of Florimond, and the news was ever that he was
well and thriving, gathering honours and drinking deep of life.

And now, at last, when matters seemed to have been tumbled into her lap
that she might dispose of them as she listed; now, when in her anxiety
to see her son supplant his step-brother in the possession of La
Vauvraye--if not, perhaps, in that of Condillac as well she had done
a rashness which might end in making her and Marius outlaws, news
came that this hated Florimond was at the door; tardily returned, yet
returned in time to overthrow her schemes and to make her son the pauper
that her husband's will had seemed to aim at rendering him.

Her mind skimmed lightly over all these matters, seeking somewhere some
wrong that should stand out stark and glaring, upon which she might
seize, and offer it to the Seneschal as an explanation of her hatred.
But nowhere could she find the thing she sought. Her hatred had for
foundation a material too impalpable to be fashioned into words.
Tressan's voice aroused her from her thoughts.

"Have you laid no plans, madame?" he asked her. "It were surely a
madness now to attempt to withstand the Marquis."

"The Marquis? Ah yes--Florimond." She sat forward out of the shadows in
which her great chair enveloped her, and let candle and firelight play
about the matchless beauty of her perfect face. There was a flush upon
it, the flush of battle; and she was about to tell the Seneschal that
not while one stone of Condillac should stand upon another, not while a
gasp of breath remained in her frail body, would she surrender. But
she checked her rashness. Well might it be that in the end she should
abandon such a purpose. Tressan was ugly as a toad, the most absurd,
ridiculous bridegroom that ever led woman to the altar. Yet rumour
ran that he was rich, and as a last resource, for the sake of his
possessions she might bring herself to endure his signal shortcomings.

"I have taken no resolve as yet," said she, in a wistful voice. "I
founded hopes upon Marius which Marius threatens to frustrate. I think I
had best resign myself to the poverty of my Touraine home."

And then the Seneschal realized that the time was now. The opportunity
he might have sought in vain was almost thrust upon him. In the spirit
he blessed Florimond for returning so opportunely; in the flesh he rose
from the chair and, without more ado, he cast himself upon his knees
before the Dowager. He cast himself d