h scorn. "'Tis an old
wife's story. I would stake my life on it."

"Enough," I answered slowly. "You have said you would stake your life on
it. You shall. The evening grows cold, and, as you are my prisoner, I
must have a care of you. Kindly put on this cloak, and precede me, M.
d'Entragues. We return to Fontainebleau by the Rock of the Serpents."

His eyes met mine; he read my thoughts, and for a second held his
breath. A cold shadow fell upon his sallow face, and then for an instant
I thought that he would resist. But the stern countenances of La Trape
and Boisrose, who had ridden up to his rein and stood awaiting his
answer with their swords drawn, determined him. With a forced and
mirthless laugh he took the cloak. "It is new, I hope," he said, as he
threw it over his shoulders.

It was not, and I apologized, adding, however, that no one but the King
had worn it. On this he settled it about him; and having heard me
strictly charge the two guards, who followed with their arquebuses
ready, to fire on him if he tried to escape, he turned his horse's head
into the path and rode slowly along it, while we, in double file,
followed a few paces behind him.

The sun had set, and such light as remained fell cold between the trees.
The green of the sward had that pale look it puts on with the last rays,
or with the dawning. The crackling of a stick under a horse's hoof, or
the ring of a spur against a scabbard, were the only sounds which broke
the stillness of the wood as we proceeded. We had gone some way when M.
Louis halted, and, turning in his saddle, called to me. "M. de Rosny,"
he said--the light had so far failed that I could scarcely see his face,
"I have a meeting with the Vicomte de Matigny on Saturday about a little
matter of a lady's glove. Should anything prevent my appearance----"

"I will see that a proper explanation is given," I answered.

"Or, if M. d'Entragues will permit me," exclaimed the Gascon, who was
riding by my side, "I, M. de Boisrose of St. Palais, will appear in his
place and make the Viscount de Caylus swallow the glove."

"Sir," said M. Louis, with politeness, and in a steady tone, "you are a
gentleman. I am obliged to you."

He waved his hand to me with a gesture which I long remembered, and,
giving his horse the rein, he went forward along the path at a brisk
walk. We followed, and I had just remarked that a plant of box was
beginning here and there to take the place of the usual under