in the summer parlour which
Valentine la Nina had entered to look for the Abbe John.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE VENGEANCE OF VALENTINE LA NINA

When Valentine la Nina left him in the summer parlour where their
interview had taken place, the Abbe John made no attempt to free
himself. He seemed still half-unconscious, and, indeed, proceeded
without rhyme or reason to make some repairs in the once gay court suit,
exactly as if he had been seated in his tent in the camp of the
Bearnais.

As yet he had no thought of escape. He was in the fortress of the
Inquisition. The influence of the Place of Eyes was on him still. To
escape appeared an impossibility to his weakened mind. Indeed, he
thought only of the strange girl who had just talked with him. Was she
indeed a king's daughter, with provinces to bring in dower, or----No,
she could not lie. He was sure of that. She did _not_ lie, certainly,
decided the Abbe John, with natural masculine favour towards a beautiful
woman. A girl like that could not have lied. Mad--perhaps, yes, a
little--but to lie, impossible.

So in that quiet place, he watched the slow wheeling of the long
checkered bars of the window _grille_, and the shadows made by the
branches of the Judas tree in the courtyard move regularly across the
carpet. One of the leaves boarded his foot as he looked, climbed up the
instep, and made a pretty shifting pattern upon the silken toe.

The Abbe John had resumed his customary position of easy
self-possession--one ankle perched upon the opposing knee, his head
thrown far back, his dark hair in some disorder, but curling naturally
and densely, none the less picturesque because of that--when Valentine
la Nina re-entered.

He rose at once, and in some surprise. She held a knife in her hand, and
her face carried something about it of wild and dangerous, a kind of
storm-sunshine, as it seemed.

"Hum," thought the Abbe John, as he looked at her, "I had better have
stayed in the Place of Eyes! I see not why all this should happen to me.
I am an easy man, and have always done what I could to content a lady.
But this one asks too much. And then, after all, now there is Claire! I
told her so. It is very tiresome!"

Nevertheless he smiled his sweet, careless smile, and swept back his
curls with his hand.

"If I am to die, a fellow may as well do it with some grace," he
murmured; "I wish I had been more fit--if only Claire had had the time
to make me a better man