Avranche of Bercy," responded Philip in a low voice.

CHAPTER XXIII

With what seemed an unnecessary boldness Detricand slept that night at
the inn, "The Golden Crown," in the town of Bercy: a Royalist of the
Vendee exposing himself to deadly peril in a town sworn to alliance with
the Revolutionary Government. He knew that the town, even the inn, might
be full of spies; but one other thing he also knew: the innkeeper of
"The Golden Crown" would not betray him, unless he had greatly changed
since fifteen years ago. Then they had been friends, for his uncle
of Vaufontaine had had a small estate in Bercy itself, in ironical
proximity to the castle.

He walked boldly into the inn parlour. There were but four men in the
room--the landlord, two stout burghers, and Frange Pergot, the porter
of the castle, who had lost no time carrying his news: not to betray his
old comrade in escapade, but to tell a chosen few, Royalists under the
rose, that he had seen one of those servants of God, an officer of the
Vendee.

At sight of the white badge with the red cross on Detricand's coat, the
four stood up and answered his greeting with devout respect; and he had
speedy assurance that in this inn he was safe from betrayal. Presently
he learned that three days hence a meeting of the States of Bercy was to
be held for setting the seal upon the Duke's formal adoption of Philip,
and to execute a deed of succession. It was deemed certain that, ere
this, the officer sent to England would have returned with Philip's
freedom and King George's licence to accept the succession in the duchy.
From interest in these matters alone Detricand would not have remained
at Bercy, but he thought to use the time for secretly meeting officers
of the duchy likely to favour the cause of the Royalists.

During these three days of waiting he heard with grave concern a
rumour that the great meeting of the States would be marked by Philip's
betrothal with the Comtesse Chantavoine. He cared naught for the
succession, but there was ever with him the remembrance of Guida
Landresse de Landresse, and what touched Philip d'Avranche he had come
to associate with her. Of the true relations between Guida and Philip he
knew nothing, but from that last day in Jersey he did know that Philip
had roused in her emotions, perhaps less vital than love but certainly
less equable than friendship.

Now in his fear that Guida might suffer, the more he thought of the
Comtesse