the passionate avowal he had been about to make.
He pressed her hand, and raised it to his lips.

"Your wish is my law, Mademoiselle," he said, and, controlling himself
with an effort, he bade her adieu and hastened from the house.

Out in the streets of the city he walked, he cared not whither.
Passers-by turned to look at him; but he heeded no one. He strode on,
absorbed in his own inward struggle, till he drew near the Church of the
Innocents, in the heart of the city. A party of nobles were approaching,
and as they passed him, a burst of laughter from among them attracted
his attention. He raised his eyes; saw De Roberval, and his sword leaped
from its scabbard. Half-a-dozen other weapons instantly flashed in the
sunlight; but La Pommeraye, recollecting that he had no quarrel with any
save one of their number, sheathed his blade, and unheeding the shouts
of welcome from some of the party who recognised him, beckoned De
Roberval aside from the group.

"My presence here alarms you," he said, for the nobleman's sudden pallor
had not escaped his notice. "And with good reason. I have but just
returned from the Isle of Demons."

"Indeed; and what concern of mine is that?" returned De Roberval, with
an assumption of carelessness, though he could not altogether steady his
voice.

Charles looked him straight in the face.

"Coward and murderer!" he said between his teeth.

"They are dead then?" said De Roberval, still striving to speak calmly.

"Dead!"

De Roberval had taken a quick resolve. Mastering himself with a great
effort, he said hurriedly: "We cannot speak of it now. Meet me to-night
at this spot, and the darkest tale you have to tell I will listen to. If
you desire my life, I am weary of it, and would gladly lay it down."

The man had aged greatly since Charles last saw him. His shoulders were
bent; his hair was almost white; and his face was thin and worn.
Something in his voice made Charles believe that he was sincere, and for
a moment a feeling almost akin to pity stirred in his heart.

"It is well," said he. "To-night, at eight o'clock, I will be here," and
without so much as a word to the nobleman's companions, he strode away.
He returned to Marguerite, and told her of the encounter with her uncle,
and the meeting which had been arranged for the evening. The news
evidently agitated her greatly.

"Have you told him of my presence here?" she asked. "Does he expect me
to meet him?"

"He knows naugh