cession
advance until it was at the foot of the drawbridge. Then, while the
solemn rhythm of their feet sounded across the planks that spanned the
moat, she turned, and, signing to the Seneschal to follow her, she went
below to meet them. But when she reached the courtyard she was surprised
to find they had not paused, as surely would have been seemly. Unbidden,
the Abbot had gone forward through the great doorway and down the
gallery that led to the hall of Condillac. Already, when she arrived
below, the coffin and its bearers had disappeared, and the last of the
monks was passing from sight in its wake. Leaning against the doorway
through which they were vanishing stood Fortunio, idly watching that
procession and thoughtfully stroking his mustachios. About the yard
lounged a dozen or so men-at-arms, practically all the garrison that was
left them since the fight with Garnache two nights ago.

After the last monk had disappeared, she still remained there,
expectantly; and when she saw that neither the carriage nor the grooms
made their appearance, she stepped up to Fortunio to inquire into the
reason of it.

"Surely Monsieur de Condillac rides in that coach," said she.

"Surely," Fortunio answered, himself looking puzzled. "I will go seek
the reason, madame. Meanwhile will you receive the Abbot? The monks will
have deposited their burden."

She composed her features into a fitting solemnity, and passed briskly
through to the hall, Tressan ever at her heels. Here she found
the coffin deposited on the table, its great black pall of velvet,
silver-edged, sweeping down to the floor. No fire had been lighted that
morning nor had the sun yet reached the windows, so that the place wore
a chill and gloomy air that was perhaps well attuned to the purpose that
it was being made to serve.

With a rare dignity, her head held high, she swept down the length of
that noble chamber towards the Abbot, who stood erect as a pikestaff: at
the tablehead, awaiting her. And well was it for him that he was a man
of austere habit of mind, else might her majestic, incomparable beauty
have softened his heart and melted the harshness of his purpose.

He raised his hand when she was within a sword's length of him, and
with startling words, delivered in ringing tones, he broke the ponderous
silence.

"Wretched woman," he denounced her, "your sins have found you out.
Justice is to be done, and your neck shall be bent despite your stubborn
p