e a leech come hither to do a little work of
purification."

Her eyes, now kindling again as she recovered from her recent fears,
sought Fortunio's shifty glance. Garnache followed it and read what was
in her mind.

"What Fortunio has done," said he, "he has done by your son's authority
and sanction."

"Marius?" she inquired, and she was almost fearful lest she should hear
that by her son he meant her stepson, and that Marius was dead.

"Yes, Marius," he answered her. "I bent him to my will. I threatened him
that he and this fellow of his, this comrade in arms so worthy of his
master, should be broken on the wheel together unless I were implicitly
obeyed. If they would save their lives, this was their chance. They were
wise, and they took it, and thus afforded me the means of penetrating
into Condillac and rescuing Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye."

"Then Marius--?" She left her question unfinished, her hand clutching
nervously at the bosom of her gown.

"Is sound and well, as Fortunio truthfully will have told you. But he is
not yet out of my grasp, nor will be until the affairs of Condillac are
settled. For if I meet with further opposition here, broken on the wheel
he shall be yet, I promise you."

Still she made a last attempt at hectoring it. The long habit of
mastership dies hard. She threw back her head; her courage revived now
that she knew Marius to be alive and sound.

"Fine words," she sneered. "But who are you that you can threaten so and
promise so?"

"I am the Queen-Regent's humble mouthpiece, madame. What I threaten, I
threaten in her name. Ruffle it no longer, I beseech you. It will prove
little worth your while. You are deposed, madame, and you had best take
your deposition with dignity and calm--in all friendliness do I advise
it."

"I am not yet come so low that I need your advice," she answered sourly.

"You may before the sun sets," he answered, with his quiet smile. "The
Marquis de Condillac and his wife are still at La Rochette, waiting
until my business here is done that they may come home."

"His wife?" she cried.

"His wife, madame. He has brought home a wife from Italy."

"Then--then--Marius?" She said no more than that. Maybe she had no
intention of muttering even so much of her thoughts aloud. But Garnache
caught the trend of her mind, and he marvelled to see how strong a habit
of thought can be. At once upon hearing of the Marquis's marriage her
mind had flown back to its wont