go through my period of ah--probation
without murmuring. Say that you, will marry me in six months' time--at
Easter, say."

She saw that an answer she must give, and so she gave him the answer
that he craved. And he--poor fool!--never caught the ring of her voice,
as false as the ring of a base coin; never guessed that in promising she
told herself it would be safe to break that promise six months hence,
when the need of him and his loyalty would be passed.

A man approached them briskly from the chateau. He brought news that a
numerous company of monks was descending the valley of the Isere towards
Condillac. A faint excitement stirred her, and accompanied by Tressan
she retraced her steps and made for the battlements, whence she might
overlook their arrival.

As they went Tressan asked for an explanation of this cortege, and she
answered him with Fortunio's story of how things had sped yesterday at
La Rochette.

Up the steps leading to the battlements she went ahead of him, with
a youthful, eager haste that took no thought for the corpulence and
short-windedness of the following Seneschal. From the heights she looked
eastwards, shading her eyes from the light of the morning sun, and
surveyed the procession which with slow dignity paced down the valley
towards Condillac.

At its head walked the tall, lean figure of the Abbot of Saint Francis
of Cheylas, bearing on high a silvered crucifix that flashed and
scintillated in the sunlight. His cowl was thrown back, revealing his
pale, ascetic countenance and shaven head. Behind him came a coffin
covered by a black pall, and borne on the shoulders of six black-robed,
black cowled monks, and behind these again walked, two by two, some
fourteen cowled brothers of the order of Saint Francis, their heads
bowed, their arms folded, and their hands tucked away in their capacious
sleeves.

It was a numerous cortege, and as she watched its approach the Marquise
was moved to wonder by what arguments had the proud Abbot been induced
to do so much honour to a dead Condillac and bear his body home to this
excommunicated roof.

Behind the monks a closed carriage lumbered down the uneven mountain
way, and behind this rode four mounted grooms in the livery of
Condillac. Of Marius she saw nowhere any sign, and she inferred him to
be travelling in that vehicle, the attendant servants being those of the
dead Marquis.

In silence, with the Seneschal at her elbow, she watched the pro