d Serra, greatly astonished, "who but the lady I have been
watching all these weeks, the Genevan heretic, the Senorita from the
house of La Masane above Collioure. We overtook her in flight, and
captured her among the sand-dunes on the very edge of the sea!"

"Ah, the Senorita?" purred the Jesuit; "then is the Senorita fitted with
a nascent but very tolerable pair of moustacios!"

Serra stared a moment, tore off the cloak with its heavy hood, clutched
at the lighter summer mantilla of dark lace and silk. It ripped and tore
vertically, and lo! as a butterfly issues from the chrysalis, forth
stepped the Abbe John, clad in pale blue velvet from head to knee, as
for a court reception.

He bowed gracefully to the company, twisted his moustache, folded his
arms, and waited.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

AND ONE WAS NOT!

And this was how it chanced. All that was hidden from Serra, the
fist-faced son of a Murcian witch, from Felieu, the querulous Esplugan,
and from Andres, the little ape with the bat's ears, shall be made
clear.

With one exception, the family of La Masane was resolved to go back to
France, where, if the country was still disturbed, at least there was no
Inquisition.

"I," said the Professor, "know not whether I shall ever teach in my
class-room again--not, at least, while the Leaguers bear rule in Paris.
But I have a little money laid aside in a safe place, which will at
least buy us a vineyard----"

"And I," said the Miller-Alcalde, "have enough gold Henries, safe with
Pereira, the Jew of Bayonne, to hire a mill or two. Good bread and
well-ground wheat wherewith to make it, are the two things that man
cannot do without. I can provide these, if no better."

"And what better can there be?" cried Don Jordy. "I--I am learned in
canon law, which is the same all the world over. I grieve to leave my
good Bishop Onuphre. But since he cannot protect me--nay, goes as much
in fear of the Holy Office as I myself--Brother Anatole must e'en hire
me by the day in his vigne, or Jean-Marie there make me as dusty as
himself in his mills."

"And your mother, lads, have you forgotten her?" said Madame Amelie.

"You are coming with us, mother," they cried, in chorus, "you and
Claire. It is for you that we go!"

"And pray you, who will care for my rabbits, my poultry, and the
pigeons? All the _basse cour_ of La Masane?" cried the Senora.

"That also will be arranged, mother," said Don Jordy. "I will put in a
man wh