essity was that Ursula de Vesc's complicity should be
brought home to her. Let that be done, and La Mothe's despair might
clear aside all difficulties, though, without doubt, the poor boy would
suffer. There is no such pain as when love dies in the full glory of
its strength. But then would come the ministrations of Time, the
healer. Mother Nature of the rough hand and tender heart would scar
the hurt, and little by little its agony would numb into a passive
submission.

It was a truth he had proved. Suzanne's death had been as the plucking
out of the very roots of life. In that first tremendous realization of
loss there had been no place left for even God Himself. But that had
passed. The All-Merciful has placed bounds on the tide of human
suffering: Thus far shalt thou go, and no further. The maimed roots of
life had budded afresh, and if no flower of love had shed its fragrance
to bless the days, there had been peace. So would it be with Stephen
La Mothe. But the Valley of Tribulation must first be crossed, and it
would be the mercy of kindness to shorten the passage, even though the
plunge into its shadows was the more swift. For that there must be
conviction, and for the conviction a confronting. Villon was right,
Ursula de Vesc and Jean Saxe should be set face to face within the hour.

"Monsieur Villon," he said with unaccustomed courtesy, "I agree with
you. Hugues is dead, the Dauphin too high above us, but Mademoiselle
de Vesc has the right to know the peril she stands in. Will you do us
all a kindness and bring Jean Saxe to the Chateau? Monsieur La Mothe
and I will----" he paused, searching for a word which would be
conclusive and yet without offence, "will summon Mademoiselle de Vesc."

"It is an outrage," said La Mothe stubbornly, "and I protest against
it, protest utterly."

"Stephen, try and understand," and Commines laid his hand upon the
younger man's shoulder with something more than the persuasive appeal
of the father who, to his sorrow, is at variance with the son of his
love. It was the gesture of the friend, the equal, the elder in
authority who might command but elects to reason. "Consider my
position a moment. By the King's command I stand in his place in
Amboise. If he were here----"

"God forbid!" said Villon. "The King is like heaven--dearly loved afar
off."

"But his justice is here----"

"And his mercy?"

"And his mercy," repeated Commines coldly, "the mercy that