death. You can hardly look for generosity at his hands now, and so
you will be all but homeless, unless--" He paused, and his eyes strayed
to Tressan and were laden with a sardonic look.

"You take a very daring tone with me," she told him. "You speak to me as
no man has ever dared to speak."

"When the power was yours, madame, you dealt with me as none has ever
dared to deal. The advantage now is mine. Behold how I use it in your
own interests; observe how generously I shall deal with you who deal in
murder. Monsieur de Tressan," he called briskly. The Seneschal started
forward as if some one had prodded him suddenly.

"Mu--monsieur?" said he.

"With you, too, will I return good for evil. Come hither."

The Seneschal approached, wondering what was about to take place. The
Marquise watched his coming, a cold glitter in her eye, for--keener of
mental vision than Tressan--she already knew the hideous purpose that
was in Garnache's mind.

The soldiers grinned; the Abbot looked on with an impassive face.

"The Marquise de Condillac is likely to be homeless henceforth," said
the Parisian, addressing the Seneschal. "Will you not be gallant enough
to offer her a home, Monsieur de Tressan?"

"Will I?" gasped Tressan, scarce daring to believe his own ears, his
eyes staring with a look that was almost one of vacancy. "Madame well
knows how readily."

"Oho?" crowed Garnache, who had been observing madame's face. "She
knows? Then do so, monsieur; and on that condition I will forget your
indiscretions here. I pledge you my word that you shall not be called to
further account for the lives that have been lost through your treachery
and want of loyalty, provided that of your own free will you lay down
your Seneschalship of Dauphiny an office which I cannot consent to see
you filling hereafter."

Tressan stared from the Dowager to Garnache and back to the Dowager. She
stood there as if Garnache's words had turned her into marble, bereft of
speech through very rage. And then the door opened, and Mademoiselle de
La Vauvraye entered, followed closely by Fortunio.

At sight of Garnache she stood still, set her hand on her heart, and
uttered a low cry. Was it indeed Garnache she saw--Garnache, her brave
knight-errant? He looked no longer as he had looked during those days
when he had been her gaoler; but he looked as she liked to think of him
since she had accounted him dead. He advanced to meet her, a smile in
his eyes that h