platoon 
 of soldiers advanced on the run. 
 
 Behind them, puffing and blowing, came Sergeant 
 Goujon. 
 
 Before the chevalier could realize what was about to 
 happen, Goujon had run up the steps of the pillar, and 
 was yelling at the top cf his voice : 
 
 "Comrades! Citizens! And all good Catholics! 
 Seize the heretic!"
 
 158 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 And he pointed at Raoul, who, not three paces away, 
 had paused in alarm and surprise. 
 
 "The monk!" said one of the soldiers. "Your wits 
 are in the wine-pot, sergeant!" 
 
 "The monk is no monk!" shrieked Goujon, striking 
 the proclamation with his fist. " It is Raoul de Puyca 
 dere, the Huguenot! Five hundred crowns! It is 1 
 who have captured him ! Bring him along with you, 
 alive or dead!" 
 
 Raoul saw that further dissimulation was useless. 
 
 " It shall be dead, then !" he cried, flinging off the 
 monk's frock and dashing it to the ground. 
 
 At the same time, he drew the dagger from his belt. 
 His sword he had unfortunately left in Simon Beppa's 
 care. 
 
 The soldiers made a rush forward, but, as they did 
 so, one of the gypsies raised a whistle to his lips and 
 blew a shrill note. Instantly it was answered by a 
 burst of music, and a large band of Bohemians and 
 beggars swept down between the soldiers and their 
 would-be victim. They waved their batons and clashed 
 their tambourines in the faces of Goujon and his com- 
 panions, who were endeavoring to penetrate the mov- 
 ing hedge. 
 
 Raoul saw his opportunity and turned to fly, only to 
 come face to face with Count Lemours. 
 
 The latter recognized the Huguenot at once and flung 
 himself upon him. 
 
 Before Raoul could extricate himself from the un- 
 expected grasp, the soldiers had broken through the 
 ranks of the gypsies. 
 
 In another moment the Huguenot, on whose head 
 there was a price of five hundred crowns, was in the 
 hands of the king's guards.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "l EXACT THE PRICE OF BLOOD." 
 
 THE horror of Mademoiselle de Vrissac at the an- 
 nouncement that her cousin had fallen at the hands of 
 her lover can better be fancied than described. - 
 
 At one fell swoop all her hopes of happiness fell in 
 ruins. Never could she dream of marrying the man 
 who had brought this grievous sorrow upon her and her 
 family. 
 
 And yet she could not thrust Raoul from her heart. 
 She found herself thinking more of him and his danger 
 than of the dead cousin to whom, in spite of his faults, 
 she had been sincerely attached. 
 
 Sudden as had been the growth of the love which had 
 taken possession of her whole being, it was firmly rooted 
 and could not be uptorn. If it were now impossible for 
 her to become the young Gascon's wife, at least she 
 would live and die his widow. 
 
 When Raoul appeared suddenly before her in the 
 guise of the Cordelier monk, she had been too amazed 
 and terrified to collect her senses. But on the way 
 back to the Hotel de Bassompierre, she resolved, in 
 spite of a feeling of disloyalty to the stricken woman, 
 who leaned so heavily upon her, to grant his request. 
 For the last time, he had said. For the last time! 
 
 So, as soon as she could leave the duchess, she hur- 
 ried to the gardens, accompanied by Dame Brigitte, to 
 whom she had given a few hasty words of explanation.
 
 !<Jo A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The old lady was full of forebodings, but she was too 
 devoted to her young mistress and too accustomed to 
 yield to her imperious will to say her nay. 
 
 Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes passed, 
 and still no sign of the chevalier! 
 
 The sun was already low in the heavens, and the 
 trees threw heavy shadows across the somewhat gloomy 
 garden. 
 
 Tortured by anxiety and fear, Gabrielle paced rest- 
 lessly up and down the walk which led from the house 
 to the water-gate. 
 
 Three-quarters of an hour! What had happened? 
 
 At last Dame Brigitte ventured to remonstrate. 
 
 " If the duchess should discover your absence " 
 
 Gabrielle sighed. Yes, it was useless to remain 
 longer. And yet, she would give half her life to know 
 that the chevalier was in safety. 
 
 "You are right, nurse," she said, nervously. "I 
 dare not linger." 
 
 But, before she could make a movement to return to 
 the house, a figure glided from out the shadow of the 
 trees, and confronted her in the rapidly increasing dusk. 
 
 With a low cry, Gabrielle started back. 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, gracious lady," said a woman's 
 voice. " It is only I, Mirza the gypsy." 
 
 On the return of the duchess from church, through 
 an oversight of the servants the gate of the garden had 
 been left open, which gave an opportunity for Mirza, 
 with Pharos and three or four of his companions, to 
 slip in and conceal themselves in order to be in readi- 
 ness should any danger threaten the chevalier. 
 
 They had left the Grande Esplanade of the Louvre 
 before the arrival of the soldiers, and therefore knew 
 nothing of the Huguenot's capture.
 
 "l EXACT THE PRICE OF BLOOD." l6l 
 
 Seeing that the intruder was a woman, Mademoiselle 
 de Vrissac recovered her composure. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" she asked, haughtily. 
 
 Mirza raised her eyes imploringly to the beautiful 
 face which was regarding her with such proud ques- 
 tioning. 
 
 "Oh, mademoiselle," she said, entreatingly, "do not 
 repent of a kindness promised to one who braves even 
 death itself for a few minutes' speech with you." 
 
 " Death ! Ah, what miserable cause could have led 
 Raoul de Puycadere to draw sword in a quarrel that 
 has separated us for ever!" 
 
 The Tzigana hesitated, and then she said sadly and 
 with an effort: 
 
 "Alas! That miserable cause was myself." 
 
 "You!" ejaculated Gabrielle, recoiling, with a pang 
 of jealousy at her heart. 
 
 A bitter smile crossed Mirza's comely features. 
 
 "Yes, I," she said, with an intensity of feeling born 
 of long and unjust persecution of her race. " I, a poor 
 Bohemian, a dancer for money in the public streets 
 the cause was no more than that. But in her sore dis- 
 tress, she claimed his aid; he saw only a woman a 
 woman outraged, helpless, and alone. " 
 
 Gabrielle's heart was touched. Moved by a sudden 
 impulse, she took the gypsy's hand in her own white 
 one, and said with a gentle humility that became her 
 well: 
 
 "Forgive me! He had been less than man had he 
 refused his aid." 
 
 Tears stood in the Tzigana's dark eyes, and from that 
 moment her devotion was given to Gabrielle equally as 
 to the chevalier. She would have died for either of 
 
 them. 
 
 II
 
 l62 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " You have a noble heart, lady," she faltered. " Ah, 
 you can never know what it is to excite passion that 
 is only an insult and love that knows no respect. 
 You " 
 
 But the words were cut short by the sound of ap- 
 proaching footsteps just without the garden wall, and 
 a coarse voice trolling out : 
 
 "With a clink and a clank, 
 With a clink and a clank, 
 Here's more strength to the Catholic flail." 
 
 And in another moment a hand was placed upon the 
 latch of the gate. 
 
 Mirza caught Mademoiselle de Vrissac by the arm. 
 
 "Quick! quick! Retire!" she whispered, excitedly. 
 " It is not the chevalier!" 
 
 Before Gabrielle could recover from her astonish- 
 ment, she was pushed within the shadow of a buttress 
 of the house, where the frightened Dame Brigitte had 
 already taken refuge. 
 
 The movement was only just in time. The gate 
 opened and gave access to Annibal Goujon. 
 
 The worthy sergeant, for a wonder, was compara- 
 tively sober and seemed to be in high glee. 
 
 The Huguenot chevalier was captured at last, and 
 Goujon could hear in anticipation the gold crowns clink- 
 ing in his pocket. 
 
 But this was not all. He had only to manage the 
 duchess properly and his fortune was made. She ought 
 to prove a very Pactolus of wealth. 
 
 As soon as he saw the chevalier safely immured in 
 the Grand Chatelet, Goujon proceeded with all haste to 
 the Hotel de Bassompierre, in order to be th* first to 
 inform the duchess of the fact
 
 "l EXACT THE PRICE OF BLOOD." 163 
 
 He took care to tell no one of his intentions, 
 least of all his boon companions, Griffo and Miron- 
 ton. The mean wretches were too avaricious, he 
 reflected, and would think no more of asking for 
 shares than Goujon himself would of calling for a flask 
 of wine. 
 
 As we have seen, the water gate was open, and the 
 sergeant found no difficulty in entering. 
 
 As he advanced up the path, he caught sight of 
 Mirza, who with petticoat thrown over her head was 
 attempting to avoid his observation. 
 
 " Stop ! Stop !" he cried, hurrying forward as quickly 
 as his bulky form would permit. " Stop a minute while 
 one of the king's officers sees what sort of a dove it is 
 that flies in the darkness." 
 
 Mirza, fearing lest Mademoiselle de Vrissac should 
 be discovered, chose the lesser of the evils and ad- 
 vanced to meet the sergeant. 
 
 " Who are you?" asked the latter. 
 
 "A servant of the house of Bassompierre," replied 
 Mirza, with averted head. 
 
 " Good. So am I at present, its most obedient hum- 
 ble servant. That should make a sympathy between 
 us. By your voice, you are young, and I dare swear 
 not ugly. Why so coy?" 
 
 And he laid his hand upon her shoulder. But, quick 
 as a flash, Mirza threw off his grasp, and turned and 
 faced him. 
 
 As Goujon recognized her, he started back. He had 
 already had one experience with her sharp nails, and 
 had no desire to repeat it. 
 
 "The devil," he muttered, "or the Bohemian! It's 
 the same thing. " 
 
 "Do not stay me, sergeant, let me pass," said Mirza,
 
 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 trying to draw him away, so that Gabriell* could es- 
 cape to the house. 
 
 But Goujon had recovered himself. After all, she 
 was only a woman, and a very pretty one at that. 
 
 "Pass! Nay, my dear, you are my prisoner," he 
 said, and, with a clumsy attempt at gallantry, made * 
 movement to pass his arm about her waist. 
 
 But in a second he recoiled in terror, with a cry of : 
 
 "Ah! you serpent!" 
 
 For Mirza had eluded his grasp and stood before him 
 with a small dagger glittering in her uplifted hand. 
 
 "Beware the serpent's sting!" she threatened, half 
 laughing at the sergeant's dismay. 
 
 "Hola! Hola! within there!" roared Goujon with 
 all the strength of his lungs, his knees shaking with 
 fear. " Within there ! Somebody! Help me to arrest 
 this sorceress ! this witch !" 
 
 It was now the gypsy's turn to be frightened. The 
 coward's cries would arouse the house. And the chev- 
 alier might arrive at any moment. 
 
 "Silence! in mercy's sake, silence!" she entreated. 
 " And go ! Go at once !" 
 
 But Gou jon's sharp eyes discovered her terror, and 
 he regained something of his swaggering courage as 
 her alarm increased. 
 
 " Not till I have you safe under lock and key, as I 
 have already your defender, the Huguenot chevalier!" 
 
 Mirza started. 
 
 "The chevalier! It is false!" she cried. 
 
 "By the corns of Saint Ursula, you'll find it true. 
 He's only a stone's throw from here, safe in the Chate- 
 let prison, and will be most assuredly shot at day- 
 break." 
 A sharp cry broke upon the still air, and Mirza caught
 
 "l EXACT THE PRICE OF BLOOD." 165 
 
 a glimpse of Gabrielle, as she staggered half-fainting 
 from behind the buttress. But, in an instant, a man, 
 with a swift, leopard-like bound, dashed forward and 
 caught her. It was Pharos, and he made a quick ges- 
 ture of assurance to Mirza, as he half led, half carried 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac back into the shadow. 
 
 All this happened so quickly that Goujon, though 
 startled by the cry, had scarcely time to turn. 
 
 He caught only a glimpse of something white, when 
 Mirza grasped him with both hands and whirled him 
 round like a top. 
 
 "You miserable, cowardly, bragging, good-for-noth- 
 ing ruffian!" she exclaimed, breathlessly, as she twisted 
 and twirled him by the collar. " If one hair of the 
 chevalier's head is injured, there shall be as many 
 holes in your wine-cask of a body as there are knives 
 in the girdles of the men and women, especially the 
 women, of my tribe." 
 
 "You're cho cho choking me!" gasped Goujon. 
 
 "Which would be cheating an honest rope-maker," 
 retorted Mirza, scornfully, as she gave him a final twirl 
 and flung him from her with all her strength. 
 
 The sergeant fell heavily to the ground, and at once 
 emitted a series of ear-splitting shrieks. 
 
 The house was now alarmed. Lights flitted from 
 window to window. In another moment, the doors 
 were flung open, and the duchess appeared, surrounded 
 by half a dozen retainers. 
 
 Mirza had fled, but the light o/ the blazing flambeaux 
 fell upon the pitiful figure of the sergeant, who had 
 scrambled to his feet, and, with many a resounding 
 oath, was brushing the dust from his clothes. 
 
 The duchess advanced proudly and fearlessly, fol- 
 lowed by her servants.
 
 1 66 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Who called for help just now?" she demanded. 
 "Was it you, fellow?" 
 
 " If your grace will pardon my insignificance, it was 
 I," replied Goujon, bowing with exaggerated humility. 
 
 " And wherefore?" 
 
 The sight of the burly serving-men had restored the 
 sergeant to all his customary bravado. 
 
 He puffed out his breast and tapped his sword-hilt 
 significantly : 
 
 " Six as truculent ruffians, may it please your grace 
 as well, no matter, I am rid of them. " 
 
 The duchess' lip curled with intense scorn, as she 
 said, haughtily: 
 
 " I think I know your face. You are the man they 
 call Sergeant Goujon one who is noted for having a 
 killing tongue, but a quiet sword. You were one of 
 those who fed upon the too easy bounty of my son, my 
 unfortunate son." 
 
 Even Goujon's overweening vanity was not proof 
 against the cutting severity of these words. But he 
 still managed to keep a bold front, and replied, half 
 brazenly, half sulkily : 
 
 "And therefore I have avenged him." 
 
 "You!" 
 
 " With this hand. His assassin is now in the prison 
 of the Chatelet." 
 
 The duchess uttered a wild cry, a sort of savage lo 
 triumphe ! Instantaneously, her whole manner changed. 
 Her cold hauteur was gone, and in its place was a fran- 
 tic eagerness. 
 
 " Raoul de Puycadere a prisoner! Is it possible?" 
 
 " It was to bring your grace this news that I came 
 here." 
 
 " You are sure?"
 
 "l EXACT THE PRICE OF BLOOD." 167 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 With blazing eyes, the duchess struck her hands to- 
 gether in fierce exultation. 
 
 " More welcome news you could not bring a bereaved 
 mother! In the Chatelet, you say?" 
 
 " In the Chatelet. My errand done, I return now to 
 mount guard over him myself." 
 
 The duchess clutched his arm in a grasp that made 
 him wince. 
 
 " As you value my favor, " she almost hissed in her 
 excitement, her heart bounding with ferocious joy at 
 the thought of vengeance "as you value my favor, 
 guard him closely. You shall be rewarded, well re- 
 warded, never fear. Go! go!" 
 
 His object accomplished, Goujon hurried away, his 
 big sword clanking at his side. 
 
 The duchess turned to the servants. 
 
 "Prepare my litter," she commanded, with a rapid 
 and imperious gesture. " Bring your flambeaux and 
 swords with you! I'll to the Louvre at once!" 
 
 She turned, and was about to enter the house, but 
 before she could make a step, a white-robed figure 
 darted out from the shadows, and throwing itself on its 
 knees before her, seized her gown. 
 
 "Aunt, aunt, you will not do this thing! hear me j 
 I implore you! Have pity!" 
 
 "Pity!" retorted the duchess. "And you speak to 
 me of pity! Raoul de Puycadere is doomed! In defi- 
 ance of my warning, he has remained to outface justice, 
 and he shall pay the penalty. " 
 
 " Madame ! Madame !" 
 
 " The assassin of my son is in the Chatelet ! I want 
 the assassin of my son!" 
 
 "Pity! pity!"
 
 1 68 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " My son does not want your pity ! He calls to me, 
 he cries aloud: 'Mother, avenge me!' " 
 
 "No! no!" 
 
 " Yes, I hear him !" 
 
 "Listen! listen! he does not cry that! No, he does 
 not say to you, 'Blood for blood!' He is in that place 
 where only pardon is recognized for wrong-doing, and 
 where vengeance disappears. He is an angel, and he 
 says to you : 'Mother, honor me as an angel, by charity. '" 
 
 "Away! You plead for your lover! Heaven grant 
 that my son's murderer dies! You shall not filch from 
 me his death !" 
 
 " May Heaven refuse to hear you !" 
 
 " May Heaven hear me, and the king also!" 
 
 And the duchess stooped and, seizing the half -fainting 
 girl by the shoulders, flung her from her. 
 
 " 'Tis a holy vengeance ! 'Tis a mother's vengeance ! 
 The king dare not pardon! It is my son, mine, that 
 this man has slain, and if there be justice in the king, I 
 will exact the price of blood ! To the Louvre ! To the 
 Louvre!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BY GRACE OF GOD, KING OF FRANCE. 
 
 " SHOW yourself a man, my son. A king should have 
 no fears. " 
 
 And Catharine de Medicis, the wily Florentine who 
 had been the cause of so much woe to France by the in- 
 troduction of the infamous methods of her infamous 
 family, laid her hand upon the shoulder of her son, 
 Charles IX., that hand which, beneath its velvet touch, 
 possessed muscles of steel. 
 
 "Fear, mother," said the king, shivering beneath the 
 contact. " It is not that, but I am weary of the sight of 
 blood." 
 
 " From the blood of the heretics only can your throne 
 be cemented." 
 
 "There is no more necessity of that," and the king 
 rose and commenced nervously to pace the floor. 
 "Coligny is dead, and my brother-in-law is a good 
 Catholic." 
 
 " Idiot !" sneered the queen-mother. " Do you be- 
 lieve in that? How long will his recantation last? 
 Just so long as it suits his convenience. Would he 
 were with the other heretics who went to torment on 
 the day of blessed Saint Bartholomew. " 
 
 "Hush! hush!" said the king, turning pale, "n 
 more of that!" 
 
 " The most glorious day of your rei^n. "
 
 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 14 The most infamous. I'll have no more of it. Am 
 I king, or am I not?" 
 
 The lips of Catherine de Medicis curved in a peculiar 
 smile. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you are king," she said, slowly. 
 
 " But you would I were not," ejaculated Charles, im- 
 petuously. "Oh! I know that my brother is your 
 favorite son, and you would gladly see him reign in 
 my place. Well, it is easy to accomplish that. The 
 Italian daggers are still sharp. The Italian poisons are 
 still known to you. " 
 
 The most accomplished actress of her day uttered a 
 deep sigh, her face took on the mask of injured inno- 
 cence, and even a tear twinkled in the corner of her eye. 
 
 A wave of remorse swept over her affectionate if 
 weak son. 
 
 He threw himself at her feet. 
 
 " Forgive me, my mother, forgive me. " 
 
 Queen Catherine raised him and pressed him to her 
 heart. 
 
 " Will you never learn to trust me?" she murmured. 
 " Will you never realize that it is I who hold the crown 
 firmly upon your head?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know; forgive me," half sobbed her son. 
 
 " And no more weakness?" 
 
 " No more. You are my brains, the brains of France. 
 I follow where you direct. " 
 
 "'Tiswell." 
 
 And she touched a silver bell, which rested on a table 
 at her elbow. 
 
 A page answered her summons. 
 
 " The Duchess de Bassompierre awaits. Admit her." 
 
 The page bowed and departed. 
 
 " The Duchess de Bassompierre !" said the king, start-
 
 BY GRACE OF GOD, KING OF FRANCI. 171 
 
 ing up with a look of alarm upon his face. "This 
 means " 
 
 "Wait and see!" 
 
 The time of waiting was not long. In a very few 
 minutes, the duchess was ushered into the royal pres- 
 ence, pale as a ghost in her mourning robes, but her lips 
 compressed in an expression of inexorable resolve. 
 
 She advanced to where the king sat, with the queen- 
 mother behind his chair, and bent her knee before her 
 sovereign. 
 
 "Rise, madame, rise," said Charles graciously; "a 
 De Bassompierre's fidelity to the crown is known with- 
 out empty ceremony. " 
 
 "I thank your Majesty," said the duchess, raising 
 herself to her full height and looking the king directly 
 in the face, " and am glad to hear you accord the Bas- 
 sompierres what is only their due. As a faithful sub- 
 ject of my king, I am here to demand justice. " 
 
 "Justice!" 
 
 " Ay, justice ! My son has been slain. His murderer 
 is in the Chatelet. I ask his head !" 
 
 " In the Chatelet!" repeated the king in great agita- 
 tion. "When was this? I have heard that he had 
 escaped. " 
 
 " For a time only. To-day he was arrested." 
 
 " The Chevalier de Puycadere. " 
 
 " The Chevalier de Puycadere. A Huguenot, a here- 
 tic, a murderer! Justice, sire, justice!" 
 
 " The duchess is right, sire, " said Catherine de Medi- 
 cis, in her clear, cold, unim passioned voice, pressing 
 her hand lightly on the shoulder of her son. " The 
 man is a heretic and a murderer, and should suffer the 
 penalty of his crimes. " 
 
 The king shook off his mother's touch, and, with his
 
 1 72 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 thin white fingers twisting convulsively, half rose from 
 his seat, and then sank back again. 
 
 " My promise, " he murmured weakly. " My promise. " 
 
 "Your promise?" repeated the queen-mother ques- 
 tioningly. 
 
 " Yes : I have given my word to the King of Navarre 
 .hat this man's life should be spared." 
 
 The duchess started violently at these words, but, 
 unseen by the king, Catherine placed her fingers to her 
 lips as a warning for silence. 
 
 "Is that all?" she said, lightly. 
 
 "All?" ejaculated Charles. "Could it be more? Is 
 not a king's word sacred?" 
 
 "Certainly," returned Catherine, with an enigmatical 
 smile. " Unless a king's word is obtained by fraud." 
 
 "What mean you, madame?" 
 
 " Were you not so trusting, you would know that the 
 King of Navarre is even now plotting for your 
 crown. " 
 
 " Mort de ma vie !" 
 
 " It is true, my son, and all see it save you who are 
 most interested. " 
 
 " But " 
 
 The words died on his lips, as a portiere just opposite 
 to where he was seated was raised, and the graceful 
 form of his sister, Marguerite, appeared. 
 
 "Am I intruding?" she asked, as her eyes fell in 
 wonder upon the stern face of the duchess. 
 
 "No, no. Come in, Margot," said the king, glad of 
 almost any interruption. "Your advent is timely." 
 
 " Most timely," said Catherine de Medicis, bending a 
 penetrating glance upon her daughter. " Marguerite 
 is ever on the side of justice." 
 
 "Surely, my mother," replied the Queen of Navarre,
 
 BY GRACE OF GOD, KING OF FRANCE. 173 
 
 advancing into the room, with a puzzled look upon her 
 lovely, face. 
 
 Before Catherine could check her, the duchess had 
 hastily stepped forward and extended her hands in 
 supplication. 
 
 " Then you will use your influence with the king, " 
 she cried, " to grant my petition. " 
 
 "Your petition?" said Marguerite, understanding the 
 situation of affairs pretty clearly. 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty. I am here to ask the punish- 
 ment of my son's murderer." 
 
 " Murderer ! It was a fair duel, madame. " 
 
 "A fair duel!" cried the duchess. "A duel with a 
 boy like that!" 
 
 " The King of Navarre is satisfied that the Chevalier 
 de Puycadere was not to blame, or he would not have 
 asked the king's clemency." 
 
 "And I? Have I no rights?" began the duchess pas- 
 sionately, but the queen-mother laid a restraining hand 
 upon her arm. 
 
 "Be patient! Leave it to me," she said, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 Then, turning to the king, who was the picture of 
 uneasiness, she remarked quietly : 
 
 " Your Majesty will not refuse this distressed mother 
 the just punishment she exacts." 
 
 Before the king could reply, Marguerite de Valois, 
 who, whatever her faults might be, was ever loyal to 
 her friends, and who was thinking now of her favorite 
 maid of honor, interposed : 
 
 " My brother has given his royal word to my husband 
 that the life of Monsieur de Puycadere should be spared. " 
 
 The queen-mother bit her thin lips with rage. 
 
 "Your husband," she said, addressing Marguerite
 
 174 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 with intense sarcasm. "Yes, in marrying you the 
 Prince of Be*arn fulfilled one of those acts of policy de- 
 manded for the interest of the kingdom, but, my poor 
 child, the indifference he has manifested for one so 
 young, so lovely, and so fascinating as yourself should 
 scarce, methinks, be the spur to rouse you to become 
 his champion." 
 
 Marguerite flushed beneath these words and the keen 
 glance which accompanied them, but not for one instant 
 did she lower her eyes. 
 
 "I have promised the King of Navarre my alliance," 
 she said proudly and unflinchingly, " and I will be faith- 
 ful to my promise. My brother, I appeal to you to 
 keep yours." 
 
 Charles sat as if stupefied between the imperative 
 look of Catherine and the supplicating regard of Mar- 
 guerite; while the Duchess de Bassompierre watched 
 the trio with haggard eyes and parted lips, her one 
 thought "Vengeance!" 
 
 But the struggle was unequal, and no one knew it 
 better than the wily queen-mother. 
 
 " You do well to recognize that your brother is still 
 King of France," she said sternly to her daughter. 
 " Your husband is not king yet, and Charles IX. owes 
 no faith to heretics and traitors. No more of this!" 
 And she checked with a commanding gesture the pas- 
 sionate retort that rose to Marguerite's lips. 
 
 Then, stooping, she whispered a few hurried words 
 in the king's ear. 
 
 A spasm of terror swept across Charles' face. 
 
 "No, no, madame," he gasped, and he caught fever- 
 ishly at his mother's hand. "No, no! Don't desert 
 me! Anything but that! I am indeed lost without 
 yon,"
 
 BY GRACE OF GOD, KING OF FRANCE. 175 
 
 A smile of satisfaction played for a moment about 
 Catherine's cruel lips. 
 
 "Then you will do your duty?" she asked calmly, 
 knowing that the victory was won. 
 
 " Act without me! Do as you please!" was the weak 
 and weary response. 
 
 " And you will not interfere?" 
 
 "No! no!" 
 
 " On your kingly honor?" 
 
 " On my kingly honor. " And there was just a touch 
 of self-contempt in the words. 
 
 "You hear, your grace," said Catharine, addressing 
 the duchess. " Your plea is granted. Your son's mur- 
 derer dies at daybreak. " 
 
 A low cry of fierce delight broke from Madame de 
 Bassompierre. She kissed the hands of the king and 
 the queen-mother, and, after a low reverence to the 
 Queen of Navarre, staggered rather than walked from 
 the apartment, as one drunken with joy. 
 
 After a commanding glance at her son, and a whis- 
 pered " Remember!" Catherine followed her. 
 
 Sad and sorrowful, Marguerite would have done the 
 same, but a low " Margot !" brought her back to the 
 king's side. 
 
 There was no anger, but only pity in the look she 
 fixed upon her brother's face. 
 
 Charles caught her hand, and raised his eyes with 
 abject pleading, as if ashamed of his weakness. 
 
 "Forgive me! forgive me!" he murmured. And 
 then added, with a short laugh : " By the grace of God, 
 King of France! No! By the grace of our mother, 
 Margot, by the grace of our mother!"
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BENEATH THE SHADOW OF THE AXE. 
 
 THE reflections of Raoul de Puycadere were anything 
 but agreeable, as he lay immured in one of the dun- 
 geons of the Grand Chatelet. 
 
 But a short week ago, he had been possessed of all 
 the dearest wishes of his heart an honorable post with 
 the master he most wished to serve, and the accepted 
 lover of the sweetest and fairest girl in France. 
 
 And now with no power to fulfil the commands of 
 his king, alienated from the lady of his heart, a prisoner 
 with no possibility of escape, and condemned to die by 
 the axe of the headsman. 
 
 The chevalier was no coward, but he was young and 
 life was sweet to him. 
 
 He cursed the foolhardy actions which had led him 
 to this point of disaster. Had he but followed the good 
 physician's advice, he would have remained concealed 
 at the Green Dragon until it had been time for him to 
 start on his mission. Then the encounter with the duke 
 would have been avoided, the young man would still be 
 alive, there would be no cloud of blood between him- 
 self and Gabrielle, and all would be well. 
 
 With a muttered exclamation of mingled disgust at 
 himself and despair at his situation, he rose from the 
 pallet of straw on which he had flung himself, and, 
 pushing a wooden stool beneath the window, mounted 
 it and looked out between the iron bars.
 
 BENEATH THE SHADOW OF THE AXK. 177 
 
 The cell in which he was confined was in one of the 
 towers of the Chatelet. About ten feet below the win- 
 dow was a broad platform, with a parapet some two 
 feet high. Beyond the parapet was a sheer descent of 
 at least a hundred feet to the river which lay shimmer- 
 ing in the moonlight, spanned by its dozen of bridges. 
 A little below Raoul could see the lights of the city and 
 the towers of Notre Dame standing like twin sentinels 
 on guard over the capital of France. 
 
 Oh, if he were but yonder, with his trusty sword in 
 his hand! Why had he allowed himself to be taken 
 thus by surprise and without striking one blow in self- 
 defence? 
 
 To die upon the battle-field or in fair encounter with 
 a worthy foe would have been a glorious death. But 
 abjectly, miserably, disgracefully, in the very flower of 
 his youth, with all the world before him, beneath the 
 shameful axe of a paid headsman ! Oh! it was horrible ! 
 
 And in impotent rage, Raoul shook the iron bars 
 which stood between him and freedom. 
 
 And then before him rose the vision of her to whom 
 his whole heart had gone out, as he had seen her that 
 night at the Louvre with her lovely eyes looking that 
 love into his which her sweet lips so tremblingly con- 
 fessed. 
 
 Ah, death would not be so hard, if he could but once 
 hold her close in his longing arms, but once more hear 
 her voice murmur his name. 
 
 And bending his head upon his clasped hands, his 
 frame shook in a tearless, voiceless sob. 
 
 But even then, could he have known it, friends were 
 near, faithful friends who had vowed to risk life and 
 limb in his rescue. 
 
 Not twenty feet away from him on the platform below 
 
 12
 
 1 7! A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 stood one of them. He could have seen her in the 
 moonlight had he chanced to turn his eyes in that 
 direction. 
 
 Still, in the yellow-haired buxom country girl, who, 
 with basket on her arm, was coquetting with the senti- 
 nel, the chevalier would scarcely have recognized the 
 lithe, brown-skinned Tzigana. 
 
 And yet Mirza was there, led by that gratitude 
 which in people of her blood amounts to an absolute 
 passion. 
 
 Her dark hair covered by a flaxen wig, her complex- 
 ion skilfully whitened and her slender figure padded to 
 somewhat robust proportions, she looked to perfection 
 the part she was playing that of a simple peasant girl 
 who had come to Paris to dispose of the products of her 
 little farm. 
 
 And, with nerves strung to the utmost tension, know- 
 ing that the stake was the life of the man who had 
 befriended her in her hour of need, she was playing her 
 part as well as she looked it. 
 
 Certainly Griffo, the soldier on guard, had no sus- 
 picion that he had ever before seen her face, and noth- 
 ing was further from his thoughts than connecting her 
 with that wild-bird, Mirza. 
 
 Leaning carelessly against the parapet, with his ar- 
 quebuse between his knees, he was by no means averse 
 to whiling away a few minutes of his watch by making 
 love to the innocent-appearing country girl, who, by her 
 own story, had wandered up on the platform in search 
 of her brother. 
 
 "Lost your brother!" said Griffo, good-humoredly, 
 in his not unmusical Italian accent. " By hilt and point ! 
 as the sergeant says, if a pretty face counts for anything, 
 your brother's far- more likely to lose you."
 
 BENEATH THE SHADOW OF THE AXE. 179 
 
 The disguised Tzigana dropped an awkward curtsey, 
 and replied with much rustic simplicity of manner: 
 
 " He went into the guard-room to get paid for his 
 eggs and fowls, and told me not to move until he came 
 back." 
 
 Griffo laughed. 
 
 " And of course immediately his back was turned you 
 climbed the stairs and took a stroll on the battlements. 
 It's against orders, my dear, clean against orders, and, 
 by my faith ! perhaps it is my duty to lock you up. " 
 
 Mirza dropped her basket and clasped her hands in 
 well-feigned affectation of dismay. 
 
 " Lock me up?" 
 
 " Oh, well, perhaps I can let you go this time, " said 
 Griffo, with another laugh. " It's not pleasant to be 
 confined in a cell, as that fellow behind the bars yonder 
 would undoubtedly tell you. " 
 
 "What bars?" 
 
 " Turn your pretty eyes to the tower on our right 
 Do you see them?" 
 
 " Yes. " And she lowered her voice, as if half fearful 
 at the bare idea. " Is there a prisoner there?" 
 
 " Yes, and one not likely to come out, except to go 
 to his death." 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" chuckled the soldier, pinching her 
 cheek. " So you have your share of your sex's curi- 
 osity. Well, there's no harm in satisfying you. It's a 
 heretic, who killed a great nobleman, the Duke de Bas- 
 sompierre. He dies to-morrow." 
 
 "Dies!" 
 
 "Peste! It's only a Huguenot. But let's talk no 
 more of him. You're here against orders, and will 
 have to pay the fine, "
 
 igo A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "What fine?" asked Mirza, who had been gazing up 
 at the window indicated by Griffo and fancied that she 
 saw a white face there reflected in the moonlight. 
 
 "A kiss," replied Griffo, with what he flattered him- 
 self was a killing smile and one well calculated to win 
 the good graces of the rustic beauty. 
 
 But as he laid his arquebuse aside, leaning it against 
 the parapet, and advanced a step to claim the penalty, 
 the seeming country maiden sprang back with a coy- 
 ness that only served to inflame the soldier's desire. 
 
 "Nay, nay," she said, "the fines are too heavy. Be- 
 sides, I know the regulations. All fines are to be paid 
 to the officer in command, and not to the sentinel. 
 But," with a merry laugh, " I've a flask of wine in my 
 basket, a gift from the sacristan of Saint Bernardine's. 
 Taste it." 
 
 As she spoke, she pointed to the basket which lay 
 just under the parapet. 
 
 At this, Griffo, whose thirst for good liquor was only 
 second to the redoubtable sergeant's himself, was quite 
 consoled for the loss of the expected kiss, which, how- 
 ever, he promised himself should only be momentary. 
 
 "I will," he said, with eager assent. " In default of 
 the lips of a woman, commend me to the mouth of a 
 bottle." 
 
 As he stooped to take the flask, quick as lightning 
 Mirza drew a small packet from the bosom of her bod- 
 ice, and, sending it with unerring aim, flung it through 
 the iron bars of the tower window. 
 
 It flew past Raoul, narrowly escaping his head, and 
 fell with a rattle on the stone floor of the cell. 
 
 Roused thus suddenly from his sad revery, the chev- 
 alier jumped from the stool to see what was the missile 
 that had been hurled thus unceremoniously at him.
 
 BENEATH THE SHADOW OF THE AXE. l8l 
 
 At first, he fancied he had been shot at, but in an- 
 other moment his eye rested upon the packet. 
 
 Picking it up, he saw that it was a slip of paper 
 wrapped about a stone. He unrolled it hastily, and, 
 taking it to the smoky lantern which illumined with its 
 faint light his gloomy place of imprisonment, he per- 
 ceived that there was writing upon the paper. 
 
 Holding it close to the lantern, he succeeded in de- 
 ciphering the following words: 
 
 " Friends are near. A sure plan is laid for your escape. 
 Hold yourself in readiness. " 
 
 In an instant his whole mood changed. What! 
 There was a chance for him still ! 
 
 He dragged the stool to the table, and eagerly scruti- 
 nized the handwriting. No, it was unknown to him. 
 But friends, friends were near ! 
 
 Meanwhile, Griffo had drawn the bottle from the 
 basket and uncorked it. Raising it to his mouth, he 
 took a long draught. 
 
 "Nectar! Veritable nectar!" he declared, half clos- 
 ing his eyes in ecstacy and smacking his lips with 
 gusto. " And yet the pestilent heretics say that the holy 
 fathers do not live well. By the way, what is the name 
 of your father, my dear?" 
 
 Mirza, who was rejoicing over the success of the first 
 step in the scheme for the liberation of the chevalier, 
 which had been so carefully planned out by herself and 
 the other members of her tribe, answered demurely : 
 
 " My father? Oh, his name is Valpin, and he is the 
 miller of Montmartre." 
 
 "Valpin," repeated the sentinel, with another pull at 
 the bottle. "A worthy man and a good Catholic, I 
 doubt me not. I drink to his health. And what is 
 your name, my pretty wild-flower?"
 
 l8a A O1NTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Babette," replied Mirza, drawing a white handker- 
 chief from her belt, and passing it twice across her lips. 
 
 As if in answer to a signal, which indeed it was, a 
 figure stole softly from the stairway and crossed the 
 platform with catlike step, close to the parapet, just be- 
 hind where Mirza and the sentinel were standing. 
 
 It was an odd-looking figure, a youth with tangled 
 red hair, in ill-fitting peasant's dress of dark blouse 
 and full, baggy breeches. 
 
 His progress was so noiseless that Griffo, engrossed 
 with the bottle and the captivating yellow-haired girl, 
 heard not a sound. 
 
 "Babette," said the sentinel, far more neglectful of 
 his duty than he imagined. " Babette! 'Tis a beauti- 
 ful name. Your health, Babette!" he continued un- 
 steadily, too unsteadily considering the amount of wine 
 he had drunk (if indeed the flask did not contain some 
 drug much more potent than the mere juice of the 
 grape). "Your health, Babette! And your brother? 
 What do you call him?" 
 
 " Pierre," replied the girl, who, with her heart in her 
 mouth, was watching out of the corner of her eye the 
 fiery-headed intruder as he crawled with velvet step 
 closer and closer to the tower with its barred window. 
 
 "I drink to Pierre! I drink to all your family," de- 
 clared Griffo, gallantly, suiting the action to the word. 
 
 The man in the peasant's dress had reached the tower, 
 and as the sentinel raised the bottle to his lips, he laid 
 his hand on the rough stone- work, and with the agility 
 of a cat, clinging to the projections, he clambered up 
 the ten feet of wall between him and the window, and 
 finally clung to the iron bars, resembling in the moon- 
 light some enormous bat with folded wings. 
 
 ** Your brother's a long time coming, my pretty Ba-
 
 BENEATH THE SHADOW OF THE AXE. 183 
 
 bette," muttered Griffo, with a maudlin look of what 
 was meant to be tenderness (surely it was wonderful 
 how quickly the wine had taken effect). "But the 
 longer the better. You won't drink, my dear. That's 
 not sociable. " 
 
 " No, but I'll do something better than that," replied 
 the pretended Babette, with an arch glance, which con- 
 vinced the soldier that he had made a conquest. 
 
 "What can be better?" he asked, with a leer. "A 
 kiss?" 
 
 "No, no, that may come afterward," she laughed, 
 warding him off with a gesture which was far more 
 alluring than repellant. " But I'll sing, if you'll join 
 in the chorus. " 
 
 " A song in praise of love?" 
 
 " No, in praise of the next best thing of wine. " 
 
 "By the mass! you're right, and you're a damsel of 
 wit as well as of beauty. Pipe up, and I'll join in.'* 
 
 Mirza took him by the arm and by imperceptible 
 steps led him farther away from the tower, as she broke 
 into a rollicking drinking-song : 
 
 "Then fill, fill, oh fill! 
 Let the can, let the can go round." 
 
 Who can blame her if her voice was a little unsteady? 
 The critical moment had come, and there was so much 
 at stake. However, Griffo noticed nothing. He was 
 too intoxicated with the wine of the good fathers and 
 the brightness of the girl's eyes. 
 
 Raoul was still studying the mysterious writing, 
 when he was startled from its contemplation by a low- 
 murmured : 
 
 "Hist! hist! Monsieur!" 
 
 Starting to his feet and turning to the window whence
 
 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 the sound proceeded, he saw to his amazement a face 
 pressed close against the bars. 
 
 " Not a word above your breath!" came the warning 
 in the lowest of tones. " The sentinel is only two paces 
 from here." 
 
 " Who are you?" breathed the chevalier, scarce dar- 
 ing to believe his eyes. 
 
 " Pharos, the gypsy." 
 
 "Pharos!" 
 
 "Yes. And Mirza is below. Have courage, Mon- 
 sieur le Chevalier, and you are free!" 
 
 Free! Raoul's heart bounded in his breast. The 
 letter then was from Mirza, and action had followed 
 close upon it. 
 
 Without more words the Bohemian drew a file from his 
 pocket, and, the noise concealed by Mirza's singing, pro- 
 ceeded, with skilful celerity, to cut through the iron bars. 
 
 Raoul watched him in breathless silence. 
 
 "Then fill, fill, oh fill! 
 Let the can, let the can go round." 
 
 Mirza's clear voice rang out on the still night air, 
 accompanied by an occasional gruff note from the en- 
 amoured sentinel. 
 
 Raoul wondered idly if he would ever forget that 
 melody. 
 
 At last the task was accomplished. The bars, severed 
 at top and bottom, were removed and thrown noise- 
 lessly upon the prisoner's pallet. 
 
 In another moment, the Bohemian sprang lightly 
 through the opening into the cell. 
 
 Mirza's voice for an instant broke, and then pealed 
 forth again triumphantly. The trite drinking-song 
 sounded like a hymn of victory.
 
 BENEATH THE SHAOW OF THE AXE. 185 
 
 "Haste, monsieur, haste!" exclaimed Pharos, speak- 
 ing with rapid entreaty. " Through that window lies 
 your only chance. Mirza will distract the sentinel's 
 attention as you descend upon the platform. From the 
 platform, you can gain by a ladder the roof of the other 
 tower which overhangs the river. Attach this rope," 
 and he quickly unwound a long coil from about his 
 waist " attach this rope to the iron flagstaff, and the 
 descent is easy. You have no weapon here is my 
 poniard, one that has seen service. Do not pause to 
 question. Every moment of delay breeds a fresh 
 danger. " 
 
 "But you!" said Raoul, hesitating in spite of the 
 other's importunity. " I cannot leave you here." 
 
 " Bah ! You need not fear for me, monsieur, " re- 
 plied the gypsy, with a short laugh of careless confi- 
 dence. "The stone walls are not yet built that can 
 keep Pharos long a prisoner. Think only of yourself. 
 On the opposite side of the river, just against the further 
 tower of Notre Dame, you will see a light, the light of 
 a torch. Make for it. There you will find Ismael and 
 others of my tribe, who will bring you to a place of 
 safety. Why do you still hesitate? Would you not 
 live?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," rejoined Raoul with a sudden feverish 
 haste. "Yes, my brave Pharos, I would live!" 
 
 He seized the rope from the gypsy's hands and wound 
 it hurriedly about him, thinking as he did so: 
 
 *' Ay, I would live, if only to say farewell to her. " 
 
 " Up with you, then !" cried Pharos, in evident satis- 
 faction. " You have already delayed too long, but it is 
 a chance and the only one. " 
 
 Yes, he had delayed too long ; for just as the gypsy 
 seized the chevalier's arm to assist him to mount to the
 
 1 86 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 window, the sound of heavy footsteps was heard just 
 without the door of the cell, and a coarse voice trolled 
 forth: 
 
 "With a clink and a clank, 
 With a clink and a clank, 
 Here's more strength to the Catholic flail !" 
 
 The chevalier and Pharos recoiled, and contemplated 
 each other in blank consternation. 
 
 In an instant, however, the gypsy had recovered his 
 self -composure. 
 
 "It's that bragging rascal, Goujon," he said, in a 
 hoarse whisper. "Quick, monsieur, place yourself 
 there. " 
 
 And he pushed Raoul behind the door, so that he 
 would be hidden by it when it should be opened. 
 
 The key was already grating in the lock. 
 
 For Pharos to seize the blanket, wrap himself in it, 
 and throw himself upon the pallet as if asleep, was the 
 work of but a moment. 
 
 But he was none too soon. 
 
 Scarcely was he in position than the heavy door 
 swung inward, and Sergeant Goujon swaggered across 
 the threshold. 
 
 He cast his little red eyes about the cell, until they 
 rested upon the figure reclining on the bed. 
 
 "By the beard of Saint Bridget!" he grunted, half 
 aloud. "He sleeps! Sleeps as if there were no to- 
 morrow and no Annibal Goujon." 
 
 Then, crossing the dimly lighted room, he approached 
 the wretched pallet, and laid his hand roughly upon the 
 shoulder of the supposed Huguenot. 
 
 "Hola! my gentleman, arouse thee!" he bellowed. 
 "I bring you news! His Majesty is graciously pleased 
 to shorten your suspense by some hours, and you are
 
 BENEATH THE SHADOW OF THE AX1. 187 
 
 to be executed to-morrow at daybreak. To-morrow! 
 Arouse yourself! Arouse!" with another vigorous 
 shake. " Awake, I say ! It is I, Annibal Goujon, the 
 terror of " 
 
 But just here a strange transformation took place. 
 
 The gypsy, flinging off the blanket, started up into a 
 sitting posture, and confronted the terrible sergeant 
 with a cocked pistol, held not two inches from his fiery 
 nose. 
 
 With a howl of fear, Goujon fell heavily to his knees, 
 and held up his hands in an attitude of supplication. 
 
 At the same instant Raoul sprang forward, and using 
 the bent back of the trembling coward as a step, leaped 
 on to the window-sill, and from there dropped lightly 
 to the floor of the platform. 
 
 With a thrill of excitement, Mirza saw the action. 
 
 "Look! look!" she cried to Griffo. "What is that 
 light on the opposite bank !" 
 
 The soldier turned, and at the same instant the 
 Tzigana snatched up the half-empty flask, and poured 
 the remainder of the contents over the lock of the 
 arquebuse, which rested against the parapet. 
 
 Meanwhile the chevalier had stolen like a ghost 
 across the platform and was mounting the iron ladder 
 which led to the roof of the other tower. 
 
 " I see no light," said Griffo, shading his eyes with 
 his hand. 
 
 "You are not looking in the right direction," ex- 
 claimed Mirza, seizing his arm and twisting him about. 
 "Over there! near the Pont des Arts." 
 
 The fugitive had reached the top of the tower. To 
 unwind the rope from his waist and attach it to the 
 flagstaff was the work of but a moment. Then grasp- 
 ing the rope, he commenced the descent, hand over
 
 l88 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 hand, warding off with his feet the rough projections of 
 the stonework. 
 
 "Peste! There is no light!" said Griffo, wheeling 
 suddenly, before Mirza could divine his attention. 
 
 The first thing his eyes fell upon was the swaying 
 figure of the chevalier, now nearly on a level with the 
 parapet and distinctly visible in the moonlight. 
 
 "The Huguenot! The Huguenot!" he yelled, and, 
 snatching up his arquebuse, he levelled it at the escap- 
 ing prisoner. 
 
 But, thanks to Mirza's foresight, the piece flashed in 
 the pan. 
 
 Dashing down the worthless weapon with a furious 
 imprecation, Griffo pushed the gypsy girl roughly aside, 
 and rushed toward the rope which connected with the 
 alarm bell. 
 
 Clang! clang! clang! crashed out the brazen notes. 
 
 Splash! Raoul had dropped into the river. And 
 before the soldiers, who came flying out of the guard- 
 room, could ascertain what was the matter, he had 
 struck out lustily for the opposite shore.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BY ROYAL COMMAND. 
 
 KAOUL realized that it was to be a swim for life, and, 
 although impeded by his clothes, he exerted all the 
 strength of his muscular arms. 
 
 The garrison was aroused he knew that by the 
 alarm bell but the river was not wide at this part, and 
 could he but reach the other side, it would go hard with 
 him if he did not manage to elude his pursuers, before 
 they would have time to cross by one of the bridges. 
 
 Zip! a bullet whizzed passed him and struck the 
 water just beyond, dashing showers of spray into his 
 eyes. 
 
 Instantly he dived beneath the surface and came up 
 breathless some ten feet beyond. 
 
 Half a dozen strokes, and he dragged himself, ex- 
 hausted, out of the water on to the quay. 
 
 So far, so good! Giving himself a hasty shake, he 
 started hurriedly down the street. 
 
 All was quiet, and no one was in sight. 
 
 What had Pharos said? Just opposite the towers of 
 Notre Dame! 
 
 This must be the place. But where was the prom- 
 ised aid? 
 
 There was no time to lose. He would surely be fol- 
 lowed, and in five minutes at the most the soldiers 
 would come speeding across the Pont des Arts.
 
 190 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 He glanced across the river. Yes, in less time than 
 that! Torches were already flashing hurriedly along 
 the water-side. 
 
 But just at that moment a man darted out from an 
 alley-way and seized his arm. 
 
 " Have no fear," he said, as the chevalier started back 
 in alarm. "It is I, monsieur, Ismael the Bohemian. 
 Quick! quick! There is no time to lose!" 
 
 And he flung a dilapidated cloak over the Gascon's 
 wet garments, and thrust a ragged hat into his hand, 
 bidding him to pull it down well over his face. 
 
 "Now, follow me!" 
 
 The Bohemian plunged back into the dark passage- 
 way from which he had emerged, and Raoul hurried 
 after him, keeping close upon his footsteps. 
 
 Twisting and turning they went on at a rapid pace, 
 the gypsy evidently well acquainted with the way, for 
 he never hesitated for an instant. 
 
 "Courage, monsieur," he said at last, looking back 
 over his shoulder. " We are almost there. " 
 
 Hardly were the words out of his mouth, when a loud 
 "Halt! Who goes there?" brought them both to a 
 standstill. 
 
 Raoul clapped his hands to the dagger Pharos had 
 given him and drew it from his belt. 
 
 " For the love of heaven, monsieur, put back that 
 weapon!" said the gypsy, in a quick whisper. "It is 
 the watch!" 
 
 But " 
 
 "Hush! Leave it tome! I answer for your safety 
 on my life!" 
 
 The chevalier knew that his guide was faithful, and 
 yet it was with great reluctance that he returned the 
 dagger to his belt
 
 BY ROYAL COMMAND. 101 
 
 The watch was now close upon them, a captain and 
 four men. 
 
 " What are you doing abroad at this time of night?" 
 demanded the captain. 
 
 "We are on special service," replied Ismael, coolly. 
 
 " On special service," repeated the captain, scornfully 
 eyeing the two ragged figures before him. " And on 
 whose, pray?" 
 
 For answer, the gypsy drew a paper from the breast 
 of his blouse and handed it to his interlocutor. 
 
 Taking it to the light of a lantern which was hung 
 across the corner of the street, the captain of the watch 
 unfolded the paper and read what was written thereon. 
 
 " Pass the bearer and his companion without delay or 
 question, but not outside of Paris. CAROLUS REX. " 
 
 It was with a very different manner that the captain 
 now addressed the two men, whom he had been on the 
 point of arresting. 
 
 He returned the paper to Ismael with the utmost 
 deference. 
 
 "Pass, gentlemen," he said, "and pardon me for de- 
 taining you, but in these times it behooves a king's 
 officer to use every precaution." 
 
 " You have only done your duty. We have no com- 
 plaint to make," returned Ismael, calmly. "Good- 
 night, officer." 
 
 " Good-night, gentlemen. May the saints speed you !" 
 
 And the officer drew aside to allow the gypsy and his 
 companion to pass. 
 
 Ismael raised his hat with courtesy and strode for- 
 ward, followed by Raoul, greatly puzzled at the easy 
 manner in which his guide had solved the difficulty. 
 
 For five minutes they moved ahead in silence, and
 
 192 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONV. 
 
 then the gypsy turned into a garden, surrounded by a 
 crumbling wall. 
 
 "Step carefully, monsieur," he said, and the warning 
 was needed, for the pathway was overgrown with weeds 
 and littered with rubbish. 
 
 A few minutes' walk brought them to what seemed 
 to be an unfinished house. 
 
 The gypsy descended a step or two to a door leading 
 to the basement. 
 
 He rapped once and then twice, with a quick staccato 
 movement. 
 
 " No one is here. They are late," he said, and draw- 
 ing a key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and 
 threw it open. 
 
 " Enter, monsieur, " he said. " This is a sure asylum. " 
 
 Raoul obeyed and found himself in pitchy darkness. 
 But only for a moment. Ismael produced flint and 
 steel, and soon two candles were lighted, emitting a 
 feeble light. 
 
 The chevalier looked around him in bewilderment. 
 
 It was a poor place enough a sort of cellar, roughly 
 furnished with a deal table and half a dozen rudely 
 constructed chairs. 
 
 The gypsy went to a cupboard and brought forth 
 bread, cheese, and a bottle of wine. 
 
 " Eat," he said. " You must be faint." 
 
 De Puycadere was only too glad to comply, but his 
 curiosity was excited as to how the Bohemian had man- 
 aged to pass the watch, and, as he ate, he interrogated 
 him on the point. 
 
 Ismael smiled. 
 
 "It was very easy. There was nothing miraculous 
 about it," he said. " Monsieur le Chevalier has friends 
 in high places as well as in low. Before attempting
 
 BY ROYAL COMMAND. 193 
 
 your rescue, Pharos consulted the landlord of the Green 
 Dragon, who went to Master Pare, rhe king's physician, 
 and through him a pass was obtained from his Majesty. 
 It might not have been necessary, but it is well to be 
 prepared on all points. The paper I showed the cap 
 tain of the guard was that pass. " 
 
 Raoul stretched forth his hand and grasped that of 
 the Bohemian. 
 
 " How can I ever thank you?" he said. 
 
 "The indebtedness is still on our side, " responded 
 Ismael, simply. " The children of Egypt are one, and 
 you saved Mirza." 
 
 After Raoul had eaten and drunk sufficient to refresh 
 his jaded condition, he stretched his arms with a long 
 yawn and said : 
 
 " My good friend, I have a lengthy journey before 
 me to-morrow, and it would be well if I sought some 
 rest. " 
 
 But the gypsy made a gesture of negation. 
 
 "Not yet, monsieur," he protested. "Monsieur may 
 have a visitor to-night, whom he would be sorry to 
 miss." 
 
 "A visitor!" ejaculated the chevalier in surprise. 
 
 But, before he could ask any questions, a low tap re- 
 sounded from the door, followed by two more in rapid 
 succession. 
 
 Ismael unbarred the door, to admit Mirza, flushed 
 and breathless, still in the disguise of the peasant. 
 
 As she caught sight of the chevalier, she uttered an 
 exclamation of joy. 
 
 "Thank heaven, you are safe!" 
 
 "Yes, and it is your work," said Raoul, rising from 
 the table and bowing before her with as much reverence 
 as he would have shown the Queen of Navarre herself.
 
 194 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "No. I could have done nothing without Pharos," 
 replied Mirza, modestly, as, with a gesture of im- 
 patience, she flung off the flaxen wig. 
 
 " And Pharos?" 
 
 "Pharos!" with a confident laugh. "Trust Pharos 
 to take care of himself. " 
 
 "Mirza," said Raoul, approaching nearer and speak- 
 ing in a low tone. " Did you go to the Hotel de Bas- 
 sompierre to-day?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And Mademoiselle de Vrissac?" 
 
 The Tzigana smiled, looking up at Raoul with eyes 
 full of meaning. 
 
 "Oh! I saw her too. She kept the rendezvous. 
 There will be at least one happy heart in Paris when 
 your escape is known. " 
 
 The chevalier's face absolutely sparkled with renewed 
 hope. 
 
 Ah! what a happy time is youth! How little it 
 takes when one is young to turn despair into joy! 
 Youth is well named the spring-time of life. It no 
 more fears the future, than the blade of grass which 
 pushes forth its first feeble shoot in a field devastated 
 by winter doubts Mother Nature. 
 
 " What did she say? What did " 
 
 But again the chevalier was interrupted, as the same 
 signal was repeated upon the door. 
 
 "Chut! monsieur," whispered Ismael. "These must 
 be the visitors I spoke of." 
 
 The door being opened gave entrance to two men 
 wrapped in long, dark mantles and their faces covered 
 with masks. 
 
 The taller of the two advanced to Raoul, who was 
 in doubt whether this was a fresh cause for alarm or
 
 BY ROYAL COMMAND. 
 
 '95 
 
 not, and removed his vizard, exhibiting the eagle-like 
 features of the King of Navarre. 
 
 "Your Majesty! Here!" exclaimed the chevalier in 
 amazement, sinking upon one knee before his sovereign. 
 
 " Rise ! rise !" commanded Henri, impatiently. " This 
 is no time for folly of that sort. The times are too 
 perilous. Leave ceremony for the court, where it is 
 only valuable to keep fools at a distance. " 
 
 Raoul, still bewildered, rose to his feet. "Well, 
 young sir," continued the king, eyeing him with a 
 glance which combined both pity and scrutiny, " have 
 the last few days destroyed your spirit, or are you still 
 ready to be my messenger to the Governor of La 
 Rochelle?" 
 
 " I am ever ready to do your Majesty service," replied 
 Raoul. 
 
 "Then you will start two hours before daybreak. 
 Your friend here," indicating Ismael, who with Mirza 
 had withdrawn to the farthest corner, abashed at the 
 presence of royalty, " will bring your horse to this place. 
 Here is a pass, and hard work had I to wring it from my 
 brother-in-law. Had he known to what purpose it was 
 to have been put, he would never have given it, eh, 
 Master Pare?" and he turned to his companion, who 
 had also unmasked, exhibiting the pale, intellectual 
 countenance of the king's physician. " And now," con- 
 tinued Henri of Navarre, " here are further instructions 
 for the Governor of La Rochelle. The attack will be 
 made shortly, and he is to resist to the death. To the 
 death! Do you understand?" 
 
 " I understand, your Majesty," replied Raoul, as he 
 received the two documents. "But oh, sire," and he 
 trembled at his own effrontery, " what shall I say when 
 they ask me if our leader has indeed recanted?"
 
 ig& A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 A dark frown crossed the King of Navarre's face, and 
 for a moment it seemed as if he were about to strike the 
 audacious questioner to his feet. 
 
 Then a smile parted his thin lips. 
 
 "I like your spirit," he said. "But it is for you to 
 obey commands and leave higher questions to those 
 above you. Is not the crown of France worth a mass?" 
 
 The chevalier made no reply. 
 
 "I see you blame me," continued the king, with a 
 somewhat sarcastic laugh, and yet not angrily. " What 
 is that to me? And why I answer you I do not know, 
 save that I see in you that rare virtue sincerity. Do 
 you know your classics? If you do, you must remember 
 what Tacitus says: 'Oh! the happy time when each 
 one can think what he likes and say what he thinks!' 
 That happy time has not yet arrived. " 
 
 " And yet, sire " began Raoul, and then paused. 
 
 "Go on," said Henri, with a good-natured smile. 
 '* I am in a humor to hear you now, and I may not be 
 again. " 
 
 " Why, then, abandon the religion of which you are 
 the leader, and so dishearten your followers?" 
 
 " Abandon, never ! I have simply laid it aside. Be- 
 lieve me, it is better to recoil in order to leap the 
 further, than to leap at once, when sure of falling short 
 of your mark. How would it have benefited my follow- 
 ers had I, in stubbornness, sacrificed my life?" 
 
 " But surely the King of France would have listened 
 to reason," suggested Raoul, surprised at his own bold- 
 ness. 
 
 "The king, perhaps. But not the queen-mother. 
 She is the head of France at present, and, believe me, 
 one does not argue with success. I have done what I 
 considered for the best, and for the future welfare of
 
 BY ROYAL COMMAND. 197 
 
 the country I love. Do not be too exacting, mon ami. 
 To expect absolute rectitude here below is a dangerous 
 dream. And do not judge by appearances. What 
 amuses the child is the marionette, what interests the 
 man are the wires by which it is worked. Let time 
 show whether my course has been right or not. And 
 let posterity judge me." 
 
 A shade of sadness passed over the face of the man 
 who was destined in the future to be the guiding-star 
 of his beloved France and to do away with many of the 
 abuses under which she was now groaning. But it was 
 only for a moment that Henri's face was overclouded. 
 Then, wrapping his cloak about him again, he laid his 
 hand firmly on the young Gascon's shoulder. 
 
 "And now, do your duty. I have placed in your 
 hands a dangerous and important mission. The pass I 
 have given you and filled up with an assumed name was 
 bestowed on me personally, in case my safety should 
 require it. But be wary. Do not be captured again. 
 For should you be recognized, I fear not even that pass 
 would avail you. Farewell and God-speed! Away 
 with your doubts! Trust your sovereign as he trusts 
 you!" 
 
 "To the life, sire!" exclaimed Raoul fervently, his 
 whole heart full of affection and devotion, as he raised 
 to his lips the hand so frankly extended to him. 
 
 Without more words, the King of Navarre turned to 
 leave the place. 
 
 But Master Pare lingered a moment 
 
 "You forgot my advice, my boy," he said in a low 
 voice and half reproachfully. " I did not know of your 
 wrest till recently, shortly before the king, who had 
 been in communication with Simon Beppa, sent for me 
 to accompany him here." Otherwise but it is useless
 
 198 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 to speak of that now. But if you are in danger again, 
 send for me if possible without delay. I and I alone 
 may be able to save you. I dare say no more now. 
 My science is not omnipotent. Hope for all things, 
 and remember !"
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 RAOUL TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 AFTER the departure of the King of Navarre with 
 Master Pare, the chevalier, in spite of himself, could 
 not but feel encouraged. 
 
 He fully realized how great a compliment the king 
 had paid him in seeking him out in that squalid place 
 and in bestowing upon him the confidence he had. 
 
 The physician's words too were full of cheer for the 
 future. Raoul could not but wonder if the good man 
 were not in possession of some secret which sooner or 
 later would dissipate the clouds that at present lowered 
 over his path. 
 
 If he could only see Gabrielle, if it were but for one 
 instant, to hear her sa}' that she forgave him for the in- 
 jury, unconscious though it were, he had wrought to 
 her and her family. But any further attempt in that 
 direction was not to be thought of for a moment. His 
 duty, and his sole duty, now was to proceed to La 
 Rochelle and fulfil his master's behest. 
 
 "Mirza," he called, raising his head, and beckoning 
 to him the gypsy girl, who had remained hidden away 
 in a dark corner with Ismael during the preceding in- 
 terview " Mirza, do you know what arrangements 
 have been made for me to obtain my horse in the 
 morning?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Chevalier. Ismael will conduct
 
 200 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 you to her. All has been settled with Master Beppa. 
 But, monsieur " and the girl hesitated. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You will not run such fearful risks again?" 
 
 " Have no fear. " 
 
 "When, in the gardens of the Hotel de Bassom- 
 pierre " 
 
 " Ah !" cried Raoul, leaping to his feet with all his 
 old-time impetuosity "Ah! you were there!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And you saw her ? " 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 " Heaven bless her ! She came to meet me ! And 
 I," bitterly, "/failed in my appointment!" 
 
 " She understood, monsieur. " 
 
 "She knew of my arrest?" 
 
 "Yes. Sergeant Goujon came to inform the duch- 
 ess." 
 
 Raoul ground his teeth with rage. 
 
 " Ah ! the sergeant ! I have a long score to settle 
 with him. And settled some day it shall be!" 
 
 "May I be there to see!" exclaimed Mirza, with a 
 gleam in her black eyes which showed that, with all 
 her capacity for gratitude, she possessed her full share 
 of the vindictiveness which is supposed to be a char- 
 acteristic of her race. 
 
 " Mirza, " continued the chevalier, taking the girl's 
 hand in his, "no one could have been better friend 
 than you have been to me. Dare I ask one further 
 proof of your goodness?" 
 
 "You have only to speak, monsieur. Your wishes 
 are my commands." 
 
 "When I am gone from here, seek in some way to 
 see her once again, and tell her tell her, the twin stars
 
 RAOUL TO THE RESCUE. tOI 
 
 of our destiny have not yet sunk. Tell her, for yet a 
 little, to hope and trust." 
 
 The Tzigana gave the required promise; and, making 
 a pillow of his cloak, the chevalier threw himself down 
 for the rest he so much needed to fit him for the long 
 journey in store for him on the morrow. 
 
 While he slept, the gypsies outside, who had been 
 warned by Mirza of what would be expected of them, 
 kept faithful watch. 
 
 Long before daylight, Ismael aroused the Gascon, 
 and, with the utmost precaution, led him by a round- 
 about way to the rear of the stables of the Green Dragon. 
 
 Here Simon Beppa, the faithful, was in waiting, 
 with the horse saddled and bridled. He also had 
 Raoul's sword, and as the young man buckled it once 
 more about his waist, it seemed to furnish him with a 
 fresh store of courage. 
 
 He could have sworn too, as he caressed the horse's 
 head, that the splendid animal knew him again, and 
 this was another good omen. 
 
 No time was lost in the preparations for departure, 
 and after a hearty farewell to each of his two friends, 
 Raoul found himself riding slowly (for undue haste 
 might have aroused suspicion) toward the outskirts of 
 the city. He passed the guard at the gate without 
 difficulty, although the officer in charge closely scruti- 
 nized both the pass and its presenter. 
 
 " Did this bear aught other than the royal signature, 
 we might be obliged to detain you," he said, half apolo- 
 getically, as he handed back the paper. "We have 
 orders to exercise more than usual caution." 
 
 Raoul bowed politely, replaced the document, but 
 made no response in words, as he touched the horse 
 lightly and rode through the gate.
 
 2O2 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The first danger was passed. As soon as he dared, 
 he spurred on his steed, and was soon clattering away 
 at full speed southward. 
 
 All day long he rode, the good horse seeming to know 
 no such thing as fatigue. Truly this mare, in whose 
 veins ran the blood of Arab ancestors, was a striking 
 contrast to the rawboned animal with which Raoul had 
 set forth from Puycadere. 
 
 She seemed to know the love her master had con- 
 ceived for her, and to be resolved to leave nothing 
 undone to merit it. 
 
 Raoul stroked her sleek neck and baptized her Spe- 
 ranza in honor of the goddess of Hope, at whose shrine 
 he was then a devout worshipper. 
 
 That day and the next were productive of no unto- 
 ward events, and by nightfall of the second day they had 
 reached the village of Seuil, not twenty miles away 
 from La Rochelle, their final destination. 
 
 Here the chevalier determined to remain until the 
 morrow. It would have been impossible to reach the 
 city before the closing of the gates, and besides he was 
 not willing to tax further the splendid animal that had 
 carried him so well. 
 
 The inn of the town was clean and neat, and kept 
 by a bright-faced, merry little woman who reminded 
 De Puycadere strongly of his good friend of Saint 
 Germain, Madame Rose Goujon, whose kindhearted- 
 ness almost atoned for the wretched qualities of her 
 miserable, unworthy husband. After an excellent 
 supper, the king's messenger stretched himself in .a 
 corner of the fireplace with a flask of good Rhenish at 
 his elbow. 
 
 The room rapidly filled up with the villagers, until it 
 was crowded almost to overflowing. All seemed un-
 
 RAOUL TO THE RESCUE. 203 
 
 duly excited, and it was evident that there were topics 
 of more than ordinary interest to discuss. 
 
 The whole talk was of the massacre in Paris, and 
 Raoul soon saw that there was a strong determination 
 among these sturdy Huguenots to resist in this part of 
 the country all royal persecution or encroachment on 
 their rights. No second Saint Bartholomew would be 
 possible here. They were warned and ready. 
 
 There were two men who had the most to say and to 
 whose opinions the others listened eagerly and with 
 deference; one was a big, burly fellow with a loud 
 voice and apparently a person of wealth and influence, 
 the other was his exact opposite, a little, delicate-look- 
 ing man, but with features full of kindliness and refine- 
 ment. 
 
 " I tell you, Master Mastino," the first was saying, as 
 Raoul's attention was drawn to their conversation, 
 " this is no Paris, as the king will find. La Rochelle 
 will teach his grace of Guise to sing another song. La 
 Rochelle will have no royal garrison forced upon her. " 
 
 "Granted," replied the one addressed as Master 
 Mastino, " but I doubt much if the king or the Duke of 
 Guise attempts so high-handed a proceeding. " 
 
 This statement was greeted by a perfect hubbub of 
 exclamations. 
 
 "As much as you know about the matter," replied 
 the burly man, as soon as his voice could be heard 
 above the noise. " It is strongly rumored, and I believe 
 the rumor to be correct, that a garrison is ordered at La 
 Rochelle, and a veritable army is coming to enforce the 
 demand." 
 
 "Indeed," said Mastino, in surprise; "nothing was 
 known of this when I left La Rochelle, or rather Vris- 
 sac, this morning."
 
 2O4 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 At the word Vrissac, Raoul could not repress a start, 
 but he was destined to receive a still greater surprise 
 at the very next words spoken. 
 
 " Vrissac ! Ay, and the accursed vicomte is the man 
 appointed as chief of the garrison. Ma foi ! He'll find 
 things somewhat changed at the chateau!" 
 
 And the speaker roared with laughter, in which he 
 was joined by almost the entire company. 
 
 "It was an outrage!" cried Mastino, indignantly. 
 "The chateau was not his, and, moreover, it ill be- 
 hooves us to copy the atrocities of our enemies. " 
 
 " Bah ! You would talk in a different vein had you 
 not been physician to the Vrissac family. But we 
 won't quarrel over that. There'll be plenty of blood- 
 shed before long !" 
 
 "I fear so! Ah, would the king had better coun- 
 sellors!" 
 
 "That would be treason in Paris, Master Mastino, 
 but here we can snap our fingers at Lorraine and the 
 Italian woman. Curses upon the murderers of Coligny ! 
 Ah ! if we had but a leader. Would Harry of Navarre 
 were among us; but," with a sigh, "he, they say, goes 
 now to mass. " 
 
 "Ay, 'tis a shame! No gallanter leader could we 
 wish for, but he has saved his own neck at the expense 
 of his followers." 
 
 Raoul longed to speak out, to declare himself as 
 equerry, to narrate his conversation with the King of 
 Navarre, and to assure these Huguenots that their 
 leader was with them heart and soul ; but a moment's 
 reflection convinced him that this would be unwise, not 
 to say dangerous. What the king had said had been 
 said to him in confidence, and it was not for him to 
 betray it
 
 RAOUL TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 205 
 
 He finished his bottle of wine and then sought his 
 room. 
 
 Bright and early the next morning, mounted on Spe- 
 ranza, he set out for La Rochelle. 
 
 In all the villages through which he passed, he 
 noticed that the people were in the streets and that in- 
 tense excitement prevailed. 
 
 Evidently the news he had heard at Seuil the even- 
 ing before had preceded him. 
 
 He dashed by the various groups, however, without 
 stopping to ask questions, and at about nine o'clock 
 found himself within a few miles of his destination. 
 
 As he was riding rapidly along, he noticed at one 
 side of the road a magnificent estate, but the lawns and 
 terraces of which were trampled and defaced, and the 
 mansion itself was disfigured and blackened as if by a 
 recent conflagration. 
 
 Two peasants, one a very old man and the other a 
 mere boy, were sitting under a tree by the roadside, 
 discussing a frugal meal. 
 
 The chevalier drew rein, and, addressing them, in- 
 quired as to the cause of the devastation. 
 
 "That is the Chateau de Vrissac," piped up the boy 
 eagerly, " and it was set on fire because it belongs to 
 the wicked vicomte, an enemy of our religion." 
 
 "Tush, tush, boy, your tongue flies away with you," 
 interrupted the old man, reprovingly. " 'Tis true the 
 vicomte is harsh and unjust, but the fire was started by 
 new-comers in the village, who had been misinformed 
 as to the ownership of the domain. The vicomte is 
 not the proprietor, but his cousin, Mademoiselle Gabri- 
 elle, who, though her worship be not ours, is as sweet 
 and lovely a young lady as the sun ever shone on. 
 Heaven bless her!''
 
 206 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 The blessing was re-echoed in the chevalier's heart 
 as he bestowed upon the peasant a largess so great as 
 to cause his old eyes to open wide with amazement and 
 gratitude. It was a larger sum than he had ever pos- 
 sessed at any one time in all his simple life. 
 
 Without waiting for the thanks which were heaped 
 upon him, Raoul rode off, and was soon before the 
 gates of La Rochelle. 
 
 He found no difficulty in gaining admission to the 
 governor, and his interview with that official was most 
 satisfactory. 
 
 The governor's face fairly beamed with joy as he 
 read the communication from the King of Navarre, in 
 which the latter warned him of the approach of the 
 royal troops, bade him refuse entrance and hold the 
 city at all costs, and in conclusion gave assurance to all 
 the Huguenot chiefs that he (Henri) was with their 
 cause heart and soul, and only awaited a fitting oppor- 
 tunity to declare the fact publicly. 
 
 "This saves La Rochelle!" was the exultant cry of 
 the governor, as he hastened away to inform the various 
 officers of the glorious news. 
 
 In spite of Raoul's impatience to set out on his home- 
 ward journey, he was compelled to remain the entire 
 day until the return dispatches could be prepared. 
 
 As the King of Navarre's messenger, every attention 
 and courtesy were paid to him, and a young officer of 
 about his own age was detailed to show him about the 
 city. 
 
 He found the place to be splendidly fortified and fully 
 equipped with men and ammunition. There was no 
 doubt that if the royal troops should attempt a siege, 
 they would stand but little chance of success. 
 
 Before he had half finished his tour of inspection, all
 
 RAOUL TO THE RESCUE. 207 
 
 the chevalier's warlike instincts were aroused, and he 
 found himself more than once wishing that he might 
 remain to take part in the approaching fray. 
 
 But this of course was impossible, as his orders were 
 to return to Paris at the earliest possible moment. 
 
 Just before nightfall all was in readiness, and with 
 the precious dispatches sewn within the lining of his 
 doublet, Raoul bade a cordial farewell to the governor 
 and the young officer, leaped upon Speranza's back, and 
 clattered out of the gateway, the portcullis being im- 
 mediately lowered behind him. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening, and the smiling landscape 
 gave no token of the terrible scenes of battle and blood- 
 shed it was destined to witness before twenty-four hours 
 had elapsed. 
 
 The chevalier rode leisurely along, as it was not his 
 intention to proceed farther than Seuil that night, and 
 he might have to make a long detour on the morrow in 
 order to avoid the approaching army. 
 
 In any event, it would have been dangerous to attempt 
 to pass through the royal troops, but it was doubly so 
 now that he had reason to believe that Hector de Vris- 
 sac, his declared enemy, was in command. 
 
 It was already dark when he passed the Chateau de 
 Vrissac, and the huge building loomed up a shapeless 
 mass through the gloom. He felt enraged at the van- 
 dalism which had been committed, and more than ever 
 deplored the strife of party which was racking that fair 
 land of France from north to south, from east to west. 
 If Henri of Navarre should ever qpme to the throne, he 
 would be a king in all that the name implied, and not a 
 mere puppet in the hands of unscrupulous advisers. 
 
 There was the tree under which the two peasants had 
 sat What was it the o 1 ^ man had said? "As sweet
 
 208 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 and lovely a young lady as the sun ever shone on." 
 Ay, that she was. And the young Gascon grew very 
 humble at the thought that he had won this pearl of 
 price; for not for one instant would he admit but 
 that she would be his eventually, in spite of the 
 clouds that now hung darkly over their destiny. How 
 he despised himself for the gay, reckless life which had 
 been his before he had met her, and how he would 
 struggle to be worthy of her in the future, should his 
 hopes be realized or not. In spite of the passing fan- 
 cies which come to every young man of imagination 
 and an ardent temperament, he had never loved before 
 and he would never love again. From his boyhood 
 upward such a vision as that of Gabrielle had haunted 
 at times his waking thoughts and lent its brightness to 
 the world of dreams, but never did imagination conjure 
 up so beautiful a reality. 
 
 Absorbed in these thoughts, he rode slowly on until 
 he was about a mile from Vrissac, when suddenly his 
 meditations were rudely interrupted by fierce exclama- 
 tions and then the clash of steel. 
 
 Just ahead of him was a turn in the road, and it was 
 from beyond this turn that the noise came. 
 
 The chevalier's first impression was that the royal 
 army was approaching and he had narrowly escaped 
 thrusting his head into the hornets' nest; but this idea 
 was quickly dispelled as a woman's scream rang out 
 shrilly on the night air. 
 
 Spurring Speranza forward, he soon came to the 
 turning, and there a strange scene was displayed before 
 his eyes, in the light of blazing torches which had been 
 fixed in the high bank by the roadside. 
 
 In the middle of the highway was a travelling car- 
 riage, the frightened horses of which were held by a 
 burly fellow, whose features were indistinguishable.
 
 RAOUL TO THE RESCUE. 209 
 
 Surrounding the carriage were four other desperadoes 
 armed with pikes. 
 
 Upon the ground lay the motionless form of a man in 
 the livery of a footman, and Raoul caught a glimpse of 
 two figures running toward the bushes, evidently the 
 other servants who had fled at the attack upon the 
 coach, leaving its occupants to their fate. 
 
 And one of these occupants at least was a woman! 
 
 Not for one instant after he realized the condition of 
 affairs did the chevalier hesitate. 
 
 Drawing his sword, he rode headlong into the midst 
 of the freebooters, for such they were. The ruffians 
 were taken totally by surprise, and before they could 
 realize what had happened two of them had bit the dust, 
 struck down by Raoul's trusty sword. The man, who 
 had been standing at the horse's head fled in dismay, 
 but the other two held their ground. 
 
 In an instant, the Gascon had leaped from his saddle 
 and was bearing down upon them. A sweep of the keen 
 blade and one of them fell writhing to the ground, but 
 meanwhile the other had thrust with his pike only too 
 surely, and Raoul felt a sharp pain in his shoulder 
 where the weapon had pierced it. 
 
 Before the pike could be withdrawn, however, with a 
 lightning-like lunge he had passed his sword clean 
 through the body of the wretch who had wielded it. 
 
 Grasping the pike, he pulled it out from his shoulder. 
 A rush of blood followed, and, faint and dizzy, he 
 turned toward the carriage. There, framed in the win- 
 dow and distinctly visible in the light of the torches, 
 was the horror-struck face of Gabrielle de Vrissac. 
 
 With a low, inarticulate cry, Raoul staggered forward 
 a step, and then consciousness left him, and he fell 
 headlong, almost at the very feet of the woman he 
 loved and for whom he had fought so gallant! w.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 
 
 To explain how Mademoiselle de Vrissac happened 
 to be in the dangerous plight from which she was res- 
 cued by Raoul, a brief retrospective glance will be 
 necessary. 
 
 We have seen how the duchess went to the Louvre 
 and with what success she met. 
 
 It needed only one glance at her aunt's face for 
 Gabrielle, who had passed the time of the duchess' ab- 
 sence in an agony of suspense, to know what was the 
 result of her mission. 
 
 The chevalier was doomed. 
 
 Although Gabrielle fully realized that all was over 
 between them, that never could she give her hand to 
 one which was stained in the blood of a cousin, who 
 had been as dear to her as any brother, it was like a 
 death-knell to her as well, to know the man she loved, 
 ay and loved still in spite of all, was destined to lose 
 his head upon the scaffold. 
 
 Not one word did she say to her aunt. And, indeed, 
 it would have been useless. Sorrow seemed to have 
 wrought an entire change in the duchess* whole nature. 
 
 Faithful to her word, she had spared the life of the 
 man who had thrown himself on her protection, and 
 permitted him to pass uninjured from the house into 
 which he had brought desolation and left a shadow 
 which would never be lifted the shadow of death.
 
 CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 211 
 
 But now all the kind and loving springs of her nature 
 seemed dried up, all the large charity of the woman 
 was asleep, and the mother was aroused, with but one 
 thought in heart and brain vengeance on the man who 
 had deprived her of her son. 
 
 But not so with Gabrielle. Her one thought was to 
 save the prisoner, and then bury what remained of 
 her miserable life in some convent. 
 
 But how to save him? 
 
 The Queen of Navarre was her only hope, and to the 
 Louvre she betook herself as early the next morning as 
 court etiquette would permit. 
 
 But Marguerite, loving and sympathetic as she was, 
 could give no relief to that aching heart. 
 
 "My child," she exclaimed sorrowfully, "I have 
 done all in my power, but it is useless. The king, my 
 brother, is inexorable." 
 
 "But he will listen to you! He loves you!" cried 
 Gabrielle, wildly. 
 
 " He loves me, yes. But there is one of whom his 
 fear is greater than his love for me." 
 
 "I know! And to her I will go!" 
 
 "Nay, nay, my child," said Marguerite, laying a re- 
 straining hand upon the young girl's shoulder; "it 
 would be but to dash your head against a wall of 
 granite." 
 
 But Gabrielle, beside herself with grief and horror, 
 flung off almost roughly the queen's hand. 
 
 "I care not!" she exclaimed, passionately. "Go to 
 her I must and will ! I care not were it to meet my 
 death !" 
 
 " Ventre-saint-gris ! who speaks of death!" cried a 
 clear, deep voice. 
 
 Both women started as the King of Navarre, who had 

 
 212 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 entered the room tmperceived, advanced toward them. 
 
 "Ah! Mademoiselle de Vrissac, is it you?" he con- 
 tinued. "And with that Niobe-like face! You have 
 not heard the news then?" 
 
 "News! What news?" exclaimed the queen and Ga- 
 brielle in a breath. 
 
 " The Chevalier de Puycadere will not be executed at 
 present. " 
 
 "The king has relented?" asked Marguerite, eagerly. 
 
 "Not he! But the bird has flown! The chevalier 
 has escaped!" 
 
 " Escaped?" 
 
 "Ay, and is in safety. I warrant me, the blood- 
 hounds will not catch him this time." 
 
 Gabrielle, released from the terrible tension, swayed 
 and would have fallen, had not the queen caught her 
 in her arms. 
 
 There, a flood of tears came to relieve the over- 
 wrought brain. 
 
 Holding the girl close to her heart, Marguerite petted, 
 comforted, and wept with her. 
 
 The king, who, brave as he was, shrank from the 
 sight of woman's tears, stole quietly away. 
 
 After Gabrielle was somewhat calmer, Marguerite 
 insisted upon sending her back to the Hotel de Bassom- 
 pierre in her own litter. 
 
 " Courage, sweetheart ! Who knows what the future 
 has in store for you." 
 
 But Gabrielle only shook her head sadly. 
 
 Arrived home, Mademoiselle de Vrissac was told 
 that the duchess wished to see her without delay. 
 Going at once to her aunt's apartment, she found there 
 not only the duchess herself, but the Vicomte Hector 
 as
 
 CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 313 
 
 The news of the chevalier's escape from the Grand 
 Chatelet was already known to them. 
 
 But the duchess' strength was at end. Terrible as 
 the blow was to her, she lacked the energy to pursue 
 her vengeance further and to arrange plans for the re- 
 capture of the fugitive. 
 
 She lay back in her arm-chair, pale and motionless, 
 her heavy eyelids drooping, and her whole attitude one 
 of hopeless despair. 
 
 She did not even look up as Gabrielle entered the 
 room. 
 
 But the vicomte turned to her with a gloomy frown 
 on his dark countenance. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he said, "it is scarcely meet for a 
 demoiselle of your position to be alone in the streets. " 
 
 "I have been to the Louvre," replied Gabrielle, 
 quietly. " And I was not alone. Dame Brigitte went 
 with me, and I returned in the royal litter." 
 
 " Then you doubtless know of the escape of Paul's 
 murderer?" 
 
 At these words, the duchess shivered. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mademoiselle de Vrissac, simply. 
 
 "And you doubtless regret your short-lived infatua- 
 tion?" demanded the vicomte, with a half-veiled sneer. 
 
 Gabrielle raised her eyes, and looked her cousin full 
 in the face. 
 
 " If you mean Is all at end between the Chevalier 
 de Puycadere and myself?" she said, slowly and dis- 
 tinctly, "yes, a thousand times, yes. I hope never to 
 see him again. " 
 
 A gleam of joy transfigured the vicomte's counte- 
 nance. He took a step forward and caught Gabrielle's 
 hand in his. 
 
 41 Thank heaven for that!" he exclaimed, fervently.
 
 214 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " Then Gabrielle, dear Gabrielle, the dream of my life 
 will be realized." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac, with no haste, gently re- 
 leased her hand. 
 
 " The dream of your life?" 
 
 " To call you my wife. You know that I love 
 you." 
 
 " I shall never marry," replied Gabrielle, gently but 
 firmly. 
 
 "Bah!" laughed the Vicomte. " I'll teach you to 
 think better of that." 
 
 " I intend without delay to enter the convent of the 
 Madonna. " 
 
 De Vrissac started, and the laugh died away on his 
 lips. 
 
 "You are mad!" 
 
 "That is my fixed resolve." 
 
 " Madame la Duchesse and myself will have some- 
 thing to say on that matter. Let me remind you that 
 you are not your own mistress. " 
 
 " I shall be in six months." 
 
 " And meanwhile?" 
 
 " Meanwhile, I remain with my aunt if she will al- 
 low it." 
 
 " And at the same time a target for all the scandal- 
 ous tongues in Paris. " 
 
 "Scandal, monsieur!" ejaculated Gabrielle, proudly. 
 " Scandal has yet to touch my name. " 
 
 " Perchance! But it will not be long delayed. Your 
 what shall I call it? love affair is well known. If 
 this chevalier escapes the axe, what guarantee have we 
 that you are not meeting him in secret?" 
 
 " My word, monsieur. " 
 
 "Your intentions are doubtless beyond suspicion.
 
 CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 115 
 
 But it is well to avoid temptation. You will be safer 
 at Vrissac than here." 
 
 " At Vrissac?" 
 
 "Yes. With Dame Brigitte as a companion, you 
 will be as secluded as in the convent you long for, and 
 will doubtless shortly forget your foolish infatuation. " 
 
 Gabrielle turned to the duchess. 
 
 "Aunt," she said, piteously, "is this your wish 
 also?" 
 
 The duchess moved uneasily, as if annoyed at being 
 disturbed. 
 
 " For the present, yes, " she answered listlessly. " I 
 I would be alone." 
 
 The tears came to Gabrielle's eyes, but she bravely 
 choked them back. 
 
 "I am ready, then," she answered, calmly. "When 
 is it your will that I should go?" 
 
 " As soon as possible. To-morrow morning. " 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 " You are not angry with me, Gabrielle?" 
 
 And there was such a note of pleading in his voice 
 that Gabrielle, in spite of herself, was touched. 
 
 "No, Hector, I am not angry," she replied, gently. 
 
 " I would gladly accompany you to Vrissac, you know 
 that," proceeded the vicomte, his face clearing at her 
 answer. " But my regiment is ordered to La Rochelle, 
 and I must needs accompany it. We start this after- 
 noon." 
 
 The duchess raised her head, and for the first time 
 manifested any interest in the conversation. 
 
 "You are going to La Rochelle. Is there trouble 
 there?" 
 
 " It will soon be quelled after we arrive," answered 
 De Vrissac confidently. " 'Tis only a vain threat of
 
 2l6 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCON Y. 
 
 the accursed heretics. A few swords flashing in the 
 sunlight, and they will capitulate. " 
 
 " But will Gabrielle be safe?" asked Madame de Bas- 
 sompierre, with just a slight touch of anxiety in her 
 weary voice. 
 
 "Surely, my dear madame. Vrissac is fully three 
 miles from La Rochelle. Even should there be any 
 fighting, she would know nothing of it. Why, the 
 heretics themselves would not dare to touch the chateau. 
 Besides I shall be not far distant and fully able to pro- 
 tect her." 
 
 Madame de Bassompierre hesitated a moment. She 
 had never liked the vicomte, and she asked herself if 
 indeed it were well that her niece should quit the pro- 
 tection of her roof. 
 
 But, after all, what did it matter? Her son was dead. 
 Naught else was of interest. Doubtless Gabrielle was 
 as well off at Vrissac as anywhere. 
 
 "Very well," she said, sinking back into her former 
 indifferent attitude. "You are her guardian as well 
 as I." 
 
 A pang shot through Gabrielle's breast. Had she 
 lost her aunt, too, as well as her lover? 
 
 " I will see that a coach and the proper servants are 
 ready to-morrow morning," said De Vrissac. "Of 
 course you will take Dame Brigitte with you." 
 
 Gabrielle nodded. She felt like an automaton with 
 no will of her own. 
 
 And, after all, it mattered but little. At Vrissac, at 
 all events, there would be peace. It was her first grief, 
 and she had yet to learn the truth of the adage : Ccclum 
 non animum mutant. 
 
 It was not without design that the vicomte suggested 
 Dame Brigitte accompanying his cousin to Vrissac.
 
 CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 817 
 
 The good woman had been his nurse as well as that 
 of Gabrielle, and she was quite as devoted to the one as 
 to the other. It was the dearest wish of her life to see 
 her two foster-children united. To her, there was no 
 family like the Vrissacs, and she would have laid down 
 her life for either one of the two remaining representa- 
 tives. 
 
 The vicomte was quite well aware of all this, and 
 he counted on Dame Brigitte's assistance to induce Ga- 
 brielle to smile more kindly on his suit. 
 
 As much as he was capable of being in love with any 
 one, he was in love with his cousin, but he was by no 
 means blind to the substantial advantages such an 
 alliance would bring him ; for, besides her large wealth, 
 Gabrielle was in high favor at court and could do much 
 to further his fortunes. And ambition was the god of 
 Hector de Vrissac's existence. 
 
 Had Raoul de Puycadere never crossed Gabrielle's 
 path, the vicomte might possibly have accomplished 
 his wish, for he was possessed of a bulldog tenacity, 
 and, in spite of much she saw in him to offend her, 
 Gabrielle was attached to him in a way, merely from 
 the fact that he was her sole kinsman on her father's 
 side, and because they had been intimates all her life. 
 
 But, any chance that De Vrissac had ever had was 
 now forever gone. His cousin was not one of those 
 women whose hearts can be caught on the rebound. She 
 had loved once and would never love again. It had 
 been a beautiful dream while it lasted, but she knew 
 now that it was but a vision destined never to be realized. 
 
 And it was a heartsick woman that, by the side of 
 Dame Brigitte, rode out of the gates of Paris the next 
 morning, en route for Vrissac.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR. 
 
 IT was the hour just before dawn. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac sat alone in what had once 
 served as the grand salon of her ancestral chateau. 
 
 The apartment, which was dimly lighted by a silver 
 candelabra with three branches, was now sadly disman- 
 tled, and presented but a wreck of its former elegance. 
 
 Everywhere, upon the inlaid floor, over all the mag- 
 nificent carving of the woodwork, upon the tapestry 
 that covered the walls and the velvet hangings of the 
 windows, were traces of the incendiary flames which 
 had so nearly destroyed the fine old building. 
 
 The superb stained glass of a large window which 
 occupied nearly a third of one side of the room was in 
 fragments, and a flight of steps leading from the win- 
 dow to the garden below was partially in ruins, the 
 balustrade entirely torn away. 
 
 Little did Mademoiselle de Vrissac herself resemble 
 the brilliant maid of honor of the court of Valois. Her 
 dress was of some gray stuff of the simplest possible 
 make, and her beautiful golden hair was drawn away in 
 rippling waves from her white forehead and confined 
 negligently by a ribbon at the back. 
 
 Changed too, though none less lovely, was the face 
 whose pallor told of a long vigil. It was very grave, 
 and there was a certain something in the depths of the
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR. 4 19 
 
 sapphire eyes that had not been there a month before 
 and told that the soul behind had passed the dividing 
 line that separates the girl from the woman. 
 
 For three days now had she nursed the wounded and 
 delirious man who had come to her rescue when her 
 coach was attacked by the German freebooters. 
 
 Long before he had known who the occupant of the 
 vehicle was, she had recognized him by the light of the 
 torches. 
 
 As he fell with that cry of Gabrielle upon his lips, 
 after putting to flight the last of the ruffians, she had 
 thrown open the door of the coach, and, leaping out, 
 taken his head in her lap. 
 
 Yes, he was still living, but whom could she look 
 to for aid? 
 
 Dame Brigitte was in a dead faint, having lost con- 
 sciousness at the first attack. 
 
 All her retainers were either slain or had fled. 
 
 As, in her despair, she chafed the hands of the chev- 
 alier and wiped away the moisture from his forehead, 
 the sound of hoofs smote upon her ear. 
 
 In another moment a horseman dashed up and, leap- 
 ing from his saddle, approached with an exclamation 
 of dismay at the signs of the recent strife about him. 
 
 But this exclamation was immediately succeeded by 
 another of uncontrollable surprise. 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Vrissac ! Gabrielle! you!" 
 
 The new-comer was a little man, far past his prime, 
 but to Gabrielle, in her distress, he seemed a very angel 
 of light. 
 
 She knew him at once, an old friend since childhood 
 and the doctor of the little village of Vrissac. In as 
 few words as possible she related what had occurred. 
 
 Master Mastino made a hasty examination of the
 
 21O A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 chevalier's wound, and pronounced it, though serious, 
 by no means fatal. 
 
 "We will take him at once to the chateau," decided 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac. 
 
 14 But the chateau is partially in ruins." 
 
 "In ruins!" 
 
 It was now the physician's turn to relate briefly what 
 had happened. 
 
 " Nevertheless, there is no other place, " said Gabri- 
 elle, imperatively. 
 
 Scarcely were the words spoken, and before Master 
 Mastino could remonstrate, the coachman and one of 
 the footmen came sheepishly forth from where they had 
 been hiding in the bushes by the roadside, and thor- 
 oughly ashamed of their cowardice now that the danger 
 was over. 
 
 With their aid, the form of the chevalier was lifted 
 into the coach by the side of the still unconscious 
 Dame Brigitte. 
 
 Gabrielle followed, the doctor .mounted his horse 
 again, leading Speranza by the bridle, and the little 
 cortege moved slowly on toward Vrissac, reaching the 
 chateau without further mishap. 
 
 Two days had passed since then, days when the air 
 had been full of the echoes of distant cannonading pro- 
 ceeding from the besiegement of La Rochelle. 
 
 It was now near the break of the third day, and the 
 preceding night had been much quieter. Evidently 
 the city had capitulated or the besiegers had been 
 repulsed. 
 
 Gabrielle vaguely wondered which was the case, 
 without in truth much caring, as she sat with her eyes 
 fixed upon the door of the chamber wherein the wounded 
 man lay.
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR. 221 
 
 The physician was there and would shortly come 
 forth to give his report. 
 
 "Well, Mastino?" 
 
 And Gabrielle de Vrissac rose from her chair, and 
 advanced, with eager questioning in her weary eyes, 
 toward the little man with the kind, benevolent face 
 who had just entered the room, closing the door care- 
 fully behind him. 
 
 "Well, Mastino?" 
 
 " He sleeps, mademoiselle. And the sleep will do 
 for him far more than all my remedies. For a man 
 badly wounded only two days ago, he is recovering in 
 a marvellous manner. " 
 
 " Then he is out of danger?" 
 
 "Without any doubt. He is weak yet from the 
 amount of blood he has lost, but there is no longer 
 either fever or delirium," 
 
 Gabrielle raised her eyes to heaven, her lips moving 
 in silent thanksgiving. For an instant, it seemed to 
 her that naught else mattered, if only his life were 
 'spared. 
 
 " It must be said, too," continued the physician, " that 
 last night was not like the one preceding when the 
 noise of the bombardment continued without cessation 
 until daybreak." 
 
 " Has La Rochelle fallen?" 
 
 " No. The army of the Catholics has been repulsed 
 with tremendous loss. Everywhere the Huguenots 
 are pursuing them, and no quarter is shown. " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac shuddered. 
 
 "They remember Saint Bartholomew," dryly added 
 Master Mastino, who was himself of the reformed 
 religion. 
 
 At these words a picture flashed before Gabrielle's
 
 222 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 mental vision, not that of the massacre, but of another 
 scene on that same Bartholomew's eve, when, in the 
 palace of the Louvre, she had plighted her troth to one 
 whom now a cruel destiny forbade her to think of as a 
 husband. 
 
 " Have you heard aught of my cousin, Hector?" she 
 asked hurriedly, passing her hand over her forehead as 
 if to banish the haunting memory. " He was one of 
 the officers in command." 
 
 "Nothing, mademoiselle." 
 
 In spite of all she had to afflict her, it was with genu- 
 ine regret that Gabrielle heard this. After all, the 
 vicomte was of her own flesh and blood, and she would 
 have been thankful to know that he was safe. 
 
 "You should not remain here, mademoiselle," ven- 
 tured Mastino, after a pause. " There may be danger. " 
 
 " Danger ! What danger can there be here in this 
 chateau, devastated by fire, and which every one thinks 
 abandoned?" 
 
 " But you are alone here. " 
 
 " Yes, with the exception of Dame Brigitte, my old 
 nurse, and perhaps the coachman and footman who 
 came with me from Paris ; I know not whether they 
 still linger or not. It was Providence that sent you 
 along the highway that terrible night, my good Mas- 
 tino. Without you, I never could have brought the 
 the wounded man here." 
 
 " Does Dame Brigitte know nothing of his presence?" 
 
 " Nothing. She did not recover consciousness, as 
 you know, till some time after our arrival here. " 
 
 " But why not associate her in your act of charity?" 
 
 At this very natural question of the physician, Made- 
 moiselle de Vrissac started with a quick movement of 
 alarm.
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR. 
 
 "Mastino!" she cried, half commandingly, half im- 
 ploringly. " Not a word of the man who is there ! To 
 no one! No one! You understand !" 
 
 Mastino gave her a glance of surprise, but he an- 
 swered quietly: 
 
 " It shall be as you wish, mademoiselle. Besides, 
 our patient should be well enough to leave here when 
 he awakes." 
 
 " Heaven be praised for that! This care of conceal- 
 ing him from Brigitte, of continually guarding that 
 door, is wearing me out. This is my third night with- 
 out sleep. " 
 
 " I pray you, mademoiselle, to take some repose. " 
 
 " I shall have time enough for repose, " replied 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac, with a note of bitterness in 
 her voice, " at the convent, where I intend to offer up 
 the rest of my life." 
 
 Again the good little man cast upon her a look of 
 wonderment. He could scarcely recognize in this 
 woman who bore such marks of sorrow upon her fair 
 face the light-hearted girl he had known only a few 
 months before. There was evidently some mystery 
 here, an enigma of which he did not hold the key. But 
 so long as Mademoiselle de Vrissac did not choose to 
 confide in him, it was not his province to force her 
 confidence; so he made no comment upon her remark, 
 but simply said: 
 
 " At all events you cannot remain much longer here.** 
 
 " No. I shall return to Paris, as soon as he is gone, 
 and I can obtain a proper conveyance. My aunt will 
 scarcely refuse me a few days' refuge beneath her roof." 
 
 "If you would deign, Mademoiselle Gabrielle, mjr 
 little house is always at your disposal," suggested tho 
 physician humbly.
 
 224 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 With a rapid gesture, Gabrielle stretched out her 
 hand to him. 
 
 "I know it, my good friend," she said, with much 
 feeling. " I know it, and I thank you. " 
 
 The bells from the church tower close by rang forth 
 the hour of six. 
 
 "I must leave you, mademoiselle," said Mastino. 
 " There are many wounded in the village. I will re- 
 turn in two hours to take away our patient. " 
 
 " But if he should awaken before!" exclaimed Gabri- 
 elle, in sudden alarm at the thought of what this con- 
 tingency might entail. No! She had given him up 
 forever. She would not see him again. To listen to 
 his protestations, his entreaties, would be more than she 
 could endure. 
 
 " Oh ! if he awakens before, open the door for him ! 
 Let him go!" was Mastino's careless response. 
 
 "I! oh! no! no! He must not see me!" cried Gabri- 
 elle, with a shudder she could not repress. And, then, 
 as a new thought struck her, she added hastily : " He 
 does not suspect where he is?" 
 
 "He thinks himself in a deserted house." 
 
 *' Without any idea of which one it is?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Nor of me?" 
 
 " Still less although " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Strange to say, your name was constantly on his lips 
 during his delirium. He must have heard me speak to 
 you, and his brain caught at the word." 
 
 Gabrielle turned away, to hide the bright flush that 
 dyed for a moment her cheek. Yes, she knew that. 
 When she had watched by his side and hung over him 
 in an agony of suspense, had he not gone over **d over,
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR. 435 
 
 with constant repetitions of her name, all that had oc- 
 curred since last they met, revealing to her the details 
 of his escape from the Chatelet and how he happened 
 to be at hand to rescue her from the freebooters? Had 
 she not heard the wild words of entreaty he had poured 
 forth? 
 
 But he was no longer in danger. He must go and 
 without seeing her. They were separated forever 
 forever ! 
 
 " I shall return home through the churchyard. Ex- 
 pect me in two hours," said Mastino, opening the door 
 of the chamber where the wounded chevalier lay. 
 
 " Yes. Do not delay." 
 
 The physician left the room, and Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac crossed with lagging step to the window, and 
 drew back the curtains. 
 
 There was a rosy light in the east, and the shadows 
 were fast fleeing from the garden. 
 
 The dawn was breaking. 
 
 As she watched with aching heart the light growing 
 stronger and stronger, she was suddenly startled by the 
 sight of a figure furtively making its way through the 
 garden below. Who could it be? What new danger 
 threatened? 
 
 Almost before she could ask herself these questions, 
 the figure reached the flight of steps, and hurriedly 
 mounted. 
 
 In another moment, in the dusk of the early morning, 
 she stood face to face with her cousin, the Vicomte 
 Hector de Vrissac. 
 
 She started back, with a cry in which there were 
 mingled relief and alarm. 
 
 "Hector!" 
 
 " Gabrielle ! Thank heaven, you are safe. " 
 15
 
 126 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Safe! Yes, but you!" 
 
 And indeed his appearance gave cause for some 
 doubt. He was in armor, but it was broken and cov- 
 ered with blood and dirt. 
 
 The vicomte hastened to reassure her. 
 
 "I am uninjured," he said, "and I have escaped the 
 hounds for the moment. But they were close upon my 
 track. All is lost! Oh! pardon me, Gabrielle, par- 
 don me! Why did I send you here?" 
 
 And there was such genuine regret in tone and look 
 that Gabrielle 's heart was touched. 
 
 "Don't speak of that now, Hector," she said, gently. 
 " Let us think of your safety. That is the most impor- 
 tant thing." 
 
 "My safety! Yes! But afterward? You cannot re- 
 main here. " 
 
 " No. I shall return to Paris as soon as possible. " 
 
 "Yes, that is best." 
 
 His eyes were devouring her face, and it seemed to 
 him that she had never appeared so beautiful, so desir- 
 able. Worn out though he was by fighting and anx- 
 iety, a wave of passion swept over him. 
 
 "And then then, Gabrielle," he continued, tremu- 
 lously, "you will relent. I may claim you for my 
 own." 
 
 He approached as if to clasp her in his arms; but 
 Gabrielle recoiled with such evident repulsion that the 
 vicomte 's violent temper took fire at once. 
 
 " You shall be mine!" he ejaculated, fiercely. 
 
 " I have already told you, Hector," said Mademoiselle 
 de Vrissac, endeavoring to steady her voice, for, in spite 
 of all her innate courage, she was frightened at his wild 
 words and looks " I have already told you that I can 
 never love you, save save as a cousin. "
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR. aaj 
 
 De Vrissac dashed his steel gauntlet down upon the 
 floor with a furious oath. 
 
 " And why not? Mort de ma vie ! Do you still fancy 
 yourself in love with that ragamuffin, that adventurer, 
 that murderer?" 
 
 Gabrielle started and paled to the lips. Not twenty 
 feet away was the very man designated by such oppro- 
 brious epithets. If the vicomte should discover him ! 
 
 "Would to heaven I had him here now!" continued 
 De Vrissac, allowing his anger and hatred full sway. 
 "This time he should not escape! Once face to face 
 with him, and I would strangle him without giving the 
 heretic dog chance even for confession. " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac clinched her hands until the 
 nails entered the flesh in an agony of fear and horror. 
 
 Suppose Raoul should awake! should hear the 
 vicomte ! should appear there now before him ! But 
 just at this moment De Vrissac's mad outbreak was 
 checked by the entrance of Dame Brigitte, who had 
 been attracted hither by the sound of voices and had 
 hastened to discover what it meant. 
 
 As she caught sight of her foster-son, she ran toward 
 him with a cry of delight and threw her arms about 
 him. 
 
 De Vrissac submitted to the embrace with a good 
 enough grace, but disengaged himself as quickly as 
 possible. To the questions with which he was over- 
 whelmed, however, he returned but gruff answers. 
 
 "Enough of this!" he said at last, cutting short the 
 old woman's volubility. "Those accursed heretics 
 may come in search of me here at any moment. I must 
 away. But first to rid myself of these trappings. I 
 have other garments in the room I occupied when last 
 neve."
 
 228 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Yes, yes," answered Dame Brigitte. "But will it 
 be safe for you to leave here?" 
 
 " It is not safe to remain here." 
 
 " But are not the streets full of the Huguenot soldiers?" 
 
 4 Oh, I am not going by the streets." 
 
 "How then?" 
 
 "Through the cemetery to the priest's house, whei\ 
 I have a horse in waiting. That way!" 
 
 And he pointed to the door of the room where the 
 chevalier was hidden. 
 
 That way! Gabrielle with difficulty repressed the 
 cry which rose to her pale lips. 
 
 " There is an outside staircase leading from that room 
 to the cemetery," continued the vicomte, making a step 
 in the direction indicated. 
 
 But, quick as a flash, Gabrielle darted before him, 
 between him and the room, his entrance into which 
 would undoubtedly mean death to the wounded and 
 defenceless man within. 
 
 "Stop!" she cried, hoarsely. "Do not open that 
 door!" 
 
 The vicomte paused, and looked at her in amazement. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac's heart was beating so heav- 
 ily that it seemed to her as if its throbs must be dis- 
 tinctly audible to the other two occupants of the room. 
 
 " Not open that door ! Why not?" asked her cousin, 
 after a moment's silence, which appeared hours to the 
 miserable girl. 
 
 Her breath was coming so fast as almost to stifle her, 
 but answer she must. 
 
 "Because because you must not," she faltered, her 
 voice sounding to her far, far away. " Because you 
 might be seen! Because there is nothing there! Be- 
 cause all is in ruins behind that door!"
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR. 2 29 
 
 At this declaration, Dame Brigitte, who had been 
 watching her young mistress attentively, uttered a 
 harsh exclamation of surprise, which however passed 
 unnoticed by either of the others. 
 
 The vicomte eyed his cousin with some wonder, but 
 he evidently did not dream of doubting her word. He 
 noticed her agitation, to be sure, and, with a thrill of 
 joy, attributed it to alarm for his safety. 
 
 " Oh, very well, " he said, turning carelessly away, 
 " then I must go in some other direction. There is no 
 more time to lose. I will at once remove this armor, 
 disguise myself as well as I can, and then for flight !" 
 
 The iron hand which had seemed to be clutching 
 Gabrielle's heart released its hold. A long sigh of 
 relief trembled from her lips. But it was a terrible 
 thing she was doing: to close a way of escape for her 
 kinsman in his moment of peril. 
 
 And yet Raoul ! 
 
 "You will go that way?" she asked the vicomte, 
 almost piteously, as she pointed to the half -ruined flight 
 of steps by which he had come. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But it is dangerous. " 
 
 " Undoubtedly, but there is no other way." 
 
 As he spoke, he turned and abruptly left the room to 
 make the necessary change in his apparel. 
 
 Gabrielle still stood in front of the door, the opening 
 of which she had forbidden. 
 
 Suddenly she became conscious that Dame Brigitte 
 was regarding her with a strange expression, part 
 amazement, part anger. 
 
 For a moment the two eyed each other in silence, as 
 do duellists before the swords are crossed. 
 
 The old woman was the first to speak, and when she
 
 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 did it was in a hard, cold tone that Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac had never heard from her before. 
 
 "Gabrielle," she said, slowly, dropping the ceremoni- 
 ous Mademoiselle " Gabrielle, why did you tell your 
 cousin that behind that door all was in ruins?" 
 
 In spite of herself, Gabrielle shivered. Was all to 
 be discovered? 
 
 " I I said, " she began, seeking to gain time. 
 
 "You said that there was nothing there," interrupted 
 Brigitte, inexorably. " And it is false ! You know it 
 is false!" 
 
 " Do you forget to whom you are speaking?" de- 
 manded Mademoiselle de Vrissac, with an effort at 
 haughty indignation. " And do I owe you an account of 
 my actions?" 
 
 But Dame Brigitte, thoroughly aroused at what she 
 regarded as a deed of unforgivable treachery, was not 
 an atom intimidated. 
 
 " Yes, " she replied firmly. " You do owe me an ac- 
 count of your actions, when you lie. Why did you lie?"
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 *TWIXT HAMMER AND ANVIL. 
 
 "NURSE!" 
 
 In the first moment of horror at knowing that her se- 
 cret was discovered, or was about to be discovered, and 
 face to face with all the terrible consequences such a 
 revelation might involve, Gabrielle could only articu- 
 late the one word : 
 
 "Nurse!" 
 
 But Dame Brigitte was aroused, as perhaps she had 
 never been in her placid life before. She understood 
 clearly that the safest way of escape for her beloved 
 foster-son lay through that room, which Gabrielle had 
 declared was in ruins, and which statement she, Dame 
 Brigitte, knew to be untrue. 
 
 So it was with stern face that she advanced a step 
 nearer her young mistress and continued to arraign her 
 in cold, unrelenting tones. 
 
 " I repeat that you have lied. There is a chamber 
 there the entrance to which you have forbidden. What 
 is there in that chamber?" 
 
 " And what should there be?" 
 
 " That is what I ask you. " 
 
 "And if it does not please me to tell you?" retorted 
 Gabrielle, who had now entirely recovered her self- 
 possession, and was determined to use every weapon in 
 her power to allay the old woman's suspicions, or, fail- 
 ing in that, at least to silence her tongue.
 
 232 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 But Dame Brigitte's next move was a startling 
 one. 
 
 "Very well," she said, calmly, "if you refuse to tell 
 me, you shall tell it to your cousin." 
 
 And she moved a step or two toward the door through 
 which the vicomte had disappeared. 
 
 "Nurse!" exclaimed Gabrielle, in an imploring tone. 
 
 Dame Brigitte paused and turned, but there was no 
 sign of relenting upon her countenance. 
 
 "Gabrielle, there is some one there," she said, with 
 a conviction not to be shaken, " some one whom you 
 are hiding. " 
 
 " Are you losing your senses to speak to me in this 
 way?" replied Mademoiselle de Vrissac, seeking to gain 
 time. 
 
 " You are losing yours more than I am mine, if it is 
 the one I suspect." 
 
 " Whom do you suspect?" 
 
 " I have not been so blind as you think. I remember 
 faintly some one being borne into this house. Mastino 
 has been here. You have taken no rest. And I have 
 questioned the coachman, who has told me all. Whom 
 do I suspect? Whom other than the one who has in- 
 spired you with so strange an infatuation?" 
 
 " Monsieur de Puycadere?" 
 
 " You have named him." 
 
 " Can you think " 
 
 Dame Brigitte moved again as if to summon the 
 vicomte. 
 
 " If he is not there, open that door then, open it. " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then your cousin shall ! Monsieur Hector!" 
 
 But in an instant Gabrielle had darted before her, 
 and was barring the way.
 
 'TWIXT HAMMER AND ANVIL. 233 
 
 " Nurse, nurse, what would you do? What would 
 you do? Would you have him kill him?" 
 
 "Ah! it is Monsieur de Puycadere!" cried Brigitte, 
 in an outburst of anger. " Deny it now if you dare!" 
 
 "Well, yes, it is he!" admitted Mademoiselle de 
 Vrissac, thus driven to the wall. "It is he! But, in 
 the name of the saints, be silent!" 
 
 " Oh ! unhappy girl ! You give asylum here to the 
 murderer of your own blood! And you would send 
 another cousin to his death oh! oh!" 
 
 And, overcome by her emotion, the old woman sank 
 helplessly into a chair. 
 
 In an instant, Gabrielle was on her knees beside her, 
 her arms about her waist, and the lovely face upturned 
 imploringly to the convulsed countenance of the woman 
 who had never before refused her anything in her life. 
 
 "No! no! Nurse! Dear nurse! You do not un- 
 derstand. It was he who came to our rescue, he who 
 saved us when we were attacked. He was wounded. 
 I could not leave him to die alone." 
 
 " That is no reason to send your cousin forth to his 
 death." 
 
 And Dame Brigitte attempted to release herself from 
 the girl's embrace, but Gabrielle only clung to her the 
 closer. 
 
 "No! no! Not to his death! Don't say that! He 
 will escape! I know he will!" 
 
 " We must take no chances! Monsieur Hector!" 
 
 "Hush! Hush! For the love of heaven, be silent! 
 You did not hear what he said? That he would stran- 
 gle him," with a shudder, "strangle him without con- 
 fession! And he is weak, ill, defenceless! It must not 
 be! Ah! nurse, nurse! has there not been enough of 
 bloodshed?"
 
 234 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Gabrielle!" 
 
 It was evident that the old woman was softening. 
 Her eyes were less strained in their expression, and she 
 no longer struggled to free herself. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac was quick to perceive the 
 change and to follow up the advantage. 
 
 " Dear, dear Brigitte," she said, laying her head down 
 on the nurse's breast. " You will not be so cruel. No! 
 No ! You are good ! You are kind ! See, I am on my 
 knees before you, begging for what? For the life of 
 the man who came to our rescue at the peril of his own. 
 See, it is I who beg of you, I, your Gabrielle, your lit- 
 tle Gabrielle, to whom you have never refused anything. " 
 
 The tears were now rolling down the old lady's wrin- 
 kled cheeks, and she bent forward and strained Gabri- 
 elle close to her heart. 
 
 "My darling," she murmured, brokenly. "My dar- 
 ling!" And the young girl knew the victory was won. 
 
 Then suddenly Dame Brigitte started, and pushed 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac from her. 
 
 "Hush!" she said, hastily drying her eyes. "Not a 
 word ! Your cousin ! ' ' 
 
 Footsteps were heard in the next room, and, just as 
 Gabrielle sprang to her feet, the vicomte entered. 
 
 He had cast aside his armor, and was dressed in som- 
 bre-colored garments. A hat with broad, flapping brim 
 was on his head, and he was hurriedly fastening the 
 clasp of a long cloak which he had thrown over his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " It is time, " he said. " Farewell. " 
 
 "You are going now?" asked Gabrielle, with mani- 
 fest uneasiness. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And through the garden?"
 
 'TWIXT HAMMER AND ANVIL. 335 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 How cruel it seemed to expose him thus ! After all, 
 why not the other way? It was dark in that room. 
 Perhaps he might pass through without discovering the 
 figure stretched upon the bed. 
 
 "Ah! Hector, if you wished," she stammered, hur- 
 riedly, scarce realizing what she was saying : " And 
 yet if you wished " 
 
 " What?" demanded De Vrissac, in surprise. 
 
 " There is another way, perhaps. " 
 
 And it is not impossible that she might have indi- 
 cated the door of the chamber which she had declared 
 was in ruins, had not Dame Brigitte risen resolutely 
 from her chair and interrupted her with authority : 
 
 " No, my child, there is no other. Come, Monsieur 
 Hector, this is your way, and I will go with you to the 
 garden gate. " 
 
 Two bright-red spots were burning in Gabrielle's 
 cheeks, and she was trembling like a leaf. 
 
 It is not strange that the vicomte misunderstood the 
 cause of her agitation and believed that in the hour of 
 danger her heart had turned toward him. 
 
 He took both her hands in his, and, bending forward, 
 touched his lips to her forehead, a caress which Gabri- 
 elle did not resist, if indeed she were fully aware of it. 
 
 "Farewell," he said. **I shall never forget this 
 moment." 
 
 "Wait! wait!" said Gabrielle, feverishly, still re- 
 taining his hands. And then fixing her eyes, with a 
 world of meaning in their depths, upon her nurse, 
 added, " It must be ! It must be !" 
 
 "Yes, my child, it must be," replied Dame Brigitte, 
 separating their hands. "There is no other course 
 open. Come, monsieur."
 
 336 A GENTLEMAN PROM GASCONY. 
 
 After one long look into his cousin's face, the vicomte 
 followed Brigitte to the window, and commenced de- 
 scending the flight of steps to the garden. 
 
 Gabrielle hastened after them and, leaning against 
 the side of the window, watched their descent. 
 
 " May God guard you!" she cried. And then mur- 
 mured low to herself: "And may He judge whether 
 or no I have done my duty. I I do not know!" 
 
 As she stood there, watching breathlessly the two 
 figures making their way cautiously across the garden, 
 the door of the room, the entrance to which she had 
 forbidden her cousin, slowly opened, and Raoul de 
 Puycadere appeared upon the threshold. 
 
 He was very pale and evidently very weak, for he 
 supported himself by the various pieces of furniture as 
 he slowly advanced into the room. 
 
 It was now almost daylight, and it was with ever in- 
 creasing surprise that he contemplated his unfamiliar 
 surroundings. 
 
 Gabrielle he did not see, as she was hidden from him 
 by the curtains of the window. 
 
 But it chanced that in his progress his foot struck 
 against a low footstool, and Mademoiselle de Vrissac, 
 startled at the noise, emerged from her concealment. 
 
 For the first time since they had plighted their troth, 
 'he lovers were alone together. 
 
 But under what different circumstances! What an 
 abyss now yawned between them ! 
 
 " Gabrielle!" breathed Raoul, scarce daring to believe 
 his senses. " Gabrielle, or is it her spirit?" 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac tried to speak, but the words 
 would not come. 
 
 She had hoped to avoid this, but fate was against 
 her
 
 TWIXT HAMMER AND ANVIL. a$f 
 
 Raoul dashed his hand across his eyes. 
 
 "Ah, I remember now," he said. "The travelling 
 carriage. The brigands! The fight! We were four 
 to one ! I received a pike thrust through my shoulder. 
 You you were in the carriage! And then, the woman 
 leaning over me, giving me to drink! For the mo- 
 ment I thought I had opened my eyes in Paradise, for 
 they rested upon the heaven of your face. And it was 
 no dream? You are there, there before me " 
 
 "Hush, no more, I implore you!" murmured Gabri- 
 elle, interrupting him with a gesture full of piteous en- 
 treaty. "You are out of danger. Ask no more, but 
 leave this house." 
 
 " Leave this house!" 
 
 " Ah, do not argue. I " 
 
 "Gabrielle!" 
 
 He advanced toward her, his eyes aflame with love 
 and longing, but, with a quick motion she avoided him, 
 and fled to the other side of the table, as if to make the 
 senseless piece of wood a barrier between them. 
 
 "Do not touch me!" she cried, pantingly. "You 
 must not touch me ! There is blood upon your hands, 
 Raoul de Puycadere, and it is the blood of my kindred." 
 
 With a low cry of unutterable anguish, the chevalier 
 buried his face in his hand. 
 
 Then almost immediately he raised his head, and 
 spoke rapidly, indignantly, and with an increasing and 
 passionate vehemence. 
 
 " You wrong me, Gabrielle ! Paul de Bassompierre 
 died in fair fight, weapon to weapon, and man to man! 
 The quarrel was none of my seeking, and my cause was 
 just." 
 
 " But you killed him ! And that has placed between 
 us an impassable river of blood. Leave me! It is
 
 338 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 ended! I am dead to this world. Shortly I shall be the 
 bride of heaven." 
 
 Raoul listened in horrified incredulity. 
 
 "The convent?" he gasped. 
 
 She bowed her head in silence. 
 
 "You will die to this world because there crossed 
 your path a wretch such as I ! No ! no ! It cannot be ! 
 It shall not be ! Not the bride of heaven, Gabrielle, 
 but mine! mine!" 
 
 She gave him one passionately mournful look. 
 
 "Yours! Are you mad? The duchess would curse 
 me! I should curse myself! It would be sacrilege!" 
 
 "Sacrilege!" 
 
 " Yes, upon the altar steps between us would stand a 
 spectre the spectre of the man you have killed!" 
 
 Every word she spoke was like a bullet in his heart. 
 A bullet? No, a bullet is merciful a bullet kills. 
 And he, while suffering all the agonies of death, still 
 lived. 
 
 But he would not relinquish her, not at least without 
 being heard. 
 
 "Gabrielle, you are wrong! Wrong! Listen to me!" 
 
 "In mercy!" 
 
 But it was useless to attempt to stop him now. He 
 had but one thought to win her to him. So, in a 
 hoarse whisper, in the low, quick accents of a desperate 
 man, he pleaded his cause: 
 
 " I must speak speak though I die. Since the day 
 we met at Saint-Germain, I loved you, Gabrielle, and 
 when I heard your voice and looked upon your face, I 
 saw the light, yes, the light for the first time my wild 
 and careless past rolled suddenly away, like the trail of 
 a storm when the sun rises in its glory. A new hope, 
 a new ambition, a new life opened itself before me. I
 
 'TWIXT HAMMER AND ANVIL. 339 
 
 was another man, changed and purified. For I loved 
 and I Iffve .'" 
 
 Gabrielle had listened like one in a dream. Raoul had 
 gradually approached, and as he finished he seized her 
 hand, but, with a shiver, she drew it slowly from him. 
 
 Half mad with the intensity of his passion, he sank at 
 her feet. 
 
 " If it is happiness for a woman to know herself be- 
 loved," he continued, his voice sinking almost to a whis- 
 per, " to know that in a cold and selfish world there 
 still exists a human heart that beats for her alone, a 
 heart all hers, a heart into which, without fear, she 
 might pour her own, her hopes, her fears, her griefs, 
 her joys " 
 
 " Oh, this is cruel, " murmured Gabrielle. She longed 
 to wrest her robe from his grasp, to fly anywhere any- 
 where to escape the martyrdom she was undergoing. 
 But, as if bound by a spell, she felt it impossible to 
 move hand or foot. 
 
 "I love you, Gabrielle, and such a heart is mine," 
 went on the imploring voice, so bitter-sweet to her ears. 
 " You are my fate, my destiny ! Gabrielle, Gabrielle, 
 have pity on me! With your love, I am all; without 
 your love, I am nothing!" 
 
 His voice ceased, and for an instant there reigned an 
 intense silence. 
 
 Then Gabrielle drew a long, shuddering breath, and 
 with an effort released her dress from the chevalier's 
 now unresisting hold. 
 
 " It cannot be," she sighed, faintly. " There is a ton* 
 between us." 
 
 Raoul sprang to his feet with a bitter cry. 
 
 " A tomb that shall have two tenants, then, for I will 
 not live without you."
 
 340 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 Had he but known it, however, he was nearer win- 
 ning his cause than it seemed ; and had he been aught 
 else than her lover, he would have seen that Gabrielle 
 still loved him. For, save to the eyes of the interested 
 parties, whom Cupid delights in blinding, love is of 
 such a peculiar nature that it cannot be hidden where 
 ,t is, nor feigned where it is not. 
 
 But just at that moment came through the open 
 window the sound of shouts and tumult, not far dis- 
 tant. 
 
 In an instant Gabrielle took alarm, and she awoke to 
 the fact that danger was near. 
 
 The noise must mean that the vicomte was discov- 
 ered, pursued perhaps. He might return at any mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "Quick, you must away at once!" she said to Raoul, 
 grasping him by the arm, and startling him with her 
 vehemence. " Do you hear that clamor? Do you know 
 what it means? My cousin the vicomte was here but 
 now. He is flying for his life, and he has been discov- 
 ered. The Huguenots were victorious at La Rochelle. " 
 
 At another time the chevalier would have rejoiced 
 greatly at this intelligence, but now the words conveyed 
 scarcely any meaning to his brain. 
 
 " If he returns and finds you here, he will kill you. 
 He has sworn it." 
 
 Raoul smiled slightly, but remained immovable, 
 with his arms folded. 
 
 "Ah! I understand," proceeded Gabrielle feverishly. 
 " But you are weak, wounded. You are no match for 
 him now. Your horse is in the stable. Descend from 
 the room there, and it is to your right. Do you not 
 hear me? Go! Raoul!" and her voice rose almost to a 
 shriek. " For your own sake ! For mine /"
 
 'TWIXT HAMMER AND ANVIL. 34! 
 
 Raoul started, his whole face irradiated with joy. 
 
 " For yours! Ah! you love me then!" 
 
 And he sprang toward her and encircled her with his 
 arms. 
 
 "Do not turn away," he continued with passionate 
 ardor. " But let your eyes look into mine, thus! thus! 
 and tell me that you love me. Speak, Gabrielle! tell 
 me that you love me, and earth has nothing left to offer, 
 heaven nothing more to give!" 
 
 Gabrielle in the soft intoxication of the moment had 
 allowed her head to droop upon his breast. 
 
 " I love you," she murmured, " but go!" 
 
 He strained her to him, raining kisses upon her eyes, 
 her forehead, her hair. 
 
 " I obey," he said finally, releasing her. " But I shall 
 see you soon again. " 
 
 "Yes, yes! Go! go!" she murmured faintly. 
 
 In another moment she was alone. 
 
 But not for long. Raoul had scarcely disappeared 
 when the sound of footsteps was heard ascending the 
 flight of steps without, and shortly Dame Brigitte, with 
 flushed face, came hurrying through the window. 
 
 "Gabrielle! Gabrielle!" she exclaimed panting and 
 out of breath. "Your cousin was discovered, but he 
 lias escaped." 
 
 The strain upon heart and brain had been too great 
 
 Gabrielle tottered forward, and fell into the nurse's 
 arms white, inert, unconscious. 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 
 
 " WILL you give me a chamber with a balcony over* 
 looking the square?" 
 
 "Impossible, monsieur. I have only two small 
 rooms over the stable. " 
 
 " Over the stable? You are jesting, madame. " 
 
 " Nothing could be truer. If monsieur does not wish 
 one of those, he must go elsewhere. " 
 
 "Elsewhere? Mordiou! have you no better treat- 
 ment for an old friend, madame?" 
 
 And the man who had reined in his horse in front of 
 the hostelry of the Rising Sun quickly threw back the 
 brim of the hat which had shaded his face and rendered 
 the features unrecognizable in the deep shadows of the 
 late afternoon. 
 
 " For the love of the Madonna, Monsieur le Chevalier, 
 is it you?" 
 
 And Rose Goujon's pretty face sparkled for a moment 
 with delight, only to be overshadowed the next instant 
 with an expression of alarm. 
 
 She ran down the steps of the inn and came close to 
 the chevalier's saddle. 
 
 " Are you mad to come here, monsieur?" she asked, 
 in a frightened whisper. 
 
 "Never saner in my life, my dear Madame Rose. 
 Was I wrong to suppose that an old friend would give 
 rce shelter?"
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 843 
 
 " No, no, it is not that. But do you not know there 
 is a price upon your head? Even now " 
 
 " It would be even more dangerous for me to enter 
 Paris before nightfall. And there is no other place 
 where I can find shelter." 
 
 "Dismount, then, monsieur. Dismount at once! 
 Here! Pierre! Jean! Take the gentleman's horse!" 
 
 Speranza was led away, and the chevalier followed 
 Madame Goujon into the inn. 
 
 With a word or two counselling caution, the little 
 landlady led the way up a flight of stairs to the second 
 story and then down a long corridor, at the very end of 
 which she threw open a door and bade her guest enter. 
 
 The room in which the chevalier found himself was 
 large and better furnished than the majority of apart- 
 ments even in auberges of the better class. Many femi- 
 nine articles scattered about showed that it had been 
 lately occupied by a woman. 
 
 Rose, who had entered also and closed the door with 
 care behind her, said with a blush : 
 
 " This is my room, Monsieur le Chevalier. It is the 
 only one I have empty in the house. And, besides, you 
 will be safer here than anywhere else. But I hoped you 
 were far away. What has brought you into danger?" 
 
 " My duty, my dear madame." 
 
 " But if you are discovered, your life will be the for- 
 feit." 
 
 "Mordiou! I must take the risk," he replied, with 
 something of his old-time insouciance. " For those who 
 set too great a store upon it, life is like one of those 
 precious objects which are never used for fear that some 
 harm may come to them. But it is ten days since I 
 have been here. What news in Paris?" 
 
 " None. All is quiet, now. But there was a great
 
 244 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 hue and cry after your escape, monsieur. And oh!** 
 clasping her hands nervously, "I was so alarmed for 
 you!" 
 
 " My good friend ! Without your aid in the begin- 
 ning, I could have accomplished nothing. And your 
 excellent husband, whose particular enmity I seem tc 
 have incurred what of him?" 
 
 Madame Rose's lip curled, and she made a gesture oi 
 anger and disgust. 
 
 " Not a sign have I seen of him until last night, when 
 he came here, a wine-butt as usual and pale with fright, 
 declaring that some demon with fiery red hair had pur- 
 sued him through the streets." 
 
 The chevalier laughed heartily. 
 
 "A scalded cat dreads cold water," he said, recogniz- 
 ing some mischievous trick played upon the sergeant by 
 his friend Pharos. 
 
 "That was nothing to what he received from me," 
 observed Rose, laughing a little too. " By the beard of 
 St. Bridget ! to use his own expression, he passed a very 
 bad quarter of an hour, I can assure you. But," inter- 
 rupting herself, with her finger upon her lips, " mon- 
 sieur must be cautious. Goujon is in the house now, 
 and and " 
 
 " Have no fear. I will run no unnecessary risks. 
 As soon as it is entirely dark, I trust to you to let me 
 know when the road is clear, that I may proceed to 
 Paris." 
 
 " Ay, that will I do. I will have eyes and ears on all 
 sides of my head. But monsieur needs refreshment. 
 Remain quietly here, and I will be back as quickly as 
 possible. " 
 
 And the good little woman bustled away, on hospita- 
 ble thoughts intent
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 45 
 
 After the chevalier had left the presence of Gabri- 
 elle (at her command) a bird of rare melody was singing 
 in his heart. She loved him still, and, that being the 
 case, all barriers between them would soon be removed. 
 
 He descended the outer staircase and experienced no 
 difficulty in finding the stable, where Speranza neighed 
 joyfully at his approach. 
 
 Not a living soul was about, but it was the work of 
 only a few moments to saddle and bridle the mare. He 
 vaulted upon her back, and was soon out of the grounds 
 and galloping along the highway. 
 
 That day he proceeded no further than Seuil, where 
 he also passed the ensuing night. 
 
 The little village was in a state of uproarious excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Fragmentary detachments of the royal troops had 
 passed through there that day, hotly pursued by the 
 Huguenots. 
 
 In the evening there were bonfires and illuminations 
 in celebration of the victory, and all the inhabitants 
 seemed to go mad with enthusiasm. 
 
 Tongues were loosened. All loyalty to the king of 
 France was thrown to the winds, and on every side were 
 heard denunciations of "the Italian woman," the Duke 
 of Guise, and the king himself. 
 
 Truly, the wish of Charles IX. had not come to pass. 
 " Kill, if you like, but let not a Huguenot be left to re- 
 proach me. " 
 
 The following day the chevalier resumed his jour- 
 ney, but not by the road he had previously taken. This 
 would not be safe, should further troops be sent to en- 
 force obedience from the rebellious citizens of La Ro- 
 chelle, as was not at all improbable. 
 
 Therefore he took a more northern course, through
 
 940 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 Anjou and Maine. His wound still troubled him some- 
 what, so he proceeded by easy stages, the journey occu- 
 pying some five or six days, and, as we have seen, 
 finally reached Saint Germain, where he decided to 
 avail himself of the kindness of Madame Rose until 
 he could enter Paris under cover of the darkness. 
 
 The little landlady was not long in returning with a 
 tempting meal, the odors of which were like incense in 
 the nostrils of the hungry chevalier. 
 
 "Mordiou, Madame Rose," he said, with a laugh. 
 " You must be the ruin of all innkeepers if you treat 
 your other guests as you do me. You should have the 
 whole custom of the countryside, though, by my faith, 
 a sight of your face would be meat and drink to most 
 men. " 
 
 Madame Rose blushed and bridled. She was suscep- 
 tible enough to compliments, but words of praise from 
 the young Gascon who had so taken her fancy were es- 
 pecially sweet in her ears. Besides she had been of 
 service to him, and while the recipient of a favor al- 
 most always is inclined to look upon his benefactor with 
 a certain impatient feeling, born of the sense of obliga- 
 tion, there is generally inspired in us a decided senti- 
 ment of tenderness toward those we have benefited. 
 
 Moreover, as a maiden, Rose had had her dreams, 
 dreams woefully shattered by the reality of her own mar- 
 ried life, and Raoul de Puycadere both in person and 
 character fulfilled all her ideas of a hero of romance. 
 
 She turned the subject, however, by saying: 
 
 " The gypsies were here yesterday, and I asked Mirza 
 of you. She told me of your escape from the Chatelet 
 and of your departure from Paris." 
 
 " Mirza ! She and her tribe have been good friends 
 to me.
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 247 
 
 " And you must return to Paris to-night?" 
 
 " Beyond any doubt." 
 
 "Then Goujon remains here, if I can make him!" 
 And she looked quite capable of carrying out her deter- 
 mination. 
 
 After the chevalier had finished his repast, Madame 
 Goujon gathered together the remnants and removed 
 them from the room, first warning him to keep close 
 and on no account to leave his place of concealment 
 until she should summon him. 
 
 After Madame Goujon had disappeared, leaving be- 
 hind, however, a bottle of good wine as a consolation, 
 Raoul gave himself up to his reflections, which were 
 not altogether disagreeable ones. He was by no means 
 blind to the danger of his position, and he was not quite 
 sure how he was to escape from his complications, even 
 with the aid of the friendship of the King of Navarre. 
 But that he would conquer in the end, he was resolved. 
 Gabrielle loved him, loved him in spite of all, and, 
 with this star of hope shining brightly before him, what 
 could he not accomplish? Then his mind turned to- 
 ward Master Pare, whose brief enigmatical utterances 
 in the basement of the unfinished house the last night 
 he was in Paris seemed to promise so much. And yet 
 what could he do in a case where Henri de Bourbon 
 was powerless? Had he, as the king's physician, and 
 in high favor with his Majesty, and, what was of more 
 moment, with the power behind the throne, with the 
 queen-mother, some secret information which 
 
 At this point in his musing, the chevalier suddenly 
 became aware of voices in heated altercation in the next 
 room, between which and the apartment he was in was 
 a connecting door. Distinctly to his ears came the 
 words:
 
 248 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " It is a dangerous business, monseigneur, and, should 
 it succeed, I claim my reward. " 
 
 The voice was a familiar, one to De Puycadere, and 
 in an instant it flashed across him that the speaker was 
 the Vicomte de Vrissac. 
 
 So! Gabrielle was mistaken, after all. Her cousin 
 had not been pursued, or, at all events, not captured, 
 and had managed to make his escape. 
 
 Raoul left his chair, and made his way stealthily 
 across the floor to the door, which was apparently of no 
 great thickness, as he could hear almost every syllable 
 that was spoken in the adjoining room, low as the words 
 were uttered. As he reached the place, another person 
 was speaking. 
 
 " You need have no fear, Monsieur le Vicomte. The 
 king will recognize your services, and they are inesti- 
 mable to church and state." 
 
 Raoul started. Where had he heard that voice be- 
 fore, and in tones of command? 
 
 " All that I need, monseigneur, is your warranty. " 
 
 " You have that, and you shall have more. I do not 
 disguise from you, Monsieur le Vicomte, th&t the fail- 
 ure to subdue the rebels at La Rochelle is a blow to our 
 cause, but it is only temporary. The accursed heretics 
 will be subdued, when this, their leader, is silenced. 
 It was a mistake to spare him at Saint Bartholomew, 
 but, with your aid, that mistake will soon be rectified. 
 Coligny is gone, and to-night the Prince of Be"arn will 
 also be removed." 
 
 Raoul recognized the voice. It was that of the leader 
 of Saint Bartholomew. He had heard it last at the 
 house of Admiral Coligny on the night of the massacre. 
 The speaker was the Duke of Guise. 
 
 The discovery was a startling one to the chevalier,
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 349 
 
 especially as, judging from the few words he had caught, 
 some plot was on foot against his master, the King 
 of Navarre. 
 
 He pressed his ear closer to the panels, and listened 
 intently, all his senses on the alert. 
 
 "You are sure, monseigneur," said the vicomte, 
 " that to-night the so-called King of Navarre will be 
 in the chamber of Queen Marguerite?" 
 
 " Sure, unless some unfortunate contretemps should 
 occur. The two letters are perfect specimens of their 
 kind, the handwriting has been imitated perfectly. He 
 will be alone, and, if your companions are trusty, your 
 task should be an easy one. " 
 
 " I will answer for them. Is King Charles cognizant 
 of our plan?" 
 
 " No. But" and there was a world of meaning in the 
 emphasis the Duke placed upon that little word "But 
 Catherine de Medicis is. In proof of which her Majesty 
 requested me to give you this ring. Present it to her 
 afterward, and ask any favor you desire. " 
 
 " Has your grace any further orders?" And there 
 was a ring gratified triumph in the tone in which the 
 vicomte asked the question. 
 
 " None ! Stay ! In case aught should miscarry, meet 
 me to-night beneath the apartments of the Queen of 
 Navarre at ten of the clock. You know the place?" 
 
 " Beyond the moat, near the northern gate?" 
 
 " Exactly. Then, if 
 
 At this point, the chevalier, whose whole attention 
 had been absorbed by the conversation, was startled by 
 the sudden opening of the other door of the room he 
 was in, the one which led into the corridor. 
 
 He raised his head quickly, but, as he did so, his foot 
 slipped upon the smooth, polished floor, and he stum-
 
 350 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 bled with a resounding noise against the panels of the 
 door at which he had been listening. 
 
 For an instant there was silence, and then there was 
 a rush of feet, and the door was roughly shaken on the 
 other side. 
 
 "Quick! quick, monsieur! Hide here!" whispered 
 Rose Goujon, for it was she whose entrance had inter- 
 rupted the chevalier's eavesdropping. 
 
 As she spoke, she flung open the door of a wardrobe. 
 
 The chevalier obeyed without a word, believing in 
 this case discretion to be the better part of valor. 
 
 No sooner was he safely hidden, than Rose ran to the 
 door, which was still being pounded upon, and, unbar- 
 ring it, flung it open, revealing the angry and alarmed 
 countenances of the Duke de Guise and the Vicomte de 
 Vrissac. 
 
 Both gentlemen looked with astonishment and also 
 with evident relief upon the smiling face of the little 
 landlady. 
 
 " You !" 
 
 " I, gentlemen. Pardon me for startling you, but this 
 floor was polished only this morning and I stumbled." 
 
 " How long have you been in this room?" asked the 
 Duke de Guise, whose suspicions were not wholly 
 allayed. 
 
 "Not three minutes, monseigneur, " replied Rose, 
 truthfully. 
 
 "And there is no one else here?" demanded the 
 yicomte, advancing a step or two into the room. 
 
 Rose looked at him with admirably simulated indig- 
 nation. 
 
 "Would you insult me, Monsieur le Vicomte? This 
 is my own chamber, and no one would dare to enter 
 here, not even Goujon himself."
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 351 
 
 The duke glanced at her keenly, nodded his head, 
 and then, turning to his companion, said in Spanish : 
 
 " She is speaking the truth. She knows nothing. " 
 
 " But, " he added, in French, as he turned to leave the 
 room, " beware of curiosity, madame. The first woman 
 lost humanity because she wanted to know what it was 
 forbidden her to know. " 
 
 " I have no curiosity for matters that do not concern 
 me, monseigneur. " 
 
 The two conspirators returned to the next room, and 
 Rose, with a sigh of relief, closed and barred the door. 
 
 Then she hastened to release the chevalier from the 
 wardrobe. 
 
 "Now is your time, monsieur," she said. "Your 
 horse is ready in the passage behind the house. But 
 one word of warning before you go. My husband has 
 given me the slip. He went to the stables an hour ago, 
 ordered a horse saddled, and the hostler said he rode 
 away in the direction of Paris. Whether he has any 
 suspicion of your presence here or not, I do not know. 
 But be on your guard. Do not expose yourself." 
 
 " I will remember. " 
 
 "And there is another thing I will remember also," 
 he muttered beneath his breath, as he glanced toward 
 the door which separated him from the duke and the 
 vicomte. " So, Monseigneur de Guise, you would plot 
 against Henri of Navarre, would you? But you have 
 not taken me into your reckoning, and there will be aa 
 unbidden guest at your rendezvous to-night!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BELOW THE QUEEN *S BALCONY. 
 
 A COLD drizzling rain, blurring the outlines of trees 
 and buildings, was falling when the chevalier rode 
 slowly into Paris, past the sentinels at the Saint An- 
 toine gate. 
 
 He had ridden only a few paces beyond the gateway, 
 when the bell from a neighboring tower tolled the 
 hour of nine. It wanted an hour yet before the time 
 appointed by the conspirators for their rendezvous, but 
 it behooved Raoul to be concealed somewhere near be- 
 fore they could arrive. 
 
 He must overhear their conversation and know all the 
 details of the plot, in order the better to frustrate it. 
 
 He was just about to put the spur to Speranza, when 
 out of the shadow of a house close by darted a dark 
 figure and laid its hand on the horse's bridle. 
 
 Raoul was about to strike the intruder over the head 
 with his riding-whip, when a few words spoken in a 
 low voice caused him to change his intention. 
 
 " Hist! Is it you, Monsieur le Chevalier!" 
 
 And looking down he recognized, in spite of the dark- 
 ness, the form of Mirza, the gypsy girl, standing close 
 at his side. 
 
 " Mirza?" 
 
 "Ah! it is you," she exclaimed, joyfully, but without 
 raising her voice. " For two days, Pharos and I have 
 kept watch for you as near the gate as we dared. "
 
 BELOW THE QUEEN 's BALCONY. 253 
 
 "What's in the wind?" asked Raoul quickly, scenting 
 danger. 
 
 " You must not go to the Green Dragon, monsieur." 
 
 " Why not?" 
 
 " Beppa is suspected of giving you shelter, and the 
 house is watched. It's that wretch Goujon's doing." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " We have arranged it all, monsieur Pharos and I. 
 You must come with us at once. " 
 
 "Impossible," said the chevalier, remembering all 
 that he had to do that night. 
 
 " Impossible?" 
 
 " Yes. I must to the Louvre without delay. It is a 
 matter of life and death. " 
 
 As he spoke, he remembered that he could not ride 
 his horse to the Louvre and hope to remain concealed. 
 
 Leaping from Speranza's back, he addressed Pharos, 
 who still remained at the mare's head: 
 
 " My good friend, will you take care of this animal 
 for me till I need her again and and if aught should 
 happen to me this night, keep her in remembrance of 
 me." 
 
 " Monsieur, you are incurring danger again?" asked 
 Mirza, in a trembling voice. 
 
 " In these days, one is always in danger, " returned 
 the chevalier, lightly. "And now away, my friend!" 
 
 Without a word, Pharos vaulted into the saddle, and 
 in another moment both horse and man had disappeared 
 around a neighboring corner. 
 
 The chevalier turned to move away also, but Mirza 
 detained him. 
 
 "Only one moment, monsieur. You do not know 
 where to find us. " 
 
 "Ah, true! Well?"
 
 254 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " Come to the Rue du Moulin, close to the Passage 
 des Rois. Come at any time during the night or day, 
 and some one of us will be on the watch to guide you. " 
 
 "Thanks. I shall remember." 
 
 And again Raoul started to go. 
 
 " But, monsieur, I have news for you. News of 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac. " 
 
 The chevalier stopped short. Even the important 
 business he had on hand must be deferred at the magic 
 of that name. 
 
 " News news of her !" he cried, eagerly. " Speak ! 
 speak, Mirza." 
 
 " She has returned to Paris." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "Yesterday, while on the lookout for you, I saw a 
 travelling carriage pass through the gate yonder, and 
 within was mademoiselle. " 
 
 Raoul breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving that 
 she was no longer in that country of the South, racked 
 as it was by civil war. 
 
 " Was she alone?" he asked. 
 
 " No. Her duenna was with her." 
 
 " No one else?" 
 
 " No one else, monsieur. " 
 
 Then the vicomte had not returned with her, and 
 this was balm to the chevalier's jealous heart. 
 
 " Listen, Mirza," he said, rapidly. " If all goes well, 
 I shall be with you by midnight, and to-morrow I must 
 see her. Watch for me, find out if possible when she is 
 alone, and how I can approach her. Will you do this?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, yes. Good-night, and God speed 
 you!" 
 
 And the Tzigana flitted away, and was soon lost in 
 the mist
 
 BELOW THE QUEEN *S BALCONY. 155 
 
 Raoul wrapped his cloak well about him and strode 
 away toward the Louvre. After a quarter of an hour's 
 rapid walking the palace loomed up before him, a 
 blurred indistinct mass, through the fog. 
 
 It had ceased raining, and the moon was making a 
 first feeble attempt to struggle through the clouds. 
 
 " Beneath the apartments of the Queen of Navarre," 
 the Duke of Guise had said. 
 
 And the vicomte had described these apartments as 
 beyond the moat near the northern gate. 
 
 Raoul made his way about the building until he came 
 to the gate designated. 
 
 A sentinel was there, pacing back and forth. 
 
 How to pass him? 
 
 Suddenly a window was thrown up in the little 
 guard-house and some one called: "Maury!" 
 
 The sentinel approached the window and looked in, 
 his back to Raoul. The latter was quick to see his op- 
 portunity, and, slipping noiselessly past the sentry, he 
 entered the gate and crept cautiously along in the 
 shadow of the palace walls. 
 
 The whole vast facade was in darkness, save where a 
 light burned dimly in one balconied window. 
 
 This must be the place. 
 
 But how to hide? The moon was now out, and its 
 clear rays were illuminating more and more brilliantly 
 the scene. 
 
 There was not a nook capable of offering concealment. 
 
 Beneath the queen's balcony was a moat some ten 
 feet wide and filled with water. This was flanked, on 
 the side where Raoul was standing, by a low parapet 
 not more than a foot high. 
 
 While he was considering what to do, the sound of 
 approaching footsteps fell upon his ear.
 
 25^ A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 No more time to waste. Something must be done 
 and at once. 
 
 Raoul glanced over the parapet. On the other side 
 was a descent to the moat of perhaps five feet, and there 
 was a narrow, a very narrow strip of ground between 
 .;ie water and the foot of the wall. 
 
 Placing one hand upon the parapet, he vaulted lightly 
 over, and managed to obtain a footing. 
 
 He was obliged to stoop a little, however, in order to 
 prevent his head appearing above the stone-work. 
 
 He was in shadow and would probably not be dis- 
 covered, unless some prying eye should scrutinize the 
 place too closely. 
 
 The men he had heard coming approached swiftly, 
 and paused just above him. 
 
 " This is the place," said one, in a low tone. " There 
 is the Queen's balcony. But where Is the duke?" 
 
 "Hush! No names!" said another, whose voice the 
 chevalier recognized as that of the Vicomte de Vrissac. 
 " He will be here presently." 
 
 As he spoke, he seated himself on the low parapet, 
 almost immediately above the head of the man crouch- 
 ing below. 
 
 The Gascon scarce dared to breathe for fear of be- 
 traying himself. His position was most uncomfortable, 
 md he wondered how long he should be able to retain 
 it, if the duke should delay. 
 
 This was not the case, however, for it was a very 
 short time before a rapid footstep was heard drawing 
 near. 
 
 The vicomte rose to his feet, advancing a step to 
 meet the new-comer, and Raoul dared to change his 
 position a little. Then he strained his ears in order 
 not to lose a syllable.
 
 3ELOW THE QUEEN'S BALCONY. 257 
 
 "Ah! gentlemen, you are prompt to the rendezvous, " 
 began Guise. "Vicomte, do they know why I have 
 summoned here four trusty swords, as I know theirs to 
 be?" 
 
 " Yes, monseigneur. We are all blindly at your dis- 
 posal, and only await your will." 
 
 "By the beard of Saint Bridget! your grace, we are 
 your faithful subjects." 
 
 Raoul recognized that voice, and thought to himself 
 that he was not surprised that Goujon should be one of 
 the company when any foul deed was to be done, 
 although he would probably, for the sake of his skin, 
 be a looker-on rather than a participant. 
 
 " You will not have long to wait now," said the duke. 
 "The corridors are clear, and I will lead you to the 
 apartment where the cursed Be"arnais is. It will be 
 best for me not to enter, for the sake of the future, much 
 as I should like to give him the coup de grdce myself." 
 
 "You can trust us for that, monseigneur," remarked 
 De Vrissac; "even," and he hesitated a little, "even as 
 we trust you to hold us scatheless and to see that we 
 obtain our just dues in the future." 
 
 "You have my word for that," replied the other, a 
 trifle haughtily. " And if the word of a Guise is not 
 sufficient, you can rely upon the gratitude of one who is 
 higher in power than I am now" 
 
 " That is more than enough. Pardon us, your grace, 
 we did not mean to doubt " 
 
 ' By the corns of Saint Ursula, no!" 
 
 "Enough! enough!" interrupted Guise, impatiently. 
 "We understand one another. Within the half-hour 
 France will be free from her worst curse, the Prince of 
 Be"ara will have ceased to live. Woe to you, if you let 
 him escape your daggers!"
 
 258 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 A shiver of horror and indignation ran over the lis- 
 tening chevalier. So! His suspicions were correct. 
 If there had been any doubt of it before, there was none 
 now. This was a conspiracy to assassinate the King of 
 Navarre. 
 
 "See! He is there!" continued the duke. "Do you 
 see that long, black silhouette against the window? 
 It is our man. No other in Paris has a nose like that. 
 Come ! no ! one moment. Leave one of your men here. 
 When the deed is done, wave your hand from the bal- 
 cony yonder. Then let him come to me with the news 
 at the grand entrance of the Louvre." 
 
 There was a quick command from the vicomte, and 
 then all the men but one moved away on their errand 
 of blood. 
 
 Raoul remained quiet until he was sure that they 
 were out of hearing, and then he raised his head cau- 
 tiously until his eyes were above the parapet. 
 
 Standing with his back toward him was a squat, 
 rotund figure which could be no other than that of the 
 redoubtable Sergeant Goujon. 
 
 At once Raoul' s resolution was taken, and to resolve 
 was to act. First unloosening with quick, nervous fin- 
 gers the scarf he wore about his waist above his sword- 
 belt, he then lifted himself carefully over the parapet. 
 
 With cat-like step he approached the sergeant, but 
 just as he was two paces from him the latter turned. 
 
 With a bound Raoul was upon him and, before he 
 could make any outcry whatever, had caught him by 
 the neck with one hand, and deftly wound the scarf 
 about his mouth with the other, thus effectually gag- 
 ging him. 
 
 Then pushing the terrified man toward the parapet, 
 by main strength he flung him over into the moat beloir.
 
 BELOW THE QUEEN'S BALCONY. 859 
 
 So far, so good ! But the King of Navarre must be 
 warned at once. It was useless to follow the conspira- 
 tors. There was but one way to scale the balcony by 
 means of the thick ivy which clung close to the walls. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation, the Gascon leaped 
 over the parapet and dashed into the water. He could 
 see the sergeant struggling a few yards below him. 
 
 Two or three strokes brought him to the other side. 
 Seizing the ivy, he began to mount, clinging to the 
 branches with hands and feet. 
 
 It was slow and painful work, and he was not more 
 than half-way to the top, when he became aware of the 
 approach of a sentinel on the other side of the moat. 
 
 Shaking the ivy over him, he paused in his ascent 
 and remained motionless. 
 
 The sentinel passed on, and Raoul heard with a sigh 
 of relief some distance away the cry: 
 
 " Half after ten, and all's well!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 "THE KING OF NAVARRE is HERE!" 
 
 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS, Princess of France and Queen 
 of Navarre, was alone in her apartment in the Louvre. 
 
 She had dismissed her ladies of honor, and now was 
 pacing up and down the room, her dark, level brows 
 contracted in thought over her brilliant eyes. 
 
 Very lovely she looked, this star of the court, in her 
 simple robe of violet satin, with no ornaments save a 
 richly jewelled dagger which served to confine the bod- 
 ice of her gown and which had been presented to her 
 by her mother. It was a relic of the great De Medici 
 family of Florence, and, could it have spoken, what 
 strange tales it might have told ! 
 
 Ever and anon she consulted a paper she held in her 
 hand and on which were written these words : 
 
 "I beg you to receive me to-night at ten o'clock 
 alone. I should not so far presume were it not a matter 
 of vast importance on which I wish to consult your 
 Majesty." HENRI OF NAVARRE." 
 
 What could her husband have to say to her to neces- 
 sitate the writing of such a note? Were new plots on 
 foot? 
 
 She knew the queen-mother and the Duke of Guise 
 were his deadly enemies, and nothing was less likely 
 than for them to rest without making further effort to 
 remove the King of Navarre from the vicinity of the
 
 "THE KING OP NAVARRE is HERE!" 261 
 
 King of France, over whom he was rapidly acquiring 
 an influence. 
 
 She had promised her husband to be his ally, and she 
 would keep her word, so far as lay in her power. How 
 gallant he was ! How brave ! How different from the 
 perfumed butterflies of the court! Each day she re- 
 spected and admired him the more. Respect! Ad- 
 miration ! Was it not rather 
 
 But here she checked her thoughts, and the bright 
 color rushed hotly to her beautiful cheeks. Then she 
 laughed aloud. What a subject for the satire of Mon- 
 sieur de Brantome ! What, was the pearl of the court of 
 France, at whose feet had sighed innumerable adorers, 
 about to fall in love with her own husband, and a man 
 too who had confessedly married her for motives of 
 policy? 
 
 It was too absurd. 
 
 And yet why this quickened beating of the heart at 
 the thought of the interview requested of her? 
 
 A low tap upon the door interrupted her reflections. 
 She crossed the room to open it herself and to admit the 
 very man she had been thinking of. 
 
 There was a happy look in the King of Navarre's 
 eyes and a smile played about his thin lips. 
 
 " May I enter?" 
 
 " Why not? It is your Majesty's right." 
 
 " A right that I should never seek to enforce without 
 your permission. " 
 
 " If that is all that is required, enter freely, sire." 
 
 The king crossed the threshold of his wife's apart- 
 ment for the first time, and closed the door behind him. 
 
 " Your Majesty looks happy to-night!" observed Mar- 
 guerite, a little embarrassed, and, wondering more than 
 ever what the coming interview might portend.
 
 2 6l A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "And well I might, madame. Where think you I 
 have been to-night?" 
 
 " How should I know?" 
 
 Henri's brow clouded a little. 
 
 " True !" he said, with just a suspicion of reproach in 
 his tone. " You would be the last to know of my goings 
 and comings, and perhaps even to be interested in 
 them. " 
 
 "You wrong me, sire." 
 
 " So! Then I will tell you. To consult RneV' 
 
 " My mother's astrologer?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 " And what did he say? Did he cast your horoscope?" 
 
 "Yes. And told me many things. First, the least 
 important, to me if not to others. " 
 
 " And that?" 
 
 " That I should one day be King of France." 
 
 " Should you survive my brothers you would neces- 
 sarily be that, both by human and divine law." 
 
 Henri's lips curved in a peculiar smile. 
 
 "Humph!" he said. " Perhaps by cannon law. " And 
 then added quickly: "Pardon me, I should not have 
 said that." 
 
 "Why not? I am no child. In the due course of 
 events, should heaven spare your life, you may have to 
 fight for the throne, but your Majesty's ability will 
 surely bring you success." 
 
 "I don't know," he rejoined thoughtfully. " Talent, 
 genius even are only promises. To them must be joined 
 a lucky star. When that fails, all fails." 
 
 "Let us pray that you were born under one, sire. 
 But what else did Master Re'ne' predict to you?" 
 
 The King of Navarre bent his eyes scrutinizingly 
 upon his wife.
 
 *THE KING OF NAVARRE IS HERE]** 263 
 
 "Much," he said. "But, before I tell you, inform 
 me why you have requested my presence here to-night." 
 
 Marguerite started, and looked at him in astonishment. 
 
 " I requested your presence?" she repeated. " On the 
 contrary it was you who asked permission to come 
 here. See ! Here is your note. " 
 
 And she gave him the slip of paper she still held in 
 her hand. 
 
 As Henri glanced over it, it was his turn to be 
 astounded. 
 
 " I do not understand," he said, slowly. *' I received 
 this from you this evening." 
 
 And drawing another letter from the pouch which 
 hung at his belt, he handed it to her. 
 
 The paper contained these words: 
 
 *' The Queen of Navarre requests the presence of her 
 husband in her apartments at ten of the clock. " 
 
 "I never wrote that," cried Marguerite, as she read 
 the words. 
 
 " Nor did I write that," returned the King of Navarre, 
 indicating the epistle signed by his name. 
 
 Marguerite started to her feet. 
 
 "Oh! Henri, this is some plot!" she exclaimed, fixing 
 upon her husband her lovely, dark eyes, full of a vague 
 fear. 
 
 "Nonsense!" laughed the King of Navarre, after a 
 moment's reflection. " More likely it is some trick of 
 one of your mischievous maids of honor, a trick, ma 
 foi, which I am only too willing to forgive. Well, 
 since I am here, may I remain a few moments? I will 
 be as entertaining as I can. " 
 
 "As your Majesty pleases," replied Marguerite, sink- 
 ing down upon a sofa, although her fears were only 
 partially allayed.
 
 264 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCON*. 
 
 The king placed himself beside her. 
 
 For a few moments, nothing was said. Although 
 Marguerite's eyes were lowered, she could feel that her 
 husband was gazing intently at her. 
 
 At last, when the silence was becoming almost un- 
 oearable to her, Henri spoke. 
 
 "Madame," he began, slowly, "whatever many per- 
 sons may have said, I think that our marriage is a good 
 marriage. I stand well with you, you stand well with 
 me." 
 
 He paused, as if waiting for a response. Marguerite, 
 who was toying nervously with the hilt of the dagger 
 which confined her dress, was decidedly embarrassed. 
 She scarcely knew what this preamble meant, but she 
 managed to say: 
 
 " Ydu know, sire, that you have my friendship. " 
 
 "Friendship! Ventre-Saint-Gris!" ejaculated the 
 king, with a scornful gesture. "What is friendship? 
 A duet in which both voices ring false. No! no! 
 What I want is something more than friendship. " 
 
 As he said these words, he took her hand, which 
 Marguerite did not withdraw. Confident now of the 
 ground on which she stood, she was fast recovering her 
 self-possession. 
 
 " Well, what do you say?" he continued. 
 
 " Say?" she replied, smiling " I say that your Majesty 
 is an enigma." 
 
 "An enigma! So are all men. But, mordi! Mar- 
 guerite, if men are enigmas, women are two. " 
 
 Marguerite laughed outright. 
 
 " A compliment to our sex, sire, which I scarcely ex- 
 pected from you." 
 
 Henri laughed too. 
 
 " Since my marriage I have learned wisdom. But a
 
 "THE KING of NAVARRE is HERE!" 265 
 
 truce to badinage. I told you of other predictions 
 made by the astrologer. There was one in particular 
 which was more interesting to me than all the rest. 
 Can you imagine what it was?" 
 
 "No," replied Marguerite, with admirably assumed 
 carelessness, although her heart was beating much more 
 quickly than was its wont. 
 
 Henri leaned toward her, and spoke in low, pleading 
 tones : 
 
 " He said that one day I should win the love of my 
 wife. " 
 
 Although the Queen of Navarre knew that the pre- 
 diction was already fulfilled, she was too practised a 
 coquette to yield and acknowledge all at once. She 
 preferred to enjoy her triumph and torture him a little 
 first. 
 
 So her only reply was a low silvery laugh. 
 
 Despite the fact that he had a keen intuition into the 
 minds and natures of others, Henri was for once baffled. 
 He could not explain the meaning of that laugh. Was 
 it amusement? incredulity? what? 
 
 At all events it increased his passion twofold, as its 
 cunning author had calculated it would. 
 
 He seized both her hands and drew her close to him, 
 compelling her to turn her face toward him. Her eyes 
 remained persistently lowered, but a bewitching, tanta- 
 lizing smile lingered about the red lips. 
 
 " I love you, Marguerite, I love you," he murmured, 
 ardently. 
 
 Now she did raise her eyes, full of almost childlike 
 wonder. 
 
 " Oh, sire, what are you saying?" 
 
 "The truth, Margot, the truth!" 
 
 She was on the very point of yielding, and confessing
 
 366 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY 
 
 her own secret, when a scrambling noise on the balcony 
 startled them, interrupting the love-making and bring- 
 ing both of them to their feet. 
 
 The next moment a man leaped through the window 
 into the room. 
 
 Marguerite uttered a low cry of alarm, and, with a 
 brow black as night and a muttered curse, Henri strode 
 forward to confront the intruder. 
 
 But the other, doffing his hat and exposing the face 
 of the Chevalier de Puycadere, arrested him with a 
 quick gesture and a breathless exclamation of: 
 
 "Fly, sire, fly! They are coming!" 
 
 44 Monsieur de Puycadere!" cried the king in mingled 
 astonishment and anger. " What means this unseemly 
 intrusion into the queen's apartments? Who are 
 coming?" 
 
 "A band of men to assassinate you." 
 
 The queen turned pale to the lips, but Henri only 
 tittered a scornful ejaculation. 
 
 In as few words as possible, Raoul told all that he 
 knew, and then, turning to Marguerite, added : 
 
 " In the name of heaven, madame, order him to fly!" 
 
 Marguerite darted forward and caught her husband's 
 hand. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Henri, go ! You have already delayed too 
 long! Hark, some one is mounting the staircase. Go! 
 go! For my sake! Henri! for my sake!" 
 
 "For your sake!" 
 
 "For mine! Listen! I love you!" 
 
 Forgetful of the chevalier's presence, the king threw 
 his arms about his wife and pressed his lips to hers. 
 
 At the same moment the door leading into the corri- 
 dor was stealthily tried. 
 
 Raoul sprang forward and pushed to the bolt
 
 "THE KING OF NAVARRE is HERE!" 367 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Marguerite, tearing herself 
 from her husband's arms. 
 
 Instantly the king's expression changed. He was 
 now on the alert, quick to plan, quick to act. 
 
 " Where does that door lead to?" he asked, indicating 
 another than the one which was now being tried again 
 with more force. 
 
 " TO the room of the maids of honor." 
 
 " And it has another exit?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The conspirators had doubtless discovered that the 
 door was bolted and were trying to force it with their 
 shoulders, for the panels were shaken and creaked 
 heavily. 
 
 " There is a detachment of musketeers in the guard 
 room below," said the king. "Time to summon them, 
 and I return. Monsieur le Chevalier, remain! They 
 can scarcely break in before I am here." 
 
 And without further delay, he vanished into the next 
 room. 
 
 " Open! open !" came a voice which Raoul recognized 
 as that of De Vrissac. "Open quickly! There is 
 danger!" 
 
 The queen placed her finger to her lips. 
 
 "Open!" once more came the demand, to which 
 again no answer was returned. Crash! The door 
 shook beneath the shock and the bolt started from its 
 socket. 
 
 Raoul sprang forward, but the queen seized him by 
 the arm. 
 
 " No! no!" she said, in a hurried whisper. " It would 
 be needless bloodshed! Leave all to me! Go there!" 
 
 And before he could remonstrate or resist, she had 
 pushed him behind the aangings of the window.
 
 268 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "I, your queen, command you to remain there!" 
 
 The next instant the door fell inward with a loud 
 noise, and the Vicomte de Vrissac, followed by three 
 others, all with drawn swords, rushed into the chamber. 
 
 They paused and drew back a little, however, as they 
 saw confronting them the solitary figure of the Queen 
 of Navarre. 
 
 Erect and dauntless she faced them, her cheeks flushed 
 and her dark eyes gleaming and glowing like coals of 
 fire. 
 
 " What means this, messieurs?" she demanded haugh- 
 tily. " How dare you thus invade the privacy of a 
 daughter of France?" 
 
 For an instant every man of them felt a thrill of 
 shame and involuntarily doffed his hat. 
 
 But the feeling was only momentary, and the vicomte 
 quickly realized all that was at stake. To retreat now 
 would be ruin. 
 
 He gave a keen glance about the apartment, and then 
 answered, respectfully : 
 
 " Pardon, your Majesty, our impetuosity, but danger 
 threatened the King of Navarre, and " 
 
 The queen's lip curled scornfully. 
 
 " Indeed ! Were the King of Navarre in danger," she 
 interrupted, with the same brave, defiant manner, "he 
 would know how to defend himself, and would scarcely 
 ccept the aid of his avowed enemy. Monsieur de 
 Vrissac. H 
 
 " Your Majesty wrongs me. If " 
 
 " You see, the King of Navarre is not here. Seek 
 him elsewhere." 
 
 The vicomte was beginning to fear that the scheme 
 had miscarried, when his eye fell upon a hat, the feath- 
 ers of which were clasped with a jewelled crown. It
 
 "THE KING OF NAVARRE is HERE!" 269 
 
 lay upon a table where Henri had cast it upon his 
 entrance. 
 
 With a cry of joy, De Vrissac snatched it up. 
 
 " Henri de Bourbon has been here! He is here!" he 
 exclaimed exultantly. "With your Majesty's permis- 
 sion," and there was a covert sneer in the tone, " we will 
 search the room !" 
 
 Raoul de Puycadere had listened with rage and im- 
 patience to the preceding scene. It little suited his 
 temperament to be in hiding thus, and, at the vicomte's 
 threat to search the queen's apartment, his hot Gascon 
 blood got the better of him. 
 
 Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he thrust aside 
 the curtains and stepped forth from his place of con- 
 cealment. 
 
 " For shame ! Monsieur le Vicomte !" he exclaimed 
 angrily. " Before you subject a princess of France to 
 such indignity, you must first reckon with me !" 
 
 For an instant, De Vrissac was thunderstruck at this 
 sudden and unlooked-for apparition of his dearest 
 foe. 
 
 Then an expression of fiendish delight swept across 
 his face. 
 
 Leaning forward with a quick movement, and speak- 
 ing with one claw-like finger extended and a malevo- 
 lent gleam in his eyes, he said: 
 
 "At last we meet, Monsieur le Chevalier, but the 
 saints forbid that I should rob the hangman of his due. 
 Madame," turning to the queen, " we came here expect- 
 ing to find a husband, and we find a lover! If the 
 Prince of Beam " 
 
 But before the sentence could be finished, and before 
 Raoul could make a movement to avenge this insult to 
 his queen, a stern, commanding voice rang out:
 
 270 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " Hold ! Who speaks of the Prince of Be*arn? The 
 King of Navarre is here!" 
 
 In the doorway stood Henri de Bourbon, and behind 
 him some half a score of the king's guards. 
 
 " I am here ! Finish your words, Monsieur le Vicomte, 
 that I may hear them !" 
 
 He advanced into the room, closely followed by the 
 soldiers. 
 
 The other conspirators shrank back in alarm, but De 
 Vrissac, with a snarl like a wolf brought to bay, gave a 
 quick glance around him. 
 
 The musketeers had come forward, and were between 
 him and the chevalier. 
 
 He could not reach him. 
 
 There was one victim before him, however, on whom 
 he might still wreak his vengeance and so fulfil the 
 object for which he had come. 
 
 With uplifted dagger, he rushed upon the King ot 
 Navarre. 
 
 Quick as his movement was, however, there was one 
 who was more swift to think and act than he. 
 
 Marguerite of Valois saw the blade of the deadly 
 weapon gleam over the head of her husband, and, with 
 a lightning-like action, she plucked the poniard from 
 her corsage, and struck the would-be assassin full in the 
 breast. 
 
 Although her attack deflected the vicomte's blow, 
 Henri did not escape wholly unscathed. 
 
 The dagger of De Vrissac struck his lip, drawing 
 blood. 
 
 Simultaneously the soldiers had rushed forward, and 
 the conspirators, including De Vrissac, taken by sur- 
 prise, were in their hands and disarmed, almost before 
 they knew what had happened.
 
 "THE KING OF NAVARRE is HERE!" 271 
 
 Not in the least disconcerted by the attack upon him, 
 Henri wiped the blood from his lips, remarking quietly: 
 
 " I have heard from many mouths that I had enemies 
 in Paris, now I have proof of it from my own. " 
 
 Then, bending upon his wife a look which softened 
 the whole expression of his face, he said in a voice au- 
 dible only to her ears : 
 
 " Sweetheart, you have saved my life ! Hereafter it 
 is yours to do with as you will!" 
 
 But an onlooker would scarcely believe it was the 
 same man who, a second afterward, bent upon the 
 baffled conspirators so stern a gaze. 
 
 " Ventre-Saint-Gris! The next time select a more 
 easy prey. Go ! now ! the whole of you, to the devil !" 
 He paused an inappreciable second, and then bowing, 
 with sarcastic courtesy, added: "Gentlemen, if you 
 please!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 LOVE THE CONQUEROR! 
 
 ONCE more was Raoul de Puycadere in concealment 
 in one of the gypsies' haunts. 
 
 After the frustration of the plot to kill the King of 
 Navarre, for him to have remained in the Louvre would 
 have been more than dangerous. 
 
 Already a price was upon his head, and, when it be- 
 came known to Catherine de Medicis, as undoubtedly 
 it would be, that it was through his intervention that 
 the hated B6arnais was still alive, it scarcely admitted 
 of a doubt but that his capture would be sought with 
 redoubled ardor. 
 
 So, after the removal of the would-be assassins, both 
 Henri de Bourbon and Marguerite de Valois, hereafter 
 his wife in reality as well as in name, were obliged to 
 confess that it would be safer for the chevalier, for the 
 present at least, to seek some other asylum. 
 
 All the next day he had remained hidden, and now 
 the night had come. 
 
 It had been a solitary vigil, and it was with a feeling 
 of relief to have his solitude broken in upon that he 
 hailed the advent of Mirza and Pharos about an hour 
 after sundown. 
 
 " Monsieur le Chevalier, " began the Tzigana, " I 
 promised to keep watch and ward for you, and let you 
 know when there might be a chance for you to see 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac alone. "
 
 LOVE THE CONQUEROR! 973 
 
 "Yes, yes," exclaimed Raoul, eagerly starting to his 
 feet "Goon!" 
 
 " Fifteen minutes ago, she was on the terrace of the 
 gardens of the Hotel de Bassompierre, and " 
 
 Without waiting to hear further, Raoul snatched up 
 his cloak, and, with a hasty farewell, absolutely ran 
 from the place. 
 
 Pharos laughed, but Mirza looked grave. 
 
 "His impetuosity will ruin him," she said, "but we 
 must watch over him. Go at once, Pharos. Summon 
 the tribe. Let them come one by one, and conceal 
 themselves in the duchess' gardens. At all events, if 
 aught goes wrong, we shall be there. " 
 
 With his heart on fire, Raoul strode through the 
 dimly lighted streets on his way toward the Hotel de 
 Bassompierre. It would have been well for him had he 
 been less absorbed, had he seen the little red, ferret- 
 like eyes that were bent upon him as he turned into the 
 quay, and had he known of the triumphant thought of 
 Sergeant Goujon: 
 
 "At last he is in my power again! This will be 
 worth at least fifty golden crowns from the duchess." 
 
 The full September moon flung its rays with reckless 
 prodigality over the peaceful gardens of the Hotel de 
 Bassompierre, touching with silver the leaves of the 
 magnificent eld trees, and making the jets of the foun- 
 tain sparkle like fairy money as they fell with a musical 
 tinkle into the marble basins below. 
 
 Upon the terrace, in front of the lighted windows of 
 
 the house, stood Gabrielle de Vrissac. One white arm, 
 
 from which the sleeve of her pale green satin robe had 
 
 fallen back, was resting upon the balustrade, and she 
 
 Ft
 
 274 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 was gazing half dreamily down upon the quiet scene 
 beneath. 
 
 So might Juliet have leaned over her balcony in the 
 warm glow of the soft Italian night, but, alas ! there was 
 no Romeo visible here to stir the pulsations of her heart. 
 
 Not even the most vivid imagination could transform 
 into a lover the thin, elderly man in his severe robe ot 
 black, who stood by her side. 
 
 "Poor child! Poor child!" he was saying, sympa- 
 thetically. "It was a hard position to be placed in, 
 but the vicomte escaped and is now in Paris. I saw 
 him but yesterday at the Louvre; and you have sur- 
 vived the trials of the road, and are safe once more 
 under your aunt's protection. " 
 
 "It -was a terrible journey," said Gabrielle, with a 
 shudder. " I knew not at any moment when we might 
 be again attacked." 
 
 " It is over now. All's well that ends well." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac started and turned toward 
 the old man. The color was warm upon her cheeks 
 and her luminous eyes were lifted full of varying ex- 
 pression to his. 
 
 " Ay, Master Pare, but all is not over. I have trusted 
 you. You know all. He was wounded, he was ill 
 when he left the chateau, at my bidding at my bidding, 
 but I could do naught else. And where is he now? 
 In Paris? Then every moment he is in danger of dis- 
 covery. And the duchess is more inexorable than ever. 
 Her one thought is the recapture of the chevalier and 
 his his punishment. Oh ! Master Pare ! It is I who 
 have been the unfortunate cause of all !" 
 
 With a burst of emotion, she let her head sink upon 
 the shoulder of the old man, who had taken her hands 
 in his.
 
 LOVE THE CONQUEROR! 275 
 
 "Patience, dear child, patience," he said tenderly 
 and soothingly. " No one can know what an hour may 
 bring forth. " 
 
 As he spoke, he was thinking to himself: 
 
 " I have delayed long enough. The suspense is over. 
 I need watch the dread balance no longer ; it has turned 
 at last, at last! Now to act!" 
 
 He continued to speak veiled words of hope to the 
 young girl, until her vague fears began to fly away, and 
 then he took his leave, promising to see her again 
 shortly. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac, cheered and comforted in 
 spite of herself, remained alone upon the terrace. 
 
 The sound of the retreating footsteps of the phy- 
 sician had scarcely died away, when she was startled by 
 the softly breathed utterance of her name : 
 
 "Gabrielle!" 
 
 And immediately a figure glided from behind one 
 of the fountains and ran lightly up the steps to her 
 side. 
 
 With a joyous throb of her heart, she recognized 
 Raoul de Puycadere, and made a movement as if to 
 throw herself into his arms ; but almost instantly she 
 paused, and murmured, in much agitation: 
 
 "Raoul! Raoul! you free! Is it possible? Ho*, 
 came you here?" 
 
 "Love has wings, dearest," said Raoul happily, as 
 he feasted his eyes upon the rare loveliness of her ex- 
 quisite face, "and soars above every obstacle." 
 
 " Oh ! hush ! hush !" exclaimed Gabrielle, with a fear- 
 some glance about her. " Do not speak so lightly of a 
 terror which is not yet passed the future " 
 
 " Think not of it, my beloved, so long as the present 
 hour remains with us,"
 
 376 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCON Y. 
 
 He was close beside her now, and, unchecked, his 
 strong arm had stolen about her slender waist. 
 
 But all Gabrielle's fears were up in arms. 
 
 "Raoul! Raoul!" she whispered imploringly. "You 
 must not remain here. Let me implore you to go ; if 
 possible, to leave Paris. You saved my life! I now 
 urge you to save your own." 
 
 " By what means?" he asked tenderly, bending over 
 her, and holding her still more closely in his arms. 
 
 "Flight." 
 
 "Again! I obeyed you once at Vrissac. Now, no! 
 I cannot go. " 
 
 "Raoul! Raoul! You do not know what you say. 
 The duchess is using every means to discover you. The 
 friends of our house join in the cry, and the king him- 
 self urges the pursuit." 
 
 Raoul laughed. 
 
 "I thank his Majesty," he said, with light scorn, 
 "and I could expect no less from the hero of Saint 
 Bartholomew. " 
 
 Then, with an entire change of manner, he lowered 
 his head closer and closer until his mustache brushed 
 her cheek, and continued, his voice vibrant with the 
 tenderest feeling: 
 
 " Gabrielle, my sweetheart, my own, I have weighed 
 all and know the full extent of my danger." 
 
 " And you will fly?" she asked eagerly. 
 
 He smiled, and shook his head. 
 
 "No," he answered, with gentle firmness. 
 
 With a quick movement, Gabrielle tore herself from 
 his embrace, and stood before him, twisting her hands 
 nervously together in her fear and the apparent power- 
 lessness of her attempts to influence him. 
 
 "Go! go!" she cried, desperately. "It is courting
 
 LOVE THE CONQUEROR! 477 
 
 doom to remain here ! In this house, look for no pity, 
 no concealment! To the ears of the duchess, the very 
 pictures of her ancestors have each a voice and cry 
 aloud for vengeance! The very stones beneath her 
 feet echo the cry! There is death upon us death 
 swift and sure! Fly! fly! The friends who have 
 helped you thus far can help you still further, but not 
 here! not here!" 
 
 She paused, breathless with excitement, her eyes 
 glued upon his face, only to read there that her appeal 
 had availed naught. 
 
 " Gabrielle, you are my life!" was his only response* 
 
 "Raoul!" 
 
 " Listen tome, beloved!" he went on rapidly, and the 
 note of appeal in his voice was stronger even than hers 
 had been. " You have told me that you loved me, but 
 you have not told me that you would forget all and 
 crown my existence by becoming my wife. Do this 
 and " 
 
 A low cry broke from her lips, cutting short his 
 words. 
 
 " I dare not! I dare not!" she faltered brokenly. 
 
 " Then here I remain. I " 
 
 But before he could finish, he was interrupted by a 
 lithe figure bounding swiftly up the steps. It was 
 Mirza, the Tzigana, her face shining pale in the moon- 
 light. 
 
 "Monsieur! Monsieur le Chevalier!" she panted. 
 " Your presence here is known ! The soldiers are upon 
 your track! There is not a moment to be lost! Quick ! 
 Follow me!" ' 
 
 But, to her unbounded astonishment, the chevalier 
 merely shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "No I I remain I" he said.
 
 278 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Remain, monsieur! Impossible!" 
 
 " Nay, I cannot go. " 
 
 And he turned again to Gabrielle. There is a time 
 in the life of every lover when he becomes a desperate 
 gambler and he risks his all upon a single throw of the 
 die. And so it was with Raoul now. If Gabrielle 
 should persist in her refusal to marry him, what mat- 
 tered his life? 
 
 But, before he could move a step, Mirza clutched him 
 feverishly by the sleeve, and pointed across the gar- 
 dens, to where, some little distance up the river, a dim 
 uncertain, reddish light was visible, and at the same 
 moment there broke upon their ears the dull, far-off, 
 muffled tolling of an alarm-bell. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac gave one horrified glance in 
 the direction indicated by the gypsy's finger, and sank 
 down upon a stone bench, covering her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 " Look, look, monsieur!" cried Mirza. "The soldiers 
 are descending the river in boats. Yonder glare comes 
 from their torches. In ten minutes they will have en- 
 tered the gardens." 
 
 The chevalier lightly shook off her touch, and it was 
 with an insouciance which was tinged with something 
 almost like gayety, that he replied: 
 
 "Ten minutes! The tortoises! I am grateful to 
 them for giving me so much. Farewell, my good girl, 
 and let me steal a few golden moments from the little 
 yet left me." 
 
 But, with a spring, Mirza darted in front of him and 
 approached Gabrielle, who, pale and trembling, lifted 
 her head without rising. 
 
 " Oh ! dear lady !" implored the Tzigane ' PO you 
 speak, and "
 
 LOVE THE CONQUEROR! 279 
 
 But Raoul had moved forward, and placing himself 
 between them, prevented any further appeal. 
 
 "No, you know not what you are asking," he said, 
 resolutely. " I am not ungrateful, kindest, best of 
 friends, but farewell." 
 
 Mirza hesitated a moment, glancing in her distress 
 from one to the other. "It is useless," she thought, 
 41 and there is but one way to save him, now but one. " 
 And, as if taken with a sudden resolve, she turned 
 quickly, and ran down the short flight of steps to where 
 Pharos and Ismael were awaiting her. 
 
 " What keeps him?" asked the former, in an impatient 
 whisper. 
 
 " Chut !" responded Mirza, with a gesture of silence, 
 and indicating the terrace where Raoul had thrown him- 
 self at Gabrielle's feet. " The strongest of all fetters 
 - love! We can do nothing here. But I have a plan. 
 Come!" 
 
 And, with Mirza in advance, the three Bohemians 
 glided away into the shadows. 
 
 For a moment there was silence on the terrace. 
 Raoul seemed to have forgotten all save that he was in 
 the presence of the woman he adored. 
 
 Then, borne on a sudden puff of wind, the tolling of 
 the alarm-bell grew louder, and at the same moment 
 came sounds as of a distant shouting. 
 
 As if moved by a spring, Mademoiselle de Vrissac 
 started to her feet, and all the momentary lassitude 
 borne of her despair vanished. 
 
 " Raoul ! Listen! oh, listen !" she exclaimed in a low, 
 yet clear and vibrant voice. " All Paris is aroused." 
 
 De Puycadere rose to his feet. 
 
 "Mordiou!" he said, with a contemptuous wave of 
 bis arm toward the river, where the red glare from the
 
 2 8o A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 torches was growing stronger and stronger; "those 
 hounds were fleshed at Saint Bartholomew. Cry ' Hu- 
 guenot!' ,and all rush open-mouthed upon the scent." 
 
 Now, clear above all other sounds, rang out not far 
 away several shrill whistles in quick succession, followed 
 by the melancholy note, rising and falling, of a horn. 
 
 "My friends the Bohemians!" continued Raoul, with 
 a laugh. " Sure sign of a storm when those wild birds 
 ride the wave. Mordiou ! There will be many a purse 
 cut in Paris to-night." 
 
 But Gabrielle had not been listening. 
 
 "The shouts are nearer," she said, her face turned 
 toward the river, " and see ! the glare increases ! Raoul ! 
 Raoul! do you not hear them, nearer and nearer?" 
 
 But Raoul made neither movement nor response. 
 
 She looked at him intently for a moment, with her 
 whole soul shining from her eyes, and then, with a 
 vehement gesture, as if casting all else to the wind, she 
 flew toward him and cast her arms about him. 
 
 "Come, Raoul! come!" she cried, with a passionate 
 outburst of feeling. "We will fly together!" 
 
 " Ah !" and in the cry was all the rapture of a man 
 who had gained Paradise itself. 
 
 "Come! come!" continued Gabrielle, the words fall- 
 ing quick and sharp in her intense excitement. " Yes, 
 beneath my feet I trample all the ties of kindred 
 and home! Love is dearer than them all! Come, 
 Raoul, come! You have friends, let us seek them! 
 quick! Ah!" and she started back a little, releasing 
 her hold upon him. " It is too late ! I hear the clash 
 of arms and see the glitter of pikes ! Merciful heavens ! 
 They are here!" 
 
 Raoul hurried to the balustrade and shaded his eyes 
 with his hand.
 
 LOVE THE CONQUEROR! 281 
 
 " They are landing farther down at the water-gate, " 
 he said. " The prey should be of value to have so many 
 in its pursuit. " 
 
 " Raoul! Stay not here!" exclaimed Gabrielle, com- 
 ing swiftly to his side. " There is still hope. In all 
 this house, there is but one place over whose threshold 
 the boldest foot would not dare to venture." 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 " My chamber." 
 
 Raoul started with an exclamation of horror and in- 
 dignant refusal. 
 
 "Never!" he declared violently. "Never! A thou- 
 sand deaths, rather than one slanderous tongue should 
 smirch the whiteness of your name. Gabrielle! If I 
 live, you will be my wife?" 
 
 "Yes! yes!" 
 
 "Then, farewell! I will meet these men as a soldier 
 should half-way. Farewell ! If I must die, strong in 
 the knowledge of your love, I die content!" 
 
 He started to move toward the steps, but Gabrielle 
 was before him. 
 
 "No! no!" she cried, frantically detaining him. 
 " You shall not go, or if you go I follow ! My breast 
 shall be your buckler and one shot shall carry death to 
 us both! This way! This way!" 
 
 And before he could remonstrate, she had dragged 
 him into the house. 
 
 Across the spacious apartments, up one corridor and 
 down another she led him, almost running in her wild 
 impatience, until they came to a long, dimly lighted 
 gallery, the walls of which were hung with full-length 
 portraits, male and female, in the dress of the various 
 periods of French history. 
 
 "I was mad not to Jave thought of this before,"
 
 282 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 gasped Mademoiselle de Vrissac, almost breathless 
 with her rapid progress. "That picture," crossing as 
 she spoke to a portrait of a huge, bearded man in the 
 garb of a crusader " that picture masks a secret pas- 
 sage by which we may gain unperceived a place of 
 shelter, the only one. The spring is here. Yes, it 
 moves, it moves! We are saved." 
 
 The picture had slid quickly aside, only to reveal 
 what froze Gabrielle's blood in her veins. The cry of 
 joy died away on her lips, utter, hopeless despair took 
 possession of her, and with a moan of anguish she sank 
 upon her knees, with hands clasped and eyes fixed as 
 one who looks upon a spectre. 
 
 Within the aperture, her eyes gleaming with a cold, 
 merciless glitter and her lips wreathed in a triumphant 
 smile, stood the Duchess de Bassompierrt.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " THERE IS A WEAPON ! DEFEND YOURSELF. " 
 
 No words can depict the emotions of Raoul de Puy- 
 cadere at this unexpected and terrible apparition of the 
 woman into whose life, against his will though it was, 
 he had brought such terrible sorrow. 
 
 Had his life depended upon it, he could not have 
 moved, but remained motionless with his gaze riveted 
 upon those haughty features, irradiated as they now 
 were by an unholy joy, the anticipated delight of a ven- 
 geance soon to be sated. 
 
 For an instant there was silence in the gallery, a 
 silence broken only by the shivering breathing of 
 Gabrielle. 
 
 The duchess was the first to speak. 
 
 "The plan was well contrived," she said, with cold, 
 biting sarcasm, "but you had forgotten me in your 
 counsels. " 
 
 Then, with firm, slow step, she left her position at 
 the entrance of the secret passage and came into the 
 room. The panel slid back into place with a click 
 behind her. 
 
 Sweeping past Gabrielle, who still remained upon 
 her knees crouched against the wall, she advanced 
 toward the unhappy chevalier, and stopped just before 
 him, confronting him with the same look of mingled 
 sternness and exultation. 
 
 Involuntarily his eyes fell before her gazf
 
 284 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 "Once more we meet, Raoul de Puycadere," began 
 the duchess, slowly. " You cannot escape me now. 
 What foolish confidence has led you back into this 
 house? The boldest hunter when he has stricken down 
 the cub of the lioness hesitates to face its mother in her 
 den." 
 
 The chevalier's head was bent, and, despite all en- 
 deavors, he could not raise his eyes to meet those of the 
 heartbroken, vindictive woman. But he essayed to 
 speak. 
 
 " Madame, I " 
 
 " I spare you the reply, " interrupted the duchess 
 haughtily, with a disdainful glance at the kneeling form 
 of her niece, " and will guess the reason that has led you 
 to rush thus blindfold upon your destruction." 
 
 She paused, and as her eyes fell again upon the chev- 
 alier, the enforced calmness which had thus far distin- 
 guished her bearing deserted her. All her hopeless 
 grief, all her savage thirst for vengeance, welled up in 
 her heart and overwhelmed her in its flood. Her eyes 
 blazed with sombre fire and two red spots burned darkly 
 in her cheeks. She towered above the bowed figure of 
 the man before her, whom she at last held in her power, 
 like some superb, avenging fury. And when she spoke, 
 her voice was hoarse and terrible in its accents of re- 
 morseless denouncement. So might some bloodthirsty 
 queen of a savage tribe have condemned her enemy to 
 the stake. 
 
 " Hear me, wretched man ! Hear me with terror, 
 that I may revel in your agony, hear me while I pro- 
 nounce that death inevitable which now hangs over 
 you ." 
 
 A low moan broke from Gabrielle's white lips, a 
 moan that went to Raoul's heart with a keener pang
 
 "THERE is A WEAPON! DEFEND YOURSELF!" 285 
 
 than all the furious words hurled at him by the duchess, 
 but the latter paid no attention, if indeed she heard, but 
 continued, her excitement increasing every moment: 
 
 " Was it not enough to have had the fair protection of 
 my house, that I, the lonely mother, stretched out my 
 protecting hands even when your own blood-stained 
 sword cried out against you? My sacred word was 
 pledged, and I gave you liberty and life, and sent you 
 forth unharmed." 
 
 "You did, madame," murmured Raoul, softly. 
 
 "But, while doing this, I swore that if, during the 
 wretched life still left me, I saw your face again, or 
 came but to the knowledge of your hiding-place, I 
 would pursue you with my direst vengeance!" 
 
 While the duchess was speaking, Gabrielle had risen 
 slowly to her feet, and now, approaching her aunt, she 
 laid her hand timidly upon her arm. 
 
 "Ah! madame!" she said, in low, imploring tones. 
 But the duchess started and recoiled as if an adder 
 had touched her. Turning upon Gabrielle a face con- 
 vulsed with passion, she hissed through her clenched 
 teeth : 
 
 " Back ! Back, I say, and touch me not, degenerate 
 girl ! Unworthy member of a noble house, would you 
 dare again to speak of your love to me?" 
 
 At this Gabrielle raised her head proudly. 
 
 "To the world!" she said, defiantly. "I love Raoul 
 de Puycadere!" 
 
 And, crossing to the chevalier, she took her stand by 
 his side, resolved to share his fortunes for weal or for 
 
 woe. 
 
 The duchess made a movement as i 
 down to her feet, but, by a mighty effort restraining 
 herself, she rejoined with a bitter sneer :
 
 286 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 " You love him ! So be it ! And I, in the very great- 
 ness of my hate, call up the pale figure of Death to 
 place between you a barrier eternal!" 
 
 As if in answer to her invocation, a clash of arms 
 was heard through one of the windows which was open 
 and overlooked the gardens, and the crimson light of 
 waving torches below flashed through, and for a mo- 
 ment illuminated the scene as if in a bath of blood. 
 
 "Ah!" cried the duchess, her voice rising almost to 
 a shriek. "You hear! you see! I called on Death! 
 He answers to my summons!" 
 
 "Aunt! aunt!" cried Gabrielle, clasping her hands 
 to her head in horror. 
 
 " No more! My heart is adamant!" 
 
 But Gabrielle, wild with terror for her lover, flew to 
 her and once more grasped her robe. 
 
 "I must! I will speak!" she sobbed. "Love is 
 stronger than hate." 
 
 "Love stronger than hate!" retorted the duchess, 
 vrith a fierce laugh, and thrusting the girl roughly from 
 her. " Love is a word we write in sand, and which the 
 first rough wind disperses into air, but hate is carved 
 with steel upon the marble of the tomb. " 
 
 Gabrielle stretched out her hands in an agony of sup- 
 plication. Her hair had become loosened and fell ii 
 golden masses about her white face, and her eyes were 
 wild and staring with fear. 
 
 "Pity! ah! pity!" she gasped. 
 
 In an instant Raoul was by her side, and had taken 
 her cold hand in his. 
 
 " Do not plead for me, Gabrielle," he said quickly. 
 
 The duchess laughed, a ghastly laugh that froze the 
 blood in the veins of the miserable girl before her. 
 
 "Pity!" she echoed, scornfully. "Pity! What pity
 
 "THERE is A WEAPON! DEFEND YOURSELF!" 287 
 
 had this man upon Paul de Bassompierre when he mur- 
 dered him?" 
 
 Raoul started. 
 
 "Madame, madame, do with me what you will," he 
 said, with dignity, " but do not stain a yet unsullied name 
 with base dishonor. The duke, your son, fell in " 
 
 " In a duel ! I know ! I know !" interrupted the duch- 
 ess, with intense bitterness. " He was killed according 
 to the code, no rule infringed, no circumstance omitted. 
 You, a man, skilled in the use of arms, crossed steel 
 with a boy a boy, I say, upon whose chin a beard had 
 scarcely dawned. You gave him no time, not even to 
 call upon that mother whose fingers should have closed 
 his eyes, but thrust his life out with a lunge. " 
 
 How cruelly unjust this was Raoul knew only too 
 well. The duke had come to his death by an accident 
 due to his own folly. But what would it avail to say 
 this now? 
 
 "Alas! Would it had been my life in place of his!" 
 he said sorrowfully, and with entire sincerity. 
 
 The duchess made a gesture of derisive scorn. 
 
 " And you talk to me of mercy!" she proceeded, with 
 no allusion to Raoul's words. " Expect it rather from 
 the wolf whom you have robbed of her cubs! De- 
 mand it of the eagle whose nest you have pillaged, 
 when she hovers over you with beak and claw prepared 
 to rend," and her fingers clinched as if in the very 
 action " to rend !" 
 
 " Yet " began Gabrielle. 
 
 But the duchess waved her aside. 
 
 "Away! By all the miseries a bereaved mother 
 suffers, I will have justice on this man. His own mad 
 folly has placed him in my hands, and, come what may, 
 I will feed the famine of my vengeance!"
 
 288 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONV. 
 
 She moved a step or two toward the open window, 
 and then paused and turned toward Gabrielle who was 
 clinging to Raoul. 
 
 "You would make that man your husband? As you 
 please, but the block shall stand behind the altar, and 
 the headsman beside the priest. Without there!" But 
 before she could reach the window, below which the 
 tumult clearly showed that the soldiers were, Gabrielle, 
 breaking from Raoul, who sought to detain her, had 
 sprung in front of her and barred the way. 
 
 The whole attitude and expression of the girl had 
 undergone an instantaneous and marvellous change. 
 She was no longer fearful, but her head was held erect, 
 and her flashing eyes met those of the duchess without 
 flinching. 
 
 " To call in those bloodhounds, you must first strike 
 me down!" she cried in clear, ringing tones. " Nay! I 
 fear you not! Is it for you to speak of justice, who 
 ere you grasp the sword have thrown aside the balance?" 
 She paused, and then, with her eyes still fixed on the 
 duchess, continued in a gentler tone: "You are my 
 mother's sister, and have been as a second mother to 
 me show pity then, for it is for my life I plead." 
 
 The duchess' expression softened a trifle. Despite 
 herself, she could not but remember what this girl had 
 once been to her almost a daughter. 
 
 " Yours?" 
 
 " The blow you aim at him strikes me. " 
 
 "Let me pass!" 
 
 But there were not in the tone the inflexible stern- 
 ness and tenacity of purpose there had been. 
 
 Gabrielle gave her one long, steady look, and then 
 moved aside. 
 
 " Pass, then, and summon thither the real assassins.
 
 "THERE is A WEAPON! DEFEND YOURSELF!" 289 
 
 We will await them hand in hand. My choice is made. 
 My home is here." 
 
 And she flung herself into Raoul's outstretched arms. 
 
 The duchess glanced toward the window, and then 
 stood irresolute. 
 
 " Girl ! girl ! Can you forget " she began. 
 
 "All!" exclaimed Gabrielle passionately, her eyes 
 sunk in those of Raoul. " I see nothing, can recognize 
 nothing but my love. " 
 
 " Gabrielle ! Gabrielle !" murmured Raoul, straining 
 her close to his breast. " Would that I had words to 
 show you my heart." 
 
 "Your heart is linked with mine, and cannot be 
 divided." 
 
 Raoul dashed one hand across his eyes to brush away 
 the mist of tears that blinded him. Then, still en- 
 circling Gabrielle, he turned to the duchess with a sort 
 of feverish desperation. 
 
 " Madame, madame, do with me what you will, " he 
 said, brokenly. " I cannot think ! I cannot see ! Let 
 some hand, even though it be the hand of the execu- 
 tioner, guide me out of this dismal maze. " 
 
 The duchess did not move or speak. All the fierce 
 excitement of her anger had vanished, the color had 
 faded from her cheeks, leaving her pale, worn, and 
 weary. 
 
 Then from within the house itself came the tramp of 
 feet and the clamor of voices. No need to call now. 
 The soldiers had already penetrated it in pursuit of 
 their prey. 
 
 The duchess wavered a moment, and came hurriedly 
 toward the lovers, clasped in one another's arms. 
 
 Then, struggling with her emotion, and speaking 
 with an effort, she said: 
 19
 
 29<> A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONV. 
 
 " Raoul de Puycadere, of all the edifice that formed 
 our house, you have left me but a ruin ; you have robbed 
 me of a son, and now would steal away the last link that 
 might bind me to the world my my daughter! Re- 
 nounce Gabrielle ! Swear to me that you will see her no 
 more, and " 
 
 She paused, the words choking her in her throat. 
 
 "Renounce Gabrielle!" cried Raoul, clasping the 
 young girl still more closely to him. " Renounce Ga- 
 brielle! A dozen lives were too dearly purchased at 
 such a price!" 
 
 "Die, then!" exclaimed the duchess, turning angrily 
 away. 
 
 But Gabrielle wrenched herself away from Raoul, 
 and flung herself passionately at her aunt's feet. 
 
 " Spare him ! Spare him ! You weep. Ah ! do not 
 turn away ! I see you weep. Your hands too tremble. 
 Do not withdraw it, but let it rest in mine! Spare him, 
 my mother, spare me /" 
 
 It was a terrible moment for the duchess. Her whole 
 mood had changed. Although her sorrow for the dead 
 was no whit abated, she recognized at last, though 
 vaguely, her duty to the living. It was a cruel alter- 
 native, and on either side her heart was rent in twain. 
 She had called on Death to aid her, and now she shrank 
 appalled before the power she had invoked. 
 
 Closer and nearer came the shouts and cries of those 
 she would gladly have welcomed a short time before. 
 
 In another instant the soldiers would be in the 
 gallery. 
 
 Releasing herself from Gabrielle, she turned to 
 Raoul. 
 
 " Chevalier de Puycadere, " she said hurriedly, " you 
 have injured me beyond the possibility of forgiveness.
 
 "THERE is A WEAPON! DEFEND YOURSELF!" 291 
 
 It is not given me to pardon, but I I cannot be your 
 executioner!" 
 
 Then, with a rapid step, as though fearful to hesitate 
 an instant lest she should repent of her determination, 
 she crossed to where upon the wall, between two of the 
 pictures, was arranged a stack of weapons. 
 
 Quickly detaching a sword, she flung it at the cheva- 
 lier's feet. 
 
 44 There!" she cried, as the door at the tipper end of 
 the gallery was thrown open. " There is a weapon ! De- 
 fend yourself! And, at least, die like a soldier!"
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 WON AT LAST! 
 
 WITH a loud cry, a very rugissement of joy, Raoul 
 snatched up the sword. Death seemed inevitable, but 
 all events he would die, like a worthy scion of his family, 
 by the soldier's weapon, and not by the axe of the 
 headsman. 
 
 The tumult outside was deafening. His enemies 
 were close at hand. Setting his teeth hard, he threw 
 himself into a position of defence, determined to sell 
 his life as dearly as possible. 
 
 In an agony of fear, Gabrielle clung to the duchess. 
 
 The immense doors at the end of the gallery were 
 flung open with a resounding clatter. It was not sol- 
 diers, however, who rushed and struggled in a confused 
 mass down the short flight of steps. In a sort of bil- 
 low surged down a band of Bohemians, led by Pharos 
 and Ismael. Their garments were girded about them 
 as if for battle, each man was armed with knife, club, 
 or dagger, and on every face was an expression of wild 
 ferocity. 
 
 Immediately after them came with martial tread a 
 company of soldiers, who halted in double ranks at the 
 top of the steps. 
 
 Then among them appeared for an instant the burly 
 form and scarlet face of Sergeant Goujon. 
 
 " There he is!" he screamed. " Fire upon him!" 
 
 And he disappeared again behind his men.
 
 WON AT LAST! 193 
 
 "To your ranks, children of Egypt," shouted Pharos, 
 " and pay back fire with steel!" 
 
 The soldiers levelled their arquebuses, but, before 
 they could obey the sergeant's command, Gabrielle had 
 thrown herself in front of the chevalier, and the duchess 
 had advanced, her hand raised with a gesture of com- 
 .nand. 
 
 The soldiers paused, not daring to fire for fear of in- 
 juring one of the women. 
 
 At this the sergeant, fearful of being balked of his 
 prey and so losing the promised reward, forgot for once 
 his prudence and appeared once more amid the ranks 
 of his men. 
 
 "Fire!" he commanded, angrily. 
 
 But, as the soldiers still hesitated, he snatched an 
 arquebuse from one of them and pointed it at the 
 chevalier. 
 
 " By the bones of Beelzebub, he shall not escape me 
 again!" 
 
 But, before he could fire, the piece was struck upward, 
 he himself hurled violently to the ground, and, dashing 
 aside all obstacles, there pressed forward a richly 
 dressed man of marked physiognomy brilliant-eyed, 
 thin-lipped and with a nose like an eagle's beak. 
 
 A short distance from the foot of the steps he paused 
 and faced the soldiers. 
 
 "You know me!" he cried, in clarion-like tones. 
 " Lower your muskets. I command you !" 
 
 Instantly the soldiers obeyed the order; and the 
 gypsies shrank back confusedly to right and left as they 
 recognized the gallant King of Navarre. 
 
 With a slower step, Henri advanced to the little 
 group, composed of Raoul, Gabrielle and the duchess. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Vrissac was white and trembling,
 
 294 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 but a new hope sprang up in her heart at sight of the 
 new-comer. 
 
 Doffing his plumed hat, Henri said with a laugh : 
 
 " I was just in time, it seems. Another moment, 
 chevalier, and it might have been too late. " 
 
 Then, turning to the duchess, he asked gravely and 
 courteously : 
 
 " Madame la Duchesse, do you still desire the death 
 of this young man, my equerry?" 
 
 The duchess essayed to speak, but for a moment 
 without success. At last, she managed to say: 
 
 " He is the murderer of my son. " 
 
 44 No, madame, neither he nor any one else was the 
 murderer or even the slayer of your son." He paused 
 a moment to mark the effect of his words, and then 
 continued very slowly : " Summon up all your courage, 
 madame, for you need it now. There is a surprise in 
 store for you, a great, a joyful surprise." 
 
 As he spoke he waved his hand in a sort of signal. 
 
 In answer to his gesture, through the ranks of the 
 soldiers and down the steps, came slowly the king's 
 physician, and leaning on his arm was a young man 
 whose handsome face was very pale. 
 
 A great shout went up from the Bohemians, massed 
 on either side. 
 
 " The Duke de Bassompierre !" 
 
 But above it all rang out one piercing shriek, the cry 
 of the mother, whose son was restored to her, whose 
 dead was alive. 
 
 She tottered forward, but her strength failed her and 
 she would have fallen, had not Raoul caught her. 
 
 In another moment he placed her gently in the arms 
 of her son. 
 
 For a brief instant she lay as one dead, and then her
 
 WON AT LAST! 295 
 
 eyes slowly opened to meet those of Paul de Bassom- 
 pierre bent lovingly upon her. 
 
 "Am I awake?" she murmured. "Your voice alone 
 can prove it. Speak ! speak ! or I shall die !" 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 ''My son! he lives!" sobbed the duchess, and there 
 were tears in the yes of all that heard her, " Paul ! my 
 son ! my son !" 
 
 " Yes, mother, your son, " murmured the duke, " res- 
 cued from the grave indeed!" 
 
 " Yes, yes ! Once more I feel your heart beat against 
 mine, mine that I thought to be broken ! My son ! my 
 son!" 
 
 And Raoul de Puycadere? to whom this return from 
 the grave meant life and freedom! At first, he was 
 dazed and could scarce believe the testimony of his 
 eyes. But now that he had gradually recovered his 
 senses, he turned to the King of Navarre for an 
 explanation. 
 
 "Sire, what means this? Who has wrought this 
 miracle?" 
 
 " It is all due to the science of the greatest physician 
 in Paris," said the king with a smile, indicating Mas- 
 ter Pare. 
 
 "Tell us, tell us, Master Pare!" eagerly cried Gabri- 
 elle, in whose eyes was shining a happy light that had 
 not been there for many a day. 
 
 The duchess raised her head, but still holding tight 
 to her son, as if she did not dare to let him go. 
 
 "Yes! tell me! tell me!" she said. "Ah! I cannot 
 speak. It is my joy that chokes me." 
 
 Thus conjured, the king's physician told his story. 
 
 "Pardon me, your grace," he began, "if I have 
 dared to trifle with a mother's feelings and to endanger
 
 296 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 others," with a glance at Raoul and Gabrielle, "but I 
 did not dare to act before. When the body of the duke 
 was intrusted' to my care for interment, I saw, but saw 
 with trembling doubt, a sign of life. " 
 
 " And did not speak of it !" sighed the duchess. " Oh, 
 it was cruel!" 
 
 " I dared not give the hope I scarcely felt, but, for 
 all these long days, I watched and watched the faint 
 spark as it hovered uncertain over the dark void, till at 
 last the great change came. Madame, I give you back 
 your son, my last cure and my best." 
 
 " But not the same," said the duke. " Thanks to this 
 good man's skill and words of wisdom, I have been 
 taught a lesson. Monsieur le Chevalier, to you I owe 
 much. For all the trouble in which I have embroiled 
 you, I ask your pardon. " 
 
 And he held out his hand, which Raoul warmly 
 grasped. 
 
 "Mother," continued the duke, "will you accept this 
 gentleman as your friend and mine?" 
 
 " He has already found an advocate, " replied the 
 duchess, with a faint smile. 
 
 As she spoke, she withdrew her arms from her son 
 and held them out to Gabrielle, who rushed into them 
 with a glad cry. 
 
 At this moment, the attention of all was diverted by 
 agonized shrieks of fear. Goujon was in the hands of 
 the gypsies, who were treating him anything but gently. 
 
 The chevalier started forward. 
 
 " Let him go, my friends, let him go!" he exclaimed. 
 " He is not worth your resentment!" 
 
 "Yes, let him go," added the King of Navarre, 
 laughing. " The owl sings long, but he grows hoarse 
 at last."
 
 WON AT LAST! . 497 
 
 Much against their will, the Bohemians released their 
 victim, and the poor wretch, with torn uniform and 
 bleeding face, was allowed to slink away. 
 
 The king approached the soldiers, and with a few 
 words dismissed them. The gypsies followed, with 
 loud shouts of joy at the happy turn affairs had taken. 
 
 When Henri returned to the other end of the gallery 
 he found the duchess sitting in a large armchair, with 
 her son kneeling beside her. Behind them was the 
 good physician, his kind, old face beaming with satis- 
 faction. 
 
 A short distance away, Gabrielle nestled in Raoul's 
 arms, her golden head pillowed on his breast. 
 
 As the king contemplated the group he laughed aloud, 
 and for once there was nothing sneering in his laughter. 
 It was an expression of pure delight. 
 
 " It seems a pity to break in upon your happiness," he 
 said, " but there is something still to be added. I seem 
 to have been the Merlin of your fairy tales, my Gascon, 
 the wizard who unravels the tangled skeins and sets all 
 things right. But there is left one other wave to my 
 wand? Shall I work the transformation, Monsieur le 
 Chevalier?" 
 
 "Surely, sire, " replied Raoul, in some bewilderment. 
 
 "Monsieur le Chevalier de Puycadere," continued 
 Henri of Navarre more gravely, " in addition to your 
 other services, you saved my life. Whatever my ene- 
 mies may say, ingratitude is not one of my faults. If I 
 am not king here, I am king in Navarre ! Cease to be 
 my equerry and become governor of Be"arn. " 
 
 "Oh! sire!" broke simultaneously from Raoul and 
 Gabrielle. 
 
 "You will leave for your new post to-morrow. I 
 have procured from my brother of France this blank
 
 298 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 pass to Navarre," drawing a parchment from his breast. 
 "One of the names I have filled in, that of the loyal 
 Gascon, Raoul, Chevalier de Puycadere." 
 
 The duchess rose and held out her hand for the docu- 
 ment. 
 
 " With your Majesty's permission, I will dare to write 
 the other, " she said. " That of Gabrielle de Vrissac 
 or shall it be Gabrielle de Puycadere!" 
 
 Fifteen years have elapsed. 
 
 Both Charles IX. and Catherine de Medicis are dead. 
 Henri de Bourbon, King of Navarre, is now Henri IV. 
 King of France. Both he and his beautiful queen, 
 Marguerite, the last representative of the House of 
 Valois, have many years before them of a reign over 
 the country they love, troublous years perhaps, and 
 yet years of a prosperity which France has never known 
 heretofore, and which will leave their stamp on genera- 
 tions still to come. 
 
 Many fierce battles have been fought, many struggles 
 of diplomacy have taken place, but these only interest 
 us so far as the people whose fortunes we have fol- 
 lowed are concerned. 
 
 At the intercession, or rather at the command, of the 
 Italian queen-mother, the conspirators who sought the 
 life of the King of Navarre, the Vicomte de Vrissac at 
 their head, were pardoned, on the condition that they 
 left France forever. 
 
 Annibal Goujon, disappointed in the reward of five 
 hundred crowns for the capture of the Huguenot he 
 thought himself so sure to win, died of the result of a 
 drunken bout, indulged in through his disappointment. 
 And do we dare to whisper it? his wife did not mourn 
 him extravagantly.
 
 WON AT LAST! 299 
 
 Pretty Rose never married again one experience 
 was enough for her but the " Rising Sun" prospered 
 year after year, bringing a golden shower into her 
 lap. 
 
 One more scene and then the curtain falls. 
 
 We are where we were when we first met Raoul de 
 Puycadere, but how changed are our surroundings. 
 
 The ruined chateau is now restored and is the pride 
 of the whole countryside. The house itself is magnifi- 
 cent, both inside and outside, the lawns are smooth as 
 velvet, the gardens brilliant in their riot of color, and 
 the owner and his beautiful wife are adored throughout 
 the fair land of Gascony. 
 
 Let us take our last glimpse of them on one exquisite 
 evening of the last days of summer. 
 
 Under the spreading branches of a tilleul-tree sit 
 Raoul de Puycadere and his wife, Gabrielle far more 
 lovely, if possible, as a matron than she ever was as a 
 maid. 
 
 Not far away is a white-haired old lady, bent with 
 years now, but with her wit as keen, her personality as 
 strong as it has ever been, and, by her side, the duke, 
 her son, who, although a Catholic, has won his spurs 
 and redeemed the follies of his youth fighting the bat- 
 tles of his country with the white plume of Navarre as 
 his oriflamme. 
 
 From the lawn below come the shouts of laughter of 
 two sturdy sons of the house of Puycadere, who are 
 being taught by a dark-eyed gypsy matron the words of 
 the song of their country: 
 
 " Non loin du pays de Gascogne, 
 Mon pere avait un vieux chateau. 
 Mon aieuel etait rossignol, 
 Ma grand-mere etait hirondelle!"
 
 300 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. 
 
 It is not often that those nomadic personages, Pharos 
 and his wife, Mirza, can be induced to come for a visit 
 to the Chateau de Puycadere, but, when they can, what 
 delight to the two boys, whom they love almost as 
 much as do their parents! 
 
 Gabrielle turns to her husband, who remains still her 
 lover, and, glancing over the sunlit scene before her, 
 says: 
 
 "How happy we are! Mordiou!" and then she 
 laughs : " You see, I am becoming as much a Gascon 
 as you !" 
 
 Raoul laughs too. 
 
 " Become a Gascon as much as you please in all ways 
 but one. Don't indulge in the sole weakness of the 
 Gascon, and romance ! I must believe in your love. " 
 
 Gabrielle turns upon him her eyes, full of that light 
 that never was on land or sea. 
 
 " Do you doubt it?" 
 
 "Never, sweetheart, never!" 
 
 THE END.
 
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