He had no means to
know that at that very hour Valerie was on her knees by her little white
bed, in the Northern Tower of Condillac, praying for the repose of the
soul of Monsieur de Garnache--the bravest gentleman, the noblest friend
she had ever known. For she accounted him dead, and she thought with
horror of his body lying in the slime under the cold waters of the moat
beneath the window of her antechamber. A change seemed to have come upon
her. Her soul was numb, her courage seemed dead, and little care had she
in that hour of what might betide her now.

Florimond was coming, she remembered: coming to wed her. Ah, well! It
mattered little, since Monsieur de Garnache was dead--as though it could
have mattered had he been living!

Three hours of his long striding brought Garnache at last to Voiron, and
the echo of his footsteps rang through the silent streets and scared a
stray cat or two that were preying out of doors. There was no watch
in the little township and no lights, but by the moon's faint glimmer
Garnache sought the inn of the Beau Paon, and found it at the end of a
little wandering. A gaudy peacock, with tail spread wide, was the sign
above the door on which he thumped and kicked as if he would have beaten
it down.

It opened after some delay, and a man, half clad, candle in hand, a
night-cap on his hoary locks, showed an angry face at the opening.

At sight of the gaunt, bedraggled figure that craved admittance, the
landlord would have shut the door again, fearing that he had to do with
some wild bandit from the hills. But Garnache thrust his foot in the
way.

"There is a man named Rabecque, from Paris, lodging here. I must have
instant speech with him," said he; and his words, together with the
crisp, commanding tones in which they were uttered, had their effect
upon the host.

Rabecque had been playing the great lord during the week he had spent
at Voiron, and had known how to command a certain deference and regard.
That this tatterdemalion, with the haughty voice, should demand to see
him at that hour of the night, with such scant unconcern of how far
he might incommode the great Monsieur Rabecque, earned for him too a
certain measure of regard, though still alloyed with some suspicion.

The landlord bade him enter. He did not know whether Monsieur Rabecque
would forgive him for being disturbed; he could not say whether Monsieur
Rabecque would consent to see this visitor at such an hour; very